My Italian bulldozer

Alexander McCall Smith, 1948-

Book - 2017

"From one of our most beloved and best-selling authors: a hilarious new stand-alone novel about one man's misadventures in travel and romance in the Italian countryside. When writer Paul Stewart heads to the idyllic Italian town of Montalcino to finish his already overdue cookbook, he expects it to be the perfect escape from stressful city life. But when he arrives, things quickly take a turn for the worse. His hired car is nowhere to be found, and with no record of a reservation at the car-rental counter and no other cars are available, it appears that Paul will be stuck at the airport--that is, until an enterprising stranger offers him an unexpected alternative: a bulldozer. With little choice in the matter, Paul accepts, and s...o begins a series of laugh-out-loud adventures as he trundles through the Tuscan countryside. A story of unexpected circumstances and making the best of what you have,My Italian Bulldozeris a warm and witty read guaranteed to put a smile on your face"--

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Subjects
Published
New York : Pantheon Books [2017]
Language
English
Main Author
Alexander McCall Smith, 1948- (author)
Edition
First United States edition
Physical Description
232 pages ; 23 cm
ISBN
9781101871393
Contents unavailable.
Review by New York Times Review

ACCORDING TO Alexander McCall Smith's website, he has four books coming out in 2017, plus paperbacks from last year's hardcover publications. His first book was published in 1980. How many have followed? Even he must lose count. One of this year's releases is the paperback edition of "Precious and Grace," Volume 17 in the much-adored No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, which propelled McCall Smith into dazzling worldwide popularity. Though this can't be true, he seems to write a book as easily as I bake a cake. I have liked his Isabel Dalhousie series as much as the Ladies' Detective Agency books. In addition to relishing the gentle sleuthing and subtle plots, I have become friends with his "traditionally built" detective Precious Ramotswe in Botswana and his philosopher detective Isabel Dalhousie in Scotland. Who wouldn't like to have tea with either of these clever women? I recently read one of McCall Smith's standalone novels, "Trains and Lovers," in which four strangers share their private stories while their train car hurtles toward London. As a chance encounter turns intimate, we become aware how the stories we tell ourselves take form in the telling. This is McCall Smith's genius - he makes you love the people in his books. In crass times like these, the deep civility that powers his voice is a balm. That and he makes you laugh, and how many can claim that? The main character in McCall Smith's new book, "My Italian Bulldozer," is a Scottish food writer, Paul Stuart, who goes to Tuscany, as many have, "in pursuit of a period of freedom." He plans to finish his latest work, "Paul Stuart's Tuscan Table" - and escape the detritus of a broken fouryear relationship with his live-in lover, Becky, who has run offwith a fitness instructor, "the tattooed mesomorph." His taken-for-granted editor, Gloria, arranges the details of his escape. On landing in Pisa, Paul encounters car rental complications that result in a few hours in a jail cell shared with a scary criminal comically named Occhidilupo. Released from the mix-up, and with no cars available on a holiday weekend, Paul must rely on a bulldozer for his drive to Montalcino. And so we're offon a bumpy Tuscan idyll. In the beautiful hill town, Paul succumbs to Brunello, savory mushrooms and wild boar with fennel. He's determined to let "the beauty of the Tuscan countryside work its magic" on his ponderous manuscript. He begins to make friends around the piazza. Over coffee, he reads in the schoolmaster's newspaper that the odious Occhidilupo has escaped and is believed to be hiding not far away. This part of the book is slowly paced, but when Paul, still in his bulldozer, rescues an attractive American art historian named Anna, who has run her car into a ditch, the velocity picks up, then zooms forward. Suddenly, the errant Becky reappears. Then, right on her heels, Paul's editor arrives. And Gloria seems to have more than well-edited books on her mind. The bulldozer has starring moments. It's briefly stolen. Then no one knows how a hated wall suddenly fell in the night, restoring the view for those across the way. Lending a hand to a winemaker, Paul uses his bulldozer to move a hillock, only to discover that he's shifted a boundary line. His friend's vineyard of Rosso di Montalcino now qualifies for the upgraded, highly coveted Brunello status. The countryside does work its magic. Paul transfers to his manuscript "the quiet satisfaction of life on the land, the rhythms, the sense of history - of things having been for centuries the way they were now." His love life, in the end, comes clear. He's smitten with Italy and thinking of a book on Venetian seafood. Smart boy. The Tuscan countryside works its magic on a Scottish food writer in flight from a broken romance. FRANCES MAYES is the author of "Under the Tuscan Sun." Her most recent book is "Under Magnolia: A Southern Memoir," and her novel "Women in Sunlight" will be published next year.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [June 11, 2017]
Review by Booklist Review

McCall Smith, the hugely popular author of The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency novels, has written a rom-com stand-alone novel that puts the machine back in deus ex machina. The novel's hero, Paul Stewart, is a young, good-looking, best-selling cookbook writer, based in Edinburgh, whose girlfriend has ditched him for her personal trainer. Paul is feeling stuck; his editor believes that any step in any direction will lead Paul out of his depressive bog. This translates into a trip to Italy to research a book on Tuscan cooking and then into a series of comic mishaps that end up with Paul having to make do with the only vehicle available, a gigantic bulldozer. Amusing as Paul's plight is, and as entrancing as the Tuscan hills and the tiny town of Montalcino are, the plot itself is predictable (and as slow to accelerate as the bulldozer): Can a young, handsome, wealthy man who loves to cook find love again? Well, yes, he can. In McCall Smith's hands, even this flawed premise is transformed into an entertaining novel, but it's not up to the author's usual level.--Fletcher, Connie Copyright 2017 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

McCall Smith (Chance Developments, 2016, etc.) adds to the overworked subgenre of Tuscan travel romance with this pallid story about a Scottish cookery writer recovering from his broken heart in Italy.Paul has published nine wildly successful books about food and wine under the tutelage of his "freelance editor" Gloria, who may harbor but doesn't quite express deeper than professional feelings for him. This is a contemporary novel, and Paul, whose decency and sensitivity McCall Smith frequently touts, is only supposed to be 36, but his reticence, especially concerning sex, and the mildly witty, buttoned-down dialogue make both character and time frame seem much olderthink 1930s Fred Astaire sidekick. After Paul's girlfriend, Becky, dumps him for her personal trainer (the first of many oh please! moments in a novel rife with clichs) and Paul falls apart, Gloria suggests he take a trip to Tuscany to finish up his book on the Tuscan lifestyle. Arriving in Pisa, he faces a series of unfortunate events one would think an experienced travel writer would manage more handily. Victimized by stereotypically hot-tempered, conceited, and larcenous Italians, he's left without transportation to his destination, the small village of Montalcino, and even lands briefly in jail until the equally stereotypical, charming Italian "cavaliere" whom Paul met on the flight over bails him out and finds a vehicle for him to drive: a bulldozer. That bulldozer also more or less drives the plot, allowing Paul to meet charming American art historian Anna when he pulls her car out of a ditch and involving him, however unknowingly, in several escapades involving Montalcino villagers. Soon romantic complications set in: Paul thinks he's in love with Anna but she has a male friend coming to visit; Becky shows up to apologize, followed for reasons that remain vague by Gloria. Montalcino, of course, is full of natural beauty, ruined buildings, salt-of-the-earth if charming connivers, and underappreciated wine. McCall Smith knows how to concoct delightful fictions, but this one is undercooked. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

2   THERE IS NO CAR   Scotland fell away beneath him, a stretch of green pasture, of hills, of swirling mist. Suddenly they were bathed in sunlight; fields of cloud, topped with crenellations of white, now lay beneath them as their plane pointed south. In his window seat he closed his eyes against the glare, imagining for a few moments their destination, as much an idea, a feeling, as a place. He saw a small tower that he had never seen before, a tower of warm red brick with a pattern of holes for doves. Down below, a man was pulling at a bell rope; as the bell rang, the doves launched themselves from their holes in the brick and fluttered skywards.   He opened his eyes and noticed that the passenger in the seat beside him, a man in perhaps his early fifties, dressed in a lightweight linen suit, was looking at him. The man smiled at him, and he returned the smile.   "What takes you to Pisa?" the man asked. His accent revealed him as Italian.   Paul hesitated, unsure as to whether he wanted to strike up a conversation that went beyond the niceties. He had brought with him a book that was just beginning to engage him, and he was looking forward to getting back to it. But the man smiled at him again, and his natural politeness decided the matter.    "So parlare Italiano," he began. "Sono . . ."   The man did not allow him to finish. "Ah!" he said, and then, continuing in Italian, "What a pleasure it is for us Italians to discover somebody who speaks our language."   "I'm sure there are many. Such a beautiful language . . ."   "Yes, but what use is a beautiful language spoken just by oneself? It's all very well for the Spaniards, because there are so many Spanish speakers--all over the world. Even Portuguese has Brazil, but we have just us--just Italy--and after a while we get fed up with speaking only to ourselves. We have heard everything there is to say in Italian."   "Surely not . . ."   "I am not entirely serious. A bit serious, perhaps, but not entirely." Turning in his seat, he extended a hand towards Paul. "But I must introduce myself. I am Rossi--Silvio Rossi."    "I'm Paul Stuart."   Silvio loosened his tie. "Stuart is the name of Scottish kings, is it not? Mary Stuart . . ." He made a chopping gesture across his throat. "She was most unfortunate. Queens cannot choose their neighbours, and if they find they have one who has an axe, then it is most regrettable." He sighed, as if the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, had been a recent outrage.   "It was a long time ago," Paul said.    Silvio raised an eyebrow. "But I am an historian," he said. "What happened in the past remains rather vivid for me and . . ." He paused, and now removed the tie altogether. "That's better. Yes I find that the past has a much bigger shadow than people believe. It's still with us in so many ways. At our side all the time, whispering into our ear."   "Warning us not to repeat our mistakes?"   Silvio smiled. "We repeat some. Others we're sensible enough to avoid making more than once. But that's not what I was thinking about. What I was thinking about was the way in which the past determines our character, not just as individuals, but as nations. A child who is treated badly grows up damaged. A people who are subjected to bad treatment will bear resentments, will be suspicious. They will be bad allies."   Paul, who had been holding his book, slipped it into the seat pocket in front of him. He had endured worse conversations on flights, including an attempt at religious conversion, a confession of adultery, and detailed advice on the attractions of Panama as a tax shelter. "You're thinking of?"   Silvio waved a hand airily. "Oh, there are many examples. Russia, for one. Russia is a peasant country. It has a past of serfdom that ended only in the nineteenth century. That made for a vast, stubborn, ignorant population--one that was also very resentful. And they are resentful today--particularly of the West."   "I see."   "They view the West in the same light as they viewed their feudal masters. Authority." He paused. "So western politicians who lecture Russians about human rights or their tendency to invade their neighbours will never change them. Not one bit. You're dealing with a particular sort of bear, you see. One with a history. An abused bear with a short temper."   Paul savoured the metaphor. He was right. "And Italy?"   "Well, that's an interesting case. With us, the important thing to remember is that we are very young. We have lots of history, of course, but Italy itself is a teenager. The Risorgimento was really just yesterday, you'll know. It ended in 1871. That's yesterday. And that means that, as a state, we are still very far from maturity. That's why half the population doesn't really believe that the Italian state exists--or, if it does, they feel that they owe it nothing. We're very disloyal to Rome, you know. We look after ourselves--our family, our city--and we don't like paying taxes to Rome."   "Nobody likes taxes."   "Some like them less than others. Take the Greeks. They have a particular aversion to taxes, and this is because they haven't forgotten that they were once part of the Ottoman Empire and they saw no reason to pay taxes to the Ottomans."   "So you're saying that people don't change?"   Silvio sighed. "They don't. Or if they do, it takes a long time. A very long time."   The plane gave a slight jolt as it encountered a pocket of turbulent air. Paul glanced out of the window, and then returned to the conversation. "May I ask you something?" he said. "Is this what you actually do?"   Silvio shook his head. "I'm an economic historian," he replied. "That's something quite different, but it doesn't stop me having views on these more general matters."   "Economic history," muttered Paul.   "A sobering science. That's why I've been in Scotland. I've been at a conference." He paused. "You didn't tell me why you're going to Pisa."   "To taste food and wine," said Paul.   Silvio looked surprised. "So that's what you do?"   "Yes. I write about it."   "There is a great deal to be said about Italian food."   "Yes, I'm discovering that."   Paul reached for his book.   "I mustn't keep you from your reading."   Paul had not intended to be rude. "Forgive me. I was enjoying our conversation."   "But you must read your book, and I have some papers to attend to." Silvio reached into his pocket. "Let me give you my card. I'm at the University of Pisa. It has all the details there. If you need help while you're in Italy, please get in touch with me. My door is always open."   Paul thanked him and took the card. Professor Silvio Rossi, it appeared, was not only Professor of Economic History at the University of Pisa, but a member of the Italian Academy of Economic Science and a cavaliere of the Republic. He slipped the card into the pocket of his jacket and opened his book. ###                 Excerpted from My Italian Bulldozer by Alexander McCall Smith All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.