Past Midnight: John Berendt on the Mysteries of Venice
Just as John Berendt's first book, Midnight in the Garden of
Good and Evil, was settling into its remarkable four-year run on
The New York Times bestseller list, he discovered a new city
whose local mysteries and traditions were more than a match for
Savannah, whose hothouse eccentricities he had celebrated in the
first book. The new city was Venice, and he spent much of the
last decade wandering through its canals and palazzos, seeking to
understand a place that any native will tell you is easy to visit
but hard to know. For travelers to Venice, whether by armchair or
vaporetto, he has selected his 10 (actually 11) Books to Read on
Venice. And he took the time to answer a few of our questions
about his charming new book, The City of Falling Angels:
Amazon.com: The lush, cloistered southern city of Savannah was
the locale of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Venice,
the setting for The City of Falling Angels, is vastly different.
Was it the difference itself that drew you to Venice?
John Berendt: Savannah and Venice actually have quite a lot in
common. Both are uniquely beautiful. Both are isolated
geographically, culturally, and emotionally from the world
outside. Venice sits in the middle of a lagoon; Savannah is
surrounded by marshes, piney woods, and the ocean. Venetians
think of themselves as Venetian first, Italian second;
Savannahians rarely even venture forth as far as Atlanta or
Charleston. So both cities offer a writer a rich context in which
to set a story, and the stories provide readers a means of escape
from their own environment into another world.
Amazon.com: I enjoyed your rather declarative author's note: that
this is a work of nonfiction, and that you used everyone's real
names. In your previous book you did use pseudonyms for some
characters and you explained that you took a few small liberties
in the service of the larger truth of the story. Why the change
this time?
Berendt: When I wrote Midnight I thought I would do a few people
the favor of changing their names for the sake of privacy. But
when the book came out, several of the pseudonymous characters
told me they wished I'd used their real names instead. So this
time, no pseudonyms. As for the storytelling liberties I took in
writing Midnight, they were minor and did not change the story,
but my mention of it in the author's note caused some confusion,
with the result that Midnight is sometimes referred to now as a
novel, which it most certainly is not. Neither is The City of
Falling Angels. In fact, I dispensed with the liberties this time
and made it as close to the truth as I could get it.
Amazon.com: In The City of Falling Angels, a number of
fascinating people serve as guides to the city, each with a
different idea of the true nature of Venice. Who was your
favorite?
Berendt: I don't have a favorite, but Count Girolamo Marcello is
certainly a memorable, highly quotable commentator. "Everyone in
Venice is acting," he told me. "Everyone plays a role, and the
role changes. The key to understanding Venetians is rhythm, the
rhythm of the lagoon, the water, the tides, the waves. It's like
breathing. High water, high pressure: tense. Low water, low
pressure: relaxed. The tide changes every six hours."
I nodded that I understood.
"How do you see a bridge?" he went on.
"Pardon me?" I asked, "A bridge?"
"Do you see a bridge as an obstacle--as just another set of steps
to climb to get from one side of a canal to the other? We
Venetians do not see bridges as obstacles. To us, bridges are
transitions. We go over them very slowly. They are part of the
rhythm. They are the links between two parts of a theater, like
changes in scenery. Our role changes as we go over bridges. We
cross from one reality ... to another reality. From one street
... to another street. From one setting ... to another setting."
Once I had absorbed that notion, Count Marcello continued:
"Sunlight on a canal is reflected up through a window onto the
ceiling, then from the ceiling onto a vase, and from the vase
onto a glass. Which is the real sunlight? Which is the real
reflection? What is true? What is not true? The answer is not so
simple, because the truth can change. I can change. You can
change. That is the Venice effect."
I was not terribly surprised when he later told me, "Venetians
never tell the truth. We mean precisely the site of what we
say."
Amazon.com: Now that you know Venice well enough to be a guide
yourself, what would you say to a visitor looking for in
into the character of the city?
Berendt: Tourists generally shuffle along, on narrow streets so
crowded as to be nearly impassable, between the major s of
St. Mark's Square, the Rialto Bridge, and the Accademia Museum.
All you have to do is to step off these heavily traveled
alleyways, and in a few moments you will find yourself in quiet,
much emptier surroundings. This is more like the real Venice.
Another thing to do is to go into the wine bars where Venetians
stand around drinking and talking. They will very likely be
speaking the Venetian dialect, so you won't be able to understand
them, but you will get a sampling of the true Venetian ambiance
enlivened by the pronounced sing-song rhythm of the language. I'd
also suggest stopping someone in the street and asking for
directions. Almost invariably, you will be rewarded with a genial
smile and the instructions, Sempre diritto, meaning "Straight
ahead." This will only leave you more confused, because when you
attempt to follow a straight line, you will be confronted by more
twists and turns and forks in the road than you thought possible,
given the instructions. This is part of what Count Marcello
described as "the Venice effect."
- THE CITY OF FALLING ANGELS.
- JOHN BERENDT.
- #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER.
- 2006 EDITION.