The Missing Half by Cinzia Zuccarini
The
Missing Half (La Meta D’un Soldo)
By Cinzia
Zuccarini
SUMMARY
When an
archaeological dig uncovers the remains of a young girl, the fragments of her
short life are pieced together to reveal a rich and evocative picture of
eighteenth-century Venice. Abandoned at birth, with only one half of a broken
coin to identify her, the young Prudenza is raised in the Conservatorio della
Pietà, the famed Venetian orphanage and music school. Her virtuosity as a
violinist earns her a place in the household of the Palazzo Grimani, where her
story unfolds through the pages of her poignant diaries. We hear first-hand her
intimate accounts of life in one of Venice’s most powerful families – the
intrigues, loves and scandals – as well as the artistic and social frustrations
suffered by women of the time. Blessed only with musical accomplishment in a
society where family status and connections are all, Prudenza must find her own
identity in an alienating world.
Winner of
the “Lorenzo Da Ponte” prize for literature, "The Missing Half" sets
a fictional personal story within a historically accurate depiction of Venice
in 1770, at the height of its artistic and musical splendour. (Roisin
Robothan-Jones)
MY REVIEW:
I was honoured to attend a book signing event and
music recital hosted by the author at a local agriturismo a few months ago
I loved the cover – an image of the canals of
Venice, a violin and a diary only covers half the page. What a masterstroke!
The story starts in the present day with a startling
narrative. It is the middle of the night and there is an intruder in the archaeologist’s
house. We learn of his fear, his vulnerability and extreme anxiety.
‘Someone was rifling through his trouser pockets.
The light of the moon meant he could clearly see the back of a large dark
figure. He had to remain motionless, hoping the burglar would grab what he
wanted – his watch on the bedside table, the computer on his desk – and then
finally leave. He wanted to live.’
In this first chapter we learn much about the
archaeologist. His immediate worry is that that the intruder might take his
computer, which holds important work files. He thinks about his ex-girlfriend,
Daniela and that in some fortunate way, it was lucky she was not there with
him. How could he have defended her? She was tired of him and had met someone
else ‘who made her feel alive, made her laugh and feel like a woman again.’ Her
assault on him and his job is so brutal it leaves him with intense emotional
pain which is like ‘a diluted poison for which there was no antidote.’
She derides him and taunts him, telling him that he
is ‘a prisoner of the past, sinking into his excavations without noticing the
real world’ His sense of loss is so great and so painful that he drowns his memories
of her, yet now and then they surface.
‘Her delicate earlobe, the copper bracelet on her
wrist, the nipple of her left breast.’
The metaphors, the language and the adjectives
brilliantly illustrate the utter rejection he feels. Her injurious words are incredibly
unkind, and her parting shot to him is, ‘thankfully we don’t have children.’
His thoughts shift back to the work files on his PC,
and this is where we learn about his current project, an excavation near Venice
looking for medieval Lombard tombs. He and his colleagues had found no tombs,
but instead, unearthed the bones of a healthy young girl on the side of a road
between Venice and Padua. However, there is a surprising discovery. She has a
shoulder deformity, which could have been caused by playing an instrument. There
were a few items buried with the body, a mother-of-pearl hairclip, an almost
illegible diary and a bag from the Ospedale della Pieta (Hospital of Mercy Convent
founded in the fourteenth century) containing half a token. Who was this young
musician? How had she died and why was there no gravestone?
This is where the book changes direction. The
reader is transported to Venice, 1770 and we are now reading the personal diary
or journal of Prudenza. The language changes, the narration changes to the
first person or ‘I’ which allows the reader to experience the events and
emotions of the story through the narrator's eyes and thoughts, and the
text is now in italics.
A young Prudenza is forced to leave the ‘Pieta’
(orphanage) and given a position in a Venetian palazzo as a music teacher to the
two young daughters of the household, Anna Lucia and Luigia.
On the day she leaves, she is given a tiny bundle,
a bag containing half a broken coin. This had been left for her as a baby in a
cradle. It was a coin by which her mother would recognise her, one day.
The Grimani Palace and the noble Venetian family
who live there, the Lord and Lady of the Serenissima are a world away from the
orphanage.
‘I miss my life. It was the only one I knew before
my service to this wealthy and important family that idolises music so much,
they cultivate it with delight each day. I am the daughter’s music teacher but
also a seamstress, lady in waiting and servant depending on the Signore’s needs,
which I must obey.’
She must adapt and find her own identity in a new
world of etiquette, culture, high society and opulence. In addition to
illustrating the well-known aspects of the musical fervour of
eighteenth-century Venice, it also aims to highlight the challenging role of
women in the artistic, interpersonal, and social dynamics of the time. She
faces many challenges trying to navigate the social and psychological
differences that arise from the stark contrast in her background and
circumstances.
Firstly, Signor Grimani is so taken with Prudenza’s
musical skill, he elevates her role and asks her to play her violin at a
concert where the Doge’s son will be in attendance. Not unsurprisingly, this
results in jealousy from the other servants who feel that Prudenza has been
given unjust and undeserved privileges.
‘Lady Grimaldi gave me a mother-of-pearl hair clip
as a gift. I was then sprinkled with face powder. Giuditta, the governess,
looked at me with scorn. The dress, the wig, the concert.’
Secondly, her relationship with one of the
daughters breaks down with devastating effect.
‘Luigia hurled a barrage of insults at me. I was so
stunned that I could not utter a word. I wanted to throw myself at her feet,
but I did not move a finger. She got up, walked towards me and said in a cold
voice: “Our lessons are finished now. I do not want to see you nor hear your
foolish and useless music anymore.” I was mortified.
Finally, there are occurrences of spiteful
behaviour towards her, but she does not know who is when she enters a room. A
fly put in her broth, a dirty glass, her music is either taken or stained and
once there was a dead mouse in front of her door. She is now in fear of what
may happen next but believes this is a punishment from God when she prayed that
her mother would come and take her back.
It’s difficult to label this book into a particular
genre. Historical fiction with a mystery? So perhaps we can call it a
historical mystery. Who was the mother of Prudenza and why was she abandoned at
the orphanage? The novel begins and ends with an external narration, but then
unfolds through the pages of the diary, narrated in the first person, exploring
the great unresolved themes of motherhood, belonging, and the origin and
destiny of each of us.
Why I recommend this book
I read the English version, but it is also
available in Italian - La metà d'un soldo. (Half a
Coin)
It's quite a beautiful story. It is entirely
fictional but weaves a personal story set amid the captivating splendour of Venice
and is an accurate depiction of a time when art and music flourished in an
unparalleled celebration of creativity and beauty. It is rather a haunting
story and has several parallels with Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. Jane was on
a quest for home and belonging. Prudenza is also on a quest for identity and
self-discovery. Jane’s orphaned status rendered her dependent on those with
more power, regardless of whether they allowed her love or dignity. Prudenza is
in the same situation.
A first-person narration is frequently used in
novels, where the main character often serves as the narrator. This
perspective creates a sense of intimacy between the reader and the narrator, as
the reader is privy to the narrator's thoughts, feelings, and
observations.
‘I will have to get used to the solitude of my
room. They have given me a small bare chamber, with a wardrobe, a bed, a desk
and a nightstand. On the chair, I have placed my violin. All I can hear now is
the lapping of the canal and the cooing of pigeons. I pretend they are my
friends, I bid them good day. I study their arrogant warbling. They are much
like opera singers.’
This is a small book, only 112 pages, yet it has a
powerful and emotional impact on the reader. It’s enjoyable, memorable, and
thought-provoking.
The accuracy of the historical research is
exceptional, and the link to music never very far away. The Ospedale della
Pietà existed and was a convent, orphanage, and music school
in Venice. Like other Venetian ospedali, the Pietà was first
established as a hospice for the needy. A group of Venetian nuns, called the
Consorelle di Santa Maria dell’Umiltà, established this charitable institution
for orphans and abandoned girls in the fourteenth century. Its fame is largely
connected to its resident composer and violin teacher, Antonio Vivaldi.
While reading the book, I was in mind of another
story with a character similar to Lady Grimani. Anyone familiar with Dickens and Bleak House -
It tells the story of the icily beautiful Lady Dedlock, who nurses a dark secret
in her past.
‘Lady Grimani sits before us in front of the great
window every day when we are playing. She pretends to read a book, so she does
not feel bored during the long days of her pregnancy. But actually, she is observing
us in silence. Sometimes her gaze is like a beam of light, on other occasions
her look is indecipherable, as if she were scrutinising me. The Lady fears me.
But why?’
When there are two stories within a book, one of
them can have a happy ending. I will leave that thought with you.
“Maybe it's not about the happy ending. Maybe it's
about the story!” Albert Camus
AUTHOR
BIO:
Born in
1971, Cinzia Zuccarini has devoted her studies to XVIII century music and
literature. After pursuing her career as a violinist, performing in many
important orchestras in Italy and abroad, she is focusing on the analysis of
the deep connection between arts, music and literature in the glorious years of
the Venetian Republic. Her graduation thesis on Charles Burney’s musical
journey through France and Italy led to the publication of essays and articles
in many specialised magazines.
The
missing half, winner
of the first prize at the Lorenzo Da Ponte literary award, is her first novel.
It was followed by Tutti i nomi dell’anima (Diastema 2023), which continues in the quest for the forgotten women of the past, revealing
their untold contribution to music writing and violin making.
BOOK BLURB:
Published by Diastema (Feb 2024)
Translated by James Cetrullo
OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR:
Tutti i nomi dell'anima
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