Not appreciating the cold spring rains in Tuscany, for instance, the lucky pair decides, on a whim, to fly to balmy Palermo on arriving in a hotel room without a view of that city’s justly famous palm trees, gli Americani just march down to the lobby and demand one. For the author does occasionally come off (along with her husband) as cantankerous or supremely unself-conscious. This sequel to Mayes’s bestselling Under the Tuscan Sun, about her second home and life reborn in Tuscany, doesn-t preserve Fellini’s spirit, either-though her account is inevitably charming. In the nearly 40 years since Fellini’s film first ushered the expression into our lexicon, said vita has been drained of all its original sardonic content, its biting irony, and its social criticism.
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