Category: Excerpt

When I was contacted recently by J. R. Rogers about reading and reviewing his historical fiction novel, The Italian Couple, I was immediately attracted by the unusual setting – Eritrea – and the period in which the book is set – just before the beginning of the Second World War.

Unfortunately, given the size of my author review pile, it’s going to be several months (let’s be honest, possibly quite a lot longer than that) before I can read it.  In the meantime, I’m delighted to bring you an extract from the book.

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About the Book

Colonel Francesco Ferrazza, a disciplined and inflexible Royal Italian Army officer with Italy’s Fascist Military Information Service, and his attractive British wife, Emilia, are posted to Asmara affectionately referred to as ‘Little Rome’ by Mussolini.

He is astonished when, in 1938, he is ordered by his Rome superior to set in motion an unusual but clandestine sabotage operation of the engineering marvel that is the Asmara-Massawa cableway that links Italian Eritrea to the sea.  Built by the Italians it is the longest aerial line of its kind in the world but it is of such strategic importance the army comes to realize they may have made a mistake in constructing it. They fear it could fall into the hands of neighbouring Ethiopia whom they defeated in a colonial war just two years ago.

Ferrazza sets out to find someone to carry out Operation Red Lion and meets Mario Caparrotti, an amateur race car driver and cableway mechanic who has unfettered access to the engine room. The colonel entices him with his wife and the reluctant Emilia unhappily plays her part by becoming Caparrotti’s lover.

Unexpectedly, Gyles Aiscroft, a Rome-based British freelance foreign correspondent, and an old family friend of Emilia’s parents arrives in Asmara.  Emilia finds herself drawn to him and confides her plight to him.

As the clock counts down the final hours, the colonel belatedly begins to grasp that in ‘Little Rome’ nothing is what it seems, no one can be trusted and, when serving Mussolini, failure will never be condoned.

Format: ebook (434 pp.)                    Publisher: n/a
Published: 11^th April 2018                 Genre: Historical Fiction

Purchase Links*
Amazon.co.uk  ǀ  Amazon.com
*links provided for convenience, not as part of any affiliate programme

Find The Italian Couple on Goodreads

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Extract: The Italian Couple by J. R. Rogers

(Gyles Aiscroft arrives in Asmara – first impressions)

“Now, tell me,” he said waving at the window. “We’re almost there. What do you think? Is it to your liking? Have a look. Go on. Tell me.”

They had arrived in town and the driver of the Fiat bus – its engine wheezing and the gears crashing – was beginning a wide slow turn onto the Viale Roma. The name of the street was on a metal nameplate affixed to the wall of a building on the corner. Viale Roma was an important street with dusty palms spaced at even intervals aligned on either side. They drove up one short block after another, the bus plodding through the congestion of anxious automobiles, the shouting drivers honking their horns. Facing either side of the street was a run of low, whitewashed ochre-colored buildings with common walls and walking past was a mélange of unhurried Italians wearing Western clothes and sunglasses crowding the sidewalks. The native people, who looked out of place, wore long, drab-looking ankle length attires while the women wrapped their heads and shoulders in shawls. Aiscroft noticed at one point how, as they drove past a prominent three-story building, the sidewalk was cast in shadows and how the pedestrians passing into the gloom reappeared shortly blinking into the bright African sun.

Many of the establishments – their Italian names painted in bright contrasting colors over the entrances – fronted outdoor cafes where patrons sat contentedly beneath tan umbrellas at little round tables sipping coffee from small white cups. Aiscroft decided it looked as if it all had been transplanted from somewhere in southern Italy. It seemed to him, in the orderly way in which it was all laid out, that it was some planner’s vision of how a small and proper Italian town should look. And the reminiscent architecture and mixture of European and indigenous peoples mingling in the street brought to mind Benghazi and Tripoli where a similar Italian presence had transformed those places as well.

A moment later the driver pulled to the curb. They had arrived at the airline’s ticket office. He looked over his shoulder. “Biglietteria,” – ticket office, he called out turning off the noisy engine and as the bus shuddered to a silence everyone got to their feet, and formed a single impatient line between the rows of narrow bench seats.

Paola, Chef Modici’s short, attractive, and much younger wife, was animated at his return, and rushed to her husband as he stepped down from the bus. With a wide brim white hat, long thick dark hair splayed across her shoulders, and her face carefully made up, she wore a fetching black and white sleeveless dress and held her sunglasses down at her side. The chef kissed her hurriedly and unemotionally on the cheek, and gave her a quick embrace before pulling away.

In a throaty sensual voice that surprised Aiscroft, she asked. “How was your trip, darling? Were you unhappy without me?” Uncertain, she smiled. “I missed you.”

He laughed at her. “Of course I was unhappy,” he chortled – “miserable, in fact.”

“And Emilio? How’s he? You two got along? No arguments this time?”

“No but Emilio never changes. Still it’s good to see him, if only twice a year.”

“He’s your brother, you should.”

“Sometimes I wonder. I was thinking on the plane coming home. He can’t be bothered to visit us in Asmara,” he said in a huff. “So it’s me that has to take the time and spend the money and go up there and stay at that damn hotel if I want to see him. I can’t even stay with him because his wife’s always sick.”

“It was your decision, Gino. Don’t go again, if you don’t want to. Maybe he’ll come here next time.”

“I’ll wait forever,” he grumbled.

“He’ll always be your brother, darling,” she said reaching to stroke his arm. “No matter where he lives. Maybe next time call him instead of flying all that way.” She dropped her arm and turned to look unabashedly at Aiscroft. “Gino?” she asked. “Who is this gentleman with you?” She smiled at Aiscroft and gave him a look that was equal parts sympathy and interest. “He’s been standing there so patiently waiting for…”

“Ah, yes,” he said jerking around to Aiscroft. “My apologies.”

“Quite all right.”

“Paola,” he said to her, as if about to read a proclamation, “this is Mister Aiscroft, a reporter from Rome. He’s an Englishman. This is my wife, Paola,” he told Aiscroft nodding at her.

Paola slid her sunglasses on, bathed him in a wider smile, and limply extended her hand. “Welcome, Mister Aiscroft, so nice to meet you. I was wondering when Gino might tell me who you were.”

The sidewalk was becoming congested with luggage and passengers ready to board the bus to the airport, so they crossed the street. The avenue was clouded with exhaust, as they dodged the two lines of traffic and steered clear of the ever-present boys leading strings of indifferent camels and donkeys. Modici headed unerringly toward his gleaming maroon Lancia Augusta Berlina parked at the curb while mentioning to Paola they would be giving their guest a ride to his hotel.

“Where are you staying, Mister Aiscroft?” she asked looking at him closely as they stood alongside the car while Modici scrutinized the sheet metal for any signs of damage his wife might have caused in his absence.

“The Colonia,” called out Modici overhearing her question. Satisfied with his inspection he pulled open the passenger door for Paola. “Get in,” he said impatiently. “I have to go to the restaurant.”

“Lovely hotel,” Paola told Aiscroft before ducking into the car. “The best in Asmara. Did Gino tell you about it? You should be comfortable there,” she said.

“Yes, Paola, I told him. He’s already booked there,” said Modici slamming her door shut. “Now, my friend,” he said frowning at Aiscroft behind his sunglasses. “We should go. I have a busy day ahead of me.”

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About the Author

J.R.ROGERS writes historical thrillers. He is the author of seven books and also a collection of short stories. His stories have appeared in Steam Ticket, TrainWrite, The Legendary, TRC, The Copperfield Review, Outside In Literary and Travel Magazine, River & South Review and Driftwood Press.  His latest novel is The Italian Couple.

Besides writing his interests include art, culture, indie film, LGBTQIA, photography and world travel. He lives in southern California.

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