As much as I love sinking into Mayes’ descriptions of exqusite food and wine throughout bella Italia, I had trouble following her style of narration.  Mayes writes this book almost entirely in present tense.  Her verbs suggest that everything she enjoyed in Bramasole or the surrounding area is happening right now.  Perhaps since I know I’m reading this book years after its original publication date, even after the buzz of the movie has faded, I became slightly annoyed by small comments like “the house is clean” (25).  If I flew over to Tuscany right now, would I really find a house that is tidy?  Since things from the present become the past so instantaneously, I wondered why this description gets to be so privileged as to exist without a backwards glance.  Throughout the novel, we get to experience all the adventures with the author moment by moment:

But with only twenty days here every minute counts.  We force ourselves to go into town to stock up on food…. We’re planning several major feasts.  We drive in just as the stores are reopening after siesta.  Strange- it’s already dark as the town comes back to life.  (202)

Reading through the book, I feel this same sense of urgency.  I want to devour as much as I can just through the descriptions of bruschetta or basil.  But, as I do so, I also wonder why I’m so drawn to the act of reflection.  Why does it seem like an affront that one author lives in each moment so much that she’s invited the reader to join her?  While reading, I keep anticipating a time when Mayes might stop, look back, and share the insight she’s learned about herself through travels.  Obviously, she has gone through that process, but just writes as if it’s still ongoing.  Perhaps the point is that this doesn’t stop— her journey continues.