The Lovers: A Novel

By Paolo Cognetti

"A short novel of affecting elegance" –Vogue

"Cognetti... delivers a beautiful meditation on nature, love, and renewal." –Publishers Weekly

“A masterclass in high-altitude atmosphere, a sharp portrait of a community and a touching romance, all condensed into 200 pages.” –Financial Times

As a romance blooms in an isolated Italian Alpine town fate and free will shape the lives of many in this gorgeously written novel from the internationally bestselling author of The Eight Mountains, basis for the 2022 Cannes Jury Prize winning film

Fausto moves to Fontana Fredda—Cold Fountain—a small, remote village high in the mountains, having left Milan and an old love behind. Out of the way and off the beaten path, Fontana Fredda is a town that operates by its own rules, sense of time, and movement of seasons. Its citizens lead quiet but complex lives—and Fausto is attracted to that contrast. There’s Santorso, the former forest ranger who prefers the company of wolves to humans. Babette, the elegant ex-urbanite who, after a brief fling with a mountain man, opened a permanent fixture in the village: the little restaurant where Fausto works as a line cook, catering to visiting skiers. And it is there where he meets Silvia, the new waitress. Young, cheerful, with the air of a world traveler, the two quickly become friends, and so much more. 

When winter ends, Fausto and Silvia part ways, and return to their old lives to tie up loose ends. Fausto eventually goes back to Fontana Fredda to find Silvia, only to learn that she has found a summer job in a nearby glacier. There, among Italy’s peaceful and picturesque nature,  Silvia meets a Nepalese mountain guide who introduces her to the enigmatic teachings of the Buddha. Meanwhile, Fausto finds work cooking for a crew of lumberjacks, and makes regular visits up by Silvia. 

With the turn of seasons, Fausto and Silvia’s relationship is profoundly changed by the winds of time.Life, as they discover, contains endless possibilities. 

Structured in short, distilled chapters, Paolo Cognetti’s luminous, atmospheric novel offers an elegant portrait of a budding romance between two kindred, but different spirits united by their attraction to an isolated landscape. Empathetic, achingly evocative, and buoyed by an affection for the natural world, it is a beautiful meditation on our infinite search to understand our place in the universe. 

Translated from the Italian by Stash Luczkiw

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: Jun 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9780063115422

Paolo Cognetti

Paolo Cognetti is an Italian writer, novelist, and editor from Milan. He divides his time between the city and his cabin in the Italian Alps. He is the author of Without Ever Reaching the Top and The Eight Mountains, which was an international sensation and won Italy's Strega Prize and the French Prix Médicis étranger. 

Book preview

1

A Little Restaurant

Fausto was forty years old when he took refuge in Fontana Fredda, looking for a place to start over. He had known those mountains since he was a boy, and his unhappiness when he was away from them was among the causes, or perhaps the cause, of the problems with the woman who almost became his wife. After the separation he rented a place up there and spent a September, an October, and a November walking the trails, gathering wood in the forest, and having dinner in front of the woodstove, savoring the salt of freedom and chewing the bitterness of solitude. He also wrote, or at least tried. In the autumn he saw the herds leave the mountain pastures, the larch needles turn yellow and fall, until the first snows, when despite having reduced his needs to the bone, the money he had put aside ran out. Winter presented him with the bill of a difficult year. There was someone he could ask for a job in Milan, but it would mean going down there, picking up the phone, settling the unfinished business with his ex. Then one evening, just before resigning himself to doing just that, he happened to open up before a glass of wine, in Fontana Fredda’s only meeting place.

From behind her counter Babette understood perfectly. She had also come from the city, and she still had the accent as well as a certain elegance, though who knows when and how she got there. At some point she had taken over a restaurant in a place that offered no clientele between seasons apart from construction workers and cowherds, and she had christened it Babette’s Feast. From then on everyone called her that, no one remembered her name from before. Fausto made friends with her because he had read Karen Blixen and picked up on the reference: the Babette of the story was a revolutionary who, after the Paris Commune had failed, wound up working as a cook in a Norwegian village full of bumpkins. This other Babette may not have served turtle soups, but she tended to take in strays and seek practical solutions to existential problems. After listening to him she asked: Do you know how to cook?

So at Christmas he was still there, wielding pots and pans amid the kitchen’s smoke. There was also a ski slope in Fontana Fredda; every summer there was talk of closing it and every winter it somehow reopened. With a sign down at the crossroads and a little artificial snow blown across the pastures, it attracted families of skiers, and for three months a year transformed the mountain men into chairlift operators, snowmakers, snowcat drivers, and rescuers in a collective masquerade that he now took part in, too. The other cook was a veteran. In a few days she taught him how to degrease kilos of sausage, stop the pasta from overcooking with cold water, stretch the oil in the deep fryer, and how stirring the polenta for hours was a waste of effort, you just let it simmer there on a low flame and it would cook by itself.

Fausto liked being in the kitchen, but something else began to attract his attention. He had a small window through which he would pass the plates into the dining room and watch Silvia, the new waitress, take orders and serve the tables. Who knows where Babette had found her. She was not the kind of girl you would expect to find among the mountain men: young, cheerful, with the air of a world traveler. The sight of her carrying polenta and sausages seemed a sign of the times, like the flowers blossoming out of season, or the wolves that were said to have returned to the woods. Between Christmas and Epiphany they worked tirelessly, twelve hours a day, seven days a week, and they courted each other with her hanging orders for him on the corkboard, and him ringing the bell when the dishes were ready. They kidded each other: two plain pastas, the chef’s special. Plain pasta is off the menu, he said. The dishes and skiers came and went with such speed that Fausto was there scouring the pots when he realized it was dark outside. Then he stopped for a moment, the mountains came back to his mind: he wondered if the wind had been blowing or if it had snowed up above and what the light had been like up there on the wide sun-drenched plateaus above the tree line, and if the lakes now looked like slabs of ice or soft, snowy basins. At eighteen hundred meters it was a strange beginning to the winter, with rain and snow, and in the morning, rain melting the overnight sleet.

Then one evening, after the holidays, with the floors damp and the dishes dried and stacked, he undid his cook’s apron and came out for a drink. The bar at that hour slipped into a mode in which it quietly ran itself. Babette put on some music, left a bottle of grappa on the counter, and the snowcat operators came in to look for company between one pass over the slopes and the next, leveling the holes and bumps made by the skiers, hauling the pushed-down snow back up, and milling it where it was frozen to make it granular, up and down on their treads for long, dark hours. Silvia had a small room above the kitchen. Around eleven o’clock, from the bar, Fausto saw her come down with a towel around her head and drag a chair up to the woodstove to read a big book in the warmth. He was struck by the thought that she had just gotten out of the shower.

In the meantime he listened to the chatter of this snowcat driver they called Santorso, like the patron Saint Ursus of Aosta and the grappa distillery. Santorso was talking to him about grouse hunting and the snow. About how the snow was late that year, the snow so precious for protecting the burrows from frost, and about the problems a winter without snow gave to partridge and black grouse, and Fausto liked learning so many things he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t even think of losing sight of his waitress. At one point Silvia took the towel off her head and started combing her hair with her fingers, bringing it closer to the stove. Her hair was long, black, and straight, and there was a lot of intimacy in the way she combed it. Until she felt she was being watched. She looked up from her book and smiled at him with her fingers in her hair. The grappa burned Fausto’s throat like a boy’s first drink. Shortly after, the snowcats returned to work and Babette said good night to those two, reminded one or the other to put the croissants in the oven early in the morning, took the garbage bags away, and went home. She was happy to leave the keys, liquor, and music there, so her restaurant could encourage friendships even when she was gone, a little Paris Commune amid the Norwegian ice.

2

The Lovers

That evening she was the one who took him upstairs. If it were up to him they would have first had to wait for the thaw. The only heat in Silvia’s room was what came from the kitchen, so the ritual of undressing was a bit rushed, but for Fausto, slipping into bed nude, next to an equally nude and trembling girl, had something moving and marvelous about it. He had been with the same woman for ten years, and for six months with his own insipid company. Exploring that body was like finally having a guest: he discovered that it was a strong, solid body below, sturdy thighs, skin smooth and taut; above, it was spiky with bones, little breasts, full of ribs, clavicles, elbows, and then cheekbones and teeth that would collide with him when Silvia got a bit rough. He no longer remembered the patience it took to understand another person’s tastes and make them understand his. But it was offset by his hands full of burns, cuts, detergent abrasions, and scars from the damn slicer, and in the end he found a certain correspondence in caressing her with them.

What a nice smell you have, he said. Like wood smoke.

You smell like grappa.

Does it bother you?

No, I like it. Grappa and resin. What is it?

It’s the pine cones we put in the grappa.

You put pine cones in grappa?

Yeah, stone pine. We gather them in July.

Then you smell like July.

Fausto liked that idea, it was his favorite month. The thick and shady woods, the smell of hay in the fields, the gurgling streams, and the last snow up above, beyond the screes. He gave her a July kiss on that beautifully protruding clavicle.

I like your bones.

I’m glad. I’ve been carrying them around with me for twenty-seven years.

Twenty-seven? They’ve got a lot of mileage.

Yeah, we’ve been around the block.

So tell me. Let’s hear where your bones were, say, at nineteen.

At nineteen I was in Bologna, studying art.

You’re an artist?

No. At least that’s what I figured out. That I’m not an artist, I mean. I was better at partying.

In Bologna, I can believe it. You hungry?

A bit.

Should I go get something?

Yeah, but only if it’s quick, I’m cold already.

Back in a flash.

Fausto went down to the kitchen, looked through the refrigerators, passed the small window at the back, and saw the snow cannons firing along the slope. Each cannon had a beacon illuminating it, so the slope above Fontana Fredda was dotted with these fireworks, jets of water spray that froze upon contact with the air. He thought of Santorso leveling piles of artificial snow in the dark of night. He went back to the room with bread, cheese, and olive pâté, slipped under the covers, and Silvia pulled him to her immediately. Her feet were cold.

He said: Let’s try again. Silvia at twenty-two.

At twenty-two I worked in a bookstore.

In Bologna?

No, in Trento. I have a friend from there, Lilli. After Bologna she went back home to open her own place. I’ve always liked books and by then I was done with college. When she asked me to come up I didn’t give it a second thought.

So you worked as a bookseller.

Yeah, while it lasted. But it was a good time, you know? It was in Trento that I discovered the mountains. The Brenta Dolomites.

Fausto cut a slice of bread, spread the olive pâté on it, and added a piece of toma cheese. He wondered what it must have been like to discover the mountains. He brought the morsel toward her lips but stopped in midair.

So tell me, what are you doing under Monte Rosa?

I’m looking for a refuge.

You, too?

I’d like to work in a refuge on the glacier. For the summer, I mean. You know any?

Yeah, a few.

Can I have some of that cheese?

Reviews for The Lovers

[oldblack-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An unusual story. And I have an idea that could be said about all her novels. I read this book after hearing her interviewed about another of her books and I found her interesting. Likewise this book is interesting but perhaps a little too much a 'head level' book rather than the 'heart level' that I prefer. That said, however, it's a story that can be read and understood at a surface level so although I'm sure there is a lot of subtle intellectual content I didn't get at all, I still found the story engaging enough. What I liked most was the way Vida presents her main character's thoughts and feelings as well as telling us the story of what she does. I'm interested in Turkey, as well, and that undoubtedly helped me engage with the story. It gave insights into what Turkish people might be like, in a way that sounded true, anyway. I notice my local library has another of Vida's books (The Diver's Clothes Lie Empty - the book about which I heard her interviewed) so I think I'll read that next before I decide whether to keep Ms Vida on my TBR list

[eoin-311239 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Got me. I have been waiting for VV to pull it all together, thought this won't quite make it, was blind-sided. This is her best, most complete yet. Worth it for the integration of time.

[nbmars · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

In The Lovers, Yvonne, 53, travels from her home in Burlington, Vermont to the Turkish town of Datça where she spent her honeymoon with her husband Peter, killed two years earlier in a hit-and-run accident. She was hoping to come to terms with the truth of her marriage - especially to remember again the happiness that characterized it at the beginning, and to emerge from the catatonic state in which she has been since Peter’s death:"…she had come to Datça to strip herself of these lies, to shed this grief. The grief and the lies were the same - one begot the other.”She finds that the small town of Datça had deteriorated, analogous to the way her marriage had. Much of the conflict between Yvonne and Peter was over their twins, Matthew and Aurelia. Matthew was “perfect” and the one on whom Peter bestowed his favor. Aurelia was damaged, subject to alcohol and drug addiction, and Peter seemed to blame Yvonne. Even when the children grew up and left the house, “they had grown so accustomed to resenting each other that they didn’t know how to stop.”In Turkey Yvonne encounters some rather eccentric people, such as the estranged wife Özlem of her proprietor; a local boy Ahmet who sells seashells to her; Ahmet’s sister; and another vacationing American couple. All of them serve to give insights about herself to Yvonne.Eventually, Yvonne gets some answers about her life, but they weren’t answers to the questions she came with; she had been blinded all along by the wrong questions.Discussion: This is a short novel, with spare but well-crafted writing. The primary theme seems to be the way in which we define ourselves through our relationships, and how these ideas of who we are and who the others are in our lives may get embedded in old patterns - almost like those paperweights of insects stuck in amber, that then go on to hold down our growth in the same fixed and stuck way. In addition, these definitions affect the evaluations of us by others; how does one escape such enmeshment? In the biggest metaphor of the book, an owl, bereft of its mate (owls are monogamous), becomes trapped in the house which Yvonne is renting. The owl eventually gets loose; whether Yvonne does too remains to be seen.Evaluation: This is a thought-provoking meditation on sense of self and the importance of relationships to one’s identity. The characters struck me as rather odd though; I didn't really warm up to them. Moreover, some of the plot developments are sort of enigmatic and/or get dropped. In addition, I found the ending to be a bit improbable. Nevertheless, I would recommend it for a book club, because it would definitely generate discussion.

[brangwinn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Yvonne, a widow, returns to the small Turkish village where she and her husband spent their honeymoon. Her daughter is an alcoholic; her son has just been proposed to by a wealthy woman. Yvonne is determined to find her way alone. But what happens in this village connects her to Turkey in ways she didn’t expect, including her conviction that she is responsible for a boy’s death. It is worth reading if only to question your own ability to be as independent and determined as Yvonne

[olevia-1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Setting interesting. Main character not. End of story. Next!

[mumineurope · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Yvonne in Turkey. Still waiting for something exciting to happen

[ccayne_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Beautifully written quiet book. I enjoyed this - it's an introspective book from the point of view of a middle-aged, recently widowed woman who rents a house in Turkey where she and her husband honeymooned. It is her encounters with random people she meets, some by choice and some not, which shape the story. This book rang true for me and made me think.

[nivramkoorb · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is my first read of a Vendala Vida book. I am from the bay area and have read a couple of books by her husband, Dave Eggers. I liked this book. It got quickly into her feelings and I identified with how she viewed the world. As one who is very connected to his wife, it is always hard for me to read about someone losing a spouse so suddenly. As someone who travels a lot(currently I am living in Buenos Aires for 3 months), I had trouble with the number of Turks that spoke English. It was also hard to buy off on how quickly she got into and people got into each other's lives. But her feelings were real and her insights made me think a lot and after that is what fiction is about.

[gcplreader · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

really enjoyed this novel-- finale, especially, has a wonderful cinematic feel

[sruszala · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Sort of aimless...I kept waiting for the book to start, and as another review stated, I just didn't get it. I wouldn't recommend this book.

[bibanon1-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received an advance copy of this book from the publisher.In the aftermath of her husband's death, grieving widow Yvonne travels to Turkey where she and her husband had honeymooned 28 years before. Her plan is to spend some time alone reflecting on her marriage and the loss of her husband and then meeting up with her adult twins for a cruise. Her plans become complicated when she quickly becomes entangled in the lives of several people. She uncovers secrets about the man she is renting a house from. She becomes friends with the man's wife and forms an unlikely bond with her. She befriends an elderly woman who runs a yacht service with her husband. And, most poignantly, she befriends a young boy named Ahmet who sells shells at the local beach. Through these interactions, Yvonne gains new insight into herself and the lives of her children until a tragic accident throws everything into chaos.This is a short but affecting book not only about how we move through grief but also about how we define ourselves through relationships. As much as Yvonne longs to be alone with her memories and her thoughts, she cannot stop herself from connecting with other people and being affected by them. These strangers change the way she thinks about herself and her life in ways that she never imagined. While the accident will not come as a surprise, it is still very moving. Vida While some of the relationships in the book felt a little forced, the friendship between Yvonne and Ahmet was wonderful and the exploration of Yvonne's complex and difficult relationships with her addict daughter was also very well done.BOTTOM LINE: Recommended. This book will not appeal to everyone. It is very introspective and quiet with little action or major entanglements. Still, it manages to be affecting and provides a very interesting character in Yvonne.

[jmchshannon · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

What to say about The Lovers? It has been several weeks now, and I am still uncertain how I feel about it. If I am honest with myself, I think the true answer is that I just don't get it. I feel that the story that exists is not the one I was expecting. Rather than being about lovers, as the title would suggest, it is more about what Yvonne finding herself, examining her relationships with her family and with herself. The trip to Turkey, rather than idyllic, is flawed as the town is not what she remembers, the people and her side trips are not what she expects. However, there is a beauty behind or in spite of those flaws, albeit one that is stark rather than picturesque. Either because of my confusion or causing my confusion, The Lovers raises many questions with little in the way of answers. Why the title? Who are "The Lovers"? Are we ever truthful with others or even ourselves about our relationships? Is it a self-defense mechanism or something else? Does it take others to help us see the truth or can we find the truth on our own? I still have no idea on any of these. If the definition of a good book is one that causes the reader to question the message and lesson of a novel weeks after finishing, then The Lovers meet the mark. If not, then I may need to do some soul searching of my own because I remain confused by what Ms. Vida shares with us. My expectations were so far left of what actually occurs that I cannot help but feel more than slightly disappointed at the difference. I know others have and will continue to rave about The Lovers. As for my opinion, I wanted to like it more than I did. Unfortunately, this all combines into a book that it just not for me - too esoteric and confusing with a title that has very little to do with the novel itself.

[blacksheepdances · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Lovers, Vendela Vida The Lovers is a novel set in Turkey, where a newly widowed woman returns to the place of her honeymoon, almost three decades before. She's trying to escape her life in Vermont, and her new status as the pitied single woman among couples. As the mother of grown twins, she is conflicted with her memories of her marriage and her relationship with her children. She's discovering that as more time passes since her husband's death, the more she is forced to re-evaluate their relationship.After describing lush and green Vermont, the description of Turkey provides a stark contrast with dust, stones, and volcanic mountains. It's a none-too-subtle hint that with a new setting in place, things are going to change. But are they? This is where the novel makes a twist: nothing you think is going to happen actually happens. Once in place, she craves the company of others, so much so that she puts up with the imposition of others just to have human contact. Eventually, this leads her to a realization about her own personality and her own future. To be sure, this is not a romantic or happily-ever-after "chick" lit story. It is not Eat Love Pray, and there's no glamour, sudden insight, or handsome distraction. Rather, Yvonne, is very much alone and really has no basis to understand who she was, or is. If she's different, then it means her perceptions of her husband and children are altered too, and that's where her story becomes less typical and more interesting. In fact, the title "The Lovers" is misleading...it's not easy to determine who that would describe. It doesn't take long for her to realize she's been playing a role, but she has no other script to turn to...she doesn't quite know how to behave anymore. I don't want to reveal any spoilers, but as the plot continues, she is so disoriented that her decisions become riskier and more dangerous. Rather than feature shocking revelations or dramatic confrontations, the novel proceeds to a realistic conclusion. Rather than settle for a shallow resolution, the novel leaves you to ponder deeper complexities of personality and self.The story is fast paced, and as a main character, Yvonne is solid. But her children remain a mystery, and it's hard to grasp how they fit in with it all. Additionally, in the beginning there are hints as to the direction of the story that are misleading, and really weren't necessary at all. The book didn't need those elements to mystify us, her story alone is strong enough without them. And while the main character is female, the appeal of the plot isn't limited to a female audience.There was one seeming discrepancy: this sheltered woman has put herself in a foreign country, alone, without even a guidebook to the language. She is suspicious at times of others, and rightfully so, as malice is present, and yet she makes no great attempt to lock up her vacation rental or show any sense of caution in her actions. She's throwing euros around as tips, and everyone seems to know she's alone. Unexpected visitors, with their own keys, seem to pop up constantly, and yet she takes it all in stride. That seemed a bit out of character from how she was described, but it's a small complaint.

[bookaholicmom · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The title of this book rather frightened me. I thought maybe this could end up being a raunchy book about two lovers. Not so at all and I was so thankful for that! The story revolves around Yvonne who has recently lost her husband and is trying to come to terms with her grief. She goes to Turkey where they honeymooned only to find that Turkey has changed and so has Yvonne. Yvonne has no problems making new friends in Turkey and befriends a young boy who does not speak English and the estranged wife of the man who owns the home she is renting. I thought Yvonne was more at ease with these new friends than with her own children. There were times in this book that I was very afraid for Yvonne and the danger of traveling alone in a country and not being able to communicate with everyone. Vendela Vida did an excellent job making me feel Yvonne's pain and confusion. She portrayed Yvonne as the typical American who needs to fix everything and in many cases makes it much worse. I could so relate in that aspect! I loved the setting of Turkey. It is a setting I am not very familiar with and one I have not read much about. I'm interested in more stories set in the area. I do feel the abrupt ending works well for this short book. At first I wanted more but then decided I was very satisfied with the ending. I would recommend this book. Don't let the title frighten you off!I would give this book 4 1/2 stars! I'll also be looking for more titles from Vendela Vida as she is a new to me author.Thank you to Greg at Ecco for providing this ARC for review.

[khager_9 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Yvonne's husband has recently died and her children are adults and don't need her as they used to. She decides to go to Turkey, which is where she and her husband went on their honeymoon--but things aren't as she remembered them. This isa very good book but it's definitely character-driven, not plot-driven. So keep that in mind, because if you're looking for a fun beach read, this isn't it. But if you're looking for a great exploration of relationships (friendship, romantic, parental), this is for you.

[shellyquade · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Lovers is the tale of a woman named Yvonne and her trip to Turkey.Yvonne is alone. Literally, she has no traveling companion. On a related note, as the novel progresses, her relationships with family, friends & acquaintances are examined, as well as the idea of relationships, in general.While in Turkey, Yvonne befriends a young boy who sells shells on the beach (thus the picture on the cover of the book). This friendship is at one point compared to two people in a romantic relationship - an observation by a character in the book, not by the narrator. This passing remark sticks with the reader, both because of the book's title and the fact that numerous romantic relationships in the book have been mentioned. Yvonne and her young friend, while in no way romantically involved, get along in a way that none of the romantic relationships in the book do, but in a way that many romantic relationships are portrayed in the media.I adored this book. The writing was concise - Vida utilizes her words beautifully. She writes simply about complicated manners, and the result is a poignant novel that stays with you after you've finished the last word. I love that this book makes the reader think and that it's well written - and I think you'll love that about this book, too.