The Greek For Love: A Memoir Of Sorrow And Joy
by James Chatto /
2006 / English / EPUB
1.9 MB Download
“Sometimes on nights like these, when I’ve been working late and
the house is quiet, my mind skims away through the years to the
time when we lived on Corfu. Our time there floats in the darkness
of the past like a tiny island of green and yellow light. .
.”
“Sometimes on nights like these, when I’ve been working late and
the house is quiet, my mind skims away through the years to the
time when we lived on Corfu. Our time there floats in the darkness
of the past like a tiny island of green and yellow light. .
.”
They arrived as tourists, Wendy from Canada and James from England,
young, new to each other and probably even more in love than they
realized. The two-line ad in the
They arrived as tourists, Wendy from Canada and James from England,
young, new to each other and probably even more in love than they
realized. The two-line ad in theSunday Times
Sunday Times, advertising
“Villa Parginos, Loutses, Corfu,” conjured an image of long
afternoons drinking wine on a marble patio shaded by a grape
arbour, looking out over an impossible Greek blue sea. Instead they
got a little pink bungalow with linoleum, a buzzing fluorescent
light and a patio separated from the village’s main street by a
wire fence.
, advertising
“Villa Parginos, Loutses, Corfu,” conjured an image of long
afternoons drinking wine on a marble patio shaded by a grape
arbour, looking out over an impossible Greek blue sea. Instead they
got a little pink bungalow with linoleum, a buzzing fluorescent
light and a patio separated from the village’s main street by a
wire fence.
And yet Corfu delivered so much more than their wildest fantasy had
suggested. Yes, there was the warmth of the sun, intoxicating to
frozen northerners, and languid walks along sage- and oregano-
bordered byways, and swimming naked off an idyllic beach. Olive
trees dropped their fruit into nets, and there were fresh apricots,
grilled sardines, marinated lamb and long evenings of storytelling
at the local taverna — life, reduced to the sensual quotidian. But
what captivated James Chatto and Wendy Martin (who soon became his
wife) was the way the islanders embraced them, once they bought and
renovated a house of their own. The baptism of their firstborn son
was the demarcation line; after that they were locals, not
tourists. And, as Chatto’s eloquent memoir so touchingly reveals,
their deep connection to Corfu and its people sustained them
through tragedy just as it had carried them into love.
And yet Corfu delivered so much more than their wildest fantasy had
suggested. Yes, there was the warmth of the sun, intoxicating to
frozen northerners, and languid walks along sage- and oregano-
bordered byways, and swimming naked off an idyllic beach. Olive
trees dropped their fruit into nets, and there were fresh apricots,
grilled sardines, marinated lamb and long evenings of storytelling
at the local taverna — life, reduced to the sensual quotidian. But
what captivated James Chatto and Wendy Martin (who soon became his
wife) was the way the islanders embraced them, once they bought and
renovated a house of their own. The baptism of their firstborn son
was the demarcation line; after that they were locals, not
tourists. And, as Chatto’s eloquent memoir so touchingly reveals,
their deep connection to Corfu and its people sustained them
through tragedy just as it had carried them into love.From the Hardcover edition.
From the Hardcover edition.