I’m excited to announce the 2020 reissue of Across the Table, a novel that has been out of print for several years. I hope you’ll enjoy this family saga of
three generations of Italian-American women.
ACROSS THE TABLE
When Navy Seabee Al Dante returns to Boston in 1945 after serving in World War II, his homecoming is not what he nor his wife imagined.
Although he survived the bombing of his destroyer in the South Pacific, his injuries left him with shattered bones, a withered arm and a crushed spirit. The two-and-a half-year-old son he has never seen runs away from him in fear. His wife, only a girl when he left, has borne and nurtured their child and made her way in the world. After three years of keeping to themselves the fear and loneliness and longing they had faced alone, they no longer know each other.
But a “For Sale” sign in the window of a restaurant in their Italian neighborhood of the North End convinces Rose that if she and Al are to have any hope of overcoming their challenges, she is the one who needs to put their dreams in motion.
“I believe in us—that we have a future together. Look, we’re luckier than most. I know you look at yourself and don’t see that yet. But you will. Believe in us, Al.”
Can a restaurant called “Paradiso,” the evocative power of food lovingly prepared, and the resilience of a passionate, street-smart Italian girl rekindle a love challenged by separation, infidelity and loss? Will it sustain and nourish her family as it lives through the upheaval of the last half of America’s twentieth century?
An unforgettable story of family and forgiveness, loyalty and love.
“With its realistically complex characters, persuasive plot anchored around life’s joys and sorrows, and abundance of lusciously described food, Across the Table is a splendidly nourishing tale.” – John Charles, The Chicago Tribune
“I seem to be on a binge reading treat of your books. As for many of your readers, many of your characters’ experiences have touched deep and sometimes sensitive patches of my journey. Your insight whether through your deep dive into research or your own heart is riveting at times.” – Reader Comment
The food and the wine were as abundant as they always were at our place. You wouldn’t have known we were at war. Looking around the table, we still had everyone there. My parents and Al’s, in their places of honor, their bodies shrunken and wrinkled but their minds and their tongues still sharp. My sister-in-law Cookie balancing her youngest grandchild on her lap while she ate.
“I don’t want to let her go,” she protested when her son Vincent offered to hold the baby so she could eat her soup.
My son Mike, a senior in high school, freshly showered after his football game, basking in the aftermath of a victory he had secured with his field goal kick and devouring every course—piling his plate high with manicotti after the antipasto and escarole soup, then taking two servings of the turkey and sweet potatoes. Al, his face flushed from the morning in the kitchen and then two hours on the football field, but his back straight and his eyes clear as he took in the scene. Even Toni, taking tiny bites because her braces hurt—how stupid of the orthodontist to put them in right before Thanksgiving—even she was making an effort to enjoy the meal and the family.
I describe them all now because it’s important to me to remember that meal and that moment when we were all together and didn’t know yet what was ahead for our family, for our country. Because by the next Thanksgiving, two places would be empty at the table.
The inspiration for Across the Table came from many sources: my long-ago dream of one day opening a restaurant, my experience of living in the urban “village” of the Boston’s North End, and my childhood surrounded by the women of my Italian-American extended family. Here are a few of the images that helped to shape my creation of the Dante family, its neighborhood and its history.
My aunt Kay, wearing her embroidered kimono on the island of Trinidad
My mother on her wedding day, leaving home with her parents and her maid of honor, my aunt Lydia
The building in Boston’s North End where I lived above a restaurant operated by my landlord’s family
My aunt Cathy in deep conversation at the table with her family over coffee, cake
and cigarettes
My mother and her sisters bidding farewell to my aunt Beulah (in the middle) as she embarks
on her honeymoon
My mother’s family gathering for a reunion picnic