If We Still Lived Where I was Born by Maria Giura -- BOOK BEGINNINGS

BOOK BEGINNINGS ON FRIDAYS

If We Still Lived Where I was Born by Maria Giura

Thank you for joining me for Book Beginnings on Fridays. Please share the opening sentence (or so) of the book you are reading this week. You can also share from a book that caught your fancy, even if you are not reading it right now.

MY BOOK BEGINNING

we'd be in the apartment above the pastry shoppe
where downstairs my father made cannoli and eclairs and rum baba

and my mother made trays of butter cookies and rang up customers
and balanced the books.

-- from the first, title poem in If We Still Lived Where I was Born by Maria Giura.

Maria Giura's new book of poetry, If We Still Lived Where I was Born, launches on November 4. Maria was kind enough to send me a review copy and I am greatly enjoying these engaging poems. 

I first "met" Maria in 2019 when she published Celibate, a memoir about falling in love with a Catholic priest. Read my review of Celibate here and my 2019 interview with Maria here. 

YOUR BOOK BEGINNINGS

Please add the link to your Book Beginnings post in the box below. If you share on social media, please use the #bookbeginnings hashtag.

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THE FRIDAY 56

The Friday 56 is a natural tie-in with Book Beginnings. The idea is to share a two-sentence teaser from page 56 of your featured book. If you are reading an ebook or audiobook, find your teaser from the 56% mark.

Freda at Freda's Voice started and hosted The Friday 56 for a long, long time. She is taking a break and Anne at My Head is Full of Books has taken on hosting duties in her absence. Please visit Anne's blog and link to your Friday 56 post.

MY FRIDAY 56

-- from "In Praise of Silence" in If We Still Lived Where I was Born:

It used to terrify me
especially on three-day weekends.
Afraid God would speak,
that I would hear,
I'd drown Him out with plans, activity,
motion.

FROM THE PUBLISHER'S DESCRIPTION

In Maria Giura's If We Still Lived Where I was Born, the narrator unlocks the meaning she's made of her childhood and heritage, spirituality and lost loves and draws the reader in to retrieve their own. The collection begins in the apartment above her parents' Brooklyn pastry shoppe where she imagines them still fighting, still making us, still together, then shifts to adulthood where she learns to stay still long enough to listen for the story, and then returns to childhood where her mother and aunts teach their kids to spread out their blankets and live. Moving between New York and Italy, between family and "stranger," these poems show longing and vulnerability, but also the thrill of being young and part of something larger than oneself, of making peace, and pursuing the path you were meant to. They brim with the people and places that have taught her the most and ring with pathos and celebration, from her immigrant father waiting for her on the corner . . . bread in his hand to the sister who pulled the music out of her, helped her make her own song. Beginning with a journey to a literal birth place and extending outward to many figurative places of self-discovery, this collection explores what lasts when all else passes away.