The Seamstress of Sardinia
In early 20th century Sardinia, a quiet seamstress becomes implicated in the dramatic lives of her clients and finds her own life changed.
After losing their family to a cholera epidemic, the little seamstress or sartina (never named) grows up in the town of L— learning the trade from her grandmother, who goes into the homes of the middle class to sew their clothes and linens. At first the sartina is merely a spectator, observing the love affair of Ester, la marchesina, the independent ways of La Miss, the American reporter, and the secret hidden by the proud wife and daughters of the lawyer Provera. She gains a sewing machine; she takes a vacation to the coast with the daughter of a family friend. Each chapter seems a saga of its own until the episodes turn out to be deeply interwoven, creating a pattern in which symmetry, beauty, and bitterness reveal themselves turn by turn.
While the sense of place isn’t strong, the cultural setting is fully imagined, from details of homes and fabrics to the rigid class system; lower classes live in bassi, the basements of buildings, and our sartina can only afford opera seats “in the gods” (i.e., the nosebleed section). When patrons gift her clothes, she’s careful to remove trim and decorations, knowing a sartina can’t dress like a signorina. The class differences are precisely why the sartina is alarmed by the attentions of Guido, a genial student whose birth turns out to be far higher than she supposed, and whose pursuit first unnerves, then enchants her.
The story flows sleekly but stirs unquiet depths, and Brigid Maher’s beautiful translation captures the musical cadence of the Italian, the prose clear, tranquil, and seamless. This is a truly immersive read to be savored from beginning to end.
