Luigi Alfieri was the handsomest of the lot, hands down. But the others were not half bad! I mean think of Marina Santi, Maurizio Vecchi, Gordon Gray, Andrea Wayne, Chris Olsen, Sonia de Gaudenz, Anna West, Alberto di Stefano, Bruno Minniti, Ombretta Piccioli, Ornella, Susie Sudlow, Dan Green, Richard Dennis…
It occurs to me as either unobservant or ignorant (I can only hope it was not bigoted of me, fingers crossed!) but I had once blindly assumed they were American. I don’t know how that happened because come on, read the names! Blatantly Italian, most of them! And their faces and features were deliciously Italian as well. Not to mention that the English was crap and cringe. Although I suppose I didn’t much give importance to the actual literature because at the time, I was reading a lot of graphic novels and comics and most of these are more concerned with colloquialism than grammar, more focused on vernacular and dialogue than in deliverance of great prose.
Plus, with Photoromance, it was mostly about how good they looked, no? On that score, they did deliver.
I still love big hairs on women mostly because of them. I mean come on, think Ornella! Or curls – think Anna West. Or sheer black stockings and slim cut jeans – think Ombretta Piccioli. Or well-placed jewelry – think Marina Santi. Or huge thick jackets with woolen collars on men – a lot of the men wore those. Maybe Italy is cold.
The language though, oh dear lord the language. So cringe as to actually make you squirm, but I plowed through them all. And today, it is a source of ready laughter to be found in memories for me and my sisters. Islands in the Sea of Love, Angel Without Wings, My Mirror is a Lonely Place – oh feck, those were bad. And the taglines – “A Haunted Love: his love saved her mind… and her life”, “Love Under Blue Skies: he couldn’t love her – but she could – and did – and how she did – love him”… I mean, that last one is a mouthful and a half!
It mattered not. Because they were beautiful people. Drop dead gorgeous, most of them. I first read them from my cousin-in-law U TPi’s collection in Kulikawn. After school was over in Mary Mount but St.Paul’s had not yet let their students out so we had to wait for my sister. That or wait anyway for my younger sister who often got detention.
I enjoyed them. And today, the stories and pictures remain gently buried in memories to be dug out at choice moments. While my no-longer-re-read private copies rest in a cubicle in my bookshelf in my little Bookarium, only a few steps away from my bed.
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