Publisher's Synopsis
Gran Bazar Universale: this is the title I wanted to give to my first book. The memories of a lifetime are enclosed in these pages. Day after day I was put through a hard test of personal honesty that was conducted with dignity hoping for justice. A memoir of events pursued with my heart and helped by those capable people that proudly stood up. While holding Nonna's hand, I walked among a path of trees and fragrances of freedom. As her soft voice taught me, that same path would not always be in bloom and often the sky could become a forceful storm. Those words conveyed to me at that young age already taught me the sense of reality. Formia's Hospital, night of November 2, 2003 The indescribable pain, stabbing at the back of my head and the other wounds make it impossible for me to rest comfortably. Today is November 2; I am here, still alive, I could have been forever imprisoned in a sealed coffin. "Assunta Parrella, the late Assunta Parrella." If Vittorio's Sardinian blade had reached its target, my carotid artery would have been slashed, as if I were a sheep. Today, I would have flowers and candles on my grave and he would have achieved his goal to exploit the dream of three generations. What to some may seem to be just a large family store is a symbol of our roots. Instead, I am here in the hospital stunned not only by the medication, but also by the psychological trauma caused by that unimaginable criminal event. Not only had he tried to murder me, he had also put those that tried to help me in grave danger. The newspaper headlines gave more than ample space to what might have appeared to be a simple dispute between landlord and tenant reaching desperation. I know that is not so. I know that my aggressor wanted to keep for himself something that was not his and not only for financial gain but also as a springboard for social promotion. My stitches are throbbing and painful, but this does not prevent me from dedicating my thoughts to the entire episode that did not begin with Vittorio's bullying. This was another outrage to me and my family's history; adding to the many other episodes of intimidation. I want to explain why those "four walls" represent the blood, sweat and tears from the women of the house called to defend themselves against lives full of disappointments and mourning. No ladies and gentlemen, they are not just "four walls," they are not just bricks, cement and glass. In each corner are linked memories, secrets and our desperate hope. Images of my mother Maria and my grandmother Assunta were the thoughts that made me challenge anyone who wanted to take control of this family bond. The tranquilizer given to me by the nurse an hour ago was ineffective; in fact, it made me alert enough to begin a voyage into the past, from memories of my mother and grandmother and their lives that were filled with more tears than smiles. Only by taking the journey beginning one hundred years ago can one understand why I had to dare Vittorio in his quest to possess the symbolic ties to a family history presented in the "Gran Bazar Universale."
