Novel - The Ozone Café, Harbour Crossing

Harbour Crossing

With sails brightening Sydney Harbour, and noisy tugboats hugging the liner like pilot fish, Vincenzo waited in the main lobby area. He sat close to his suitcases; little Pomadina slumped beside him, chin leaning on her paws.
He was glad to be free of his fellow passengers; especially the two sickly boys, who Lars had carried around on most days like two ends of a wet rope. Since they had complained about Pomadina, Vincenzo was a cool customer, he thought; usually darting from view when Lars and his big armfuls of children rounded certain corners. In the dining room, Vincenzo always made a reservation with another migrant family from Sicily, and only at bedtime did he grunt two words at the man. When Vincenzo came face to face with him, which was often in the main bar, he raised two fingers in a secret Calabrian salute (a leftover war infiltrators’ sign). And when Lars, (dressed in a red waistcoat), raised his green Swiss hat in greeting, along with his fly-away foxtail hair, Vincenzo thought how very similar he looked to an animal actor he’d once seen in a play of Little Red Riding Hood.
Vincenzo was keen to leave the ship; spending two days completely ill under a blanket on a windless deck; his polo-neck jumper pulled up high. He wasn’t sure whether the sea had made him sick, or through watching others run with their hands ready to spill. By the time the ship sailed out of the Great Australian Bight, Vincenzo recognized the wilderness around him, and thought about the population with his imagination. He couldn’t have stood the journey if it hadn’t been for the Paolucci family. Waiting together, they had asked him if he wanted a lift when the ship docked. Something Vincenzo found most kind. Now almost Australian, they had a twang in their voice that he found quaint; telling him that he would soon learn words like ‘mate’, ‘good-onyer’, and ‘cobber’. Everyone was friendly in Sydney, they said.
‘Oh, no, many thanks, kind peoples, but my brother Renato is meeting me. He been here now maybe for ten years. Starting a building company.’ Vincenzo said, raising his glass, and clicking a last vodka Dakari with the couple.
‘Cin, Cin,’ said Bruno. ‘Eh, here, you take my card. It’s got our address and telephone number on. Rena and I would be pleased to see you again. We over there in Sutherland now, we have a nice house, plenty of room, eh, Rena?’
‘And when Maria comes, you bring her too, Vincenzo,’ she said, pinching both of his cheeks.
‘Aah,’ said Vincenzo. ‘When she arrive, we have big party!’

Novel Writing

Creative Writing Resources
Resources are fairly important for the novelist. The internet provides an abundance of sites that specifically deal with creative writing, writing tips, prompts, and most importantly - technique. As a prose teacher, I find these following sites beneficial in constructing class notes. They are placed here on my blog, mainly for my own convenience and daily searches.

Interactives - Literature
One of Us - Writing Tips
Writing Companion

Novel - The Ozone Café, B2 - Lower Deck

B2 - Lower Deck

Vincenzo unpacked his blue striped pyjamas and placed them under his pillow. He put Pomadina's things in one corner and proceeded to fill a small dish of water from a porcelain pitcher. He was about to leave the cabin with Pomadina, when three roommates bundled themselves through the door.

'Hiya,' the man said, lifting a Tyrolean hat in the air. 'Lars est my name. And this is Roland und Yetz. We are all set then.'

Vincenzo swapped the dog over to one side to free his right hand which he extended to Lars. 'I am very pleased to meet your family. I am Vincenzo of Calabria.' For about two minutes they held a tight grip, the man obviously ecstatic about his trip, continued to rattle Vincenzo's five fingers.

'I have my dog here,' he said. 'I found it strange, no one to take him in the baggage room. I hope you don't mind little bushkush here. She's my only companion to Australia.'

'You leave the dog in here?' said Lars. 'But it's no room for animals, sir! We better do something about it, na?'

'Hey, what you call my Pomadina, an animal?'

'I go see the steward. Come boys, this is not good.' Lars left the confined quarters in a hurry, lifting his two boys up and out through the narrow passageway of the door. Vincenzo sat on the end of the bed, and let Pomadina sniff around the man's luggage. She squatted over a limp attaché case, letting a small stream trickle down the side of the new leather. Vincenzo was too upset to notice. He opened a small valise and read some of the contents from a large envelope. 'Says here, Pomadina, you are to be kept in a cage with food and drink in the bloody baggage hold.'About to step out of the cabin once more, Vincenzo was confronted by a rather tall man in a black uniform, who began explaining that he could not keep a dog in such confined quarters. And that a - Mr Lars Rausis and his two boys - were very upset to think that he would keep the dog in the room.

'I make no trouble,' said Vincenzo, 'but this bloody boat company has me scratching my head. And you can see if I scratch too hard, I will loosen already my only few hairs.'

'I'm sorry, sir,' said the steward. 'Please pass me your dog and I will fix everything. You can visit him on the lower deck in B2. There is nice straw there. A very comfortable room where we are housing, oh, let's see - one parrot, two cats, a chihuahua and soon a very nice little Pomadina owned by one Mr Vincenzo Polamo.'

Novel - The Ozone Café, Voyage to Sunrise

Voyage to Sunrise

Vincenzo left his rocky shores without Maria, who remained unconvinced that Australia could ever offer her a land of milk and honey. (If it had been gorgonzola cheese, she might have considered). Instead her husband's words fell like drops of frustrated spit to the ground. He was sick of clasping his hands together, forever explaining that his older brother Renato would see to a new house for them. She could have the colosseum front porch, like his, the same arbor and pergola, the same 1 acre backyard, enough room for the cottage vegetable industry, (already Vincenzo's legs pacing out a future subdivision). But all the dropping to his knees on wobbly pins like his marriage proposal, only left Maria housing a permanent sun squint, as if to say, 'Vinnybum, this woman has made up her mind, read my furrows.'
In the fifties, most Italians left by ship for America or to Australia. Vincenzo's ship was called the Columbo. A marvellous steel bulk of bolts and nuts, with a wide steerage, cramped 4-berth cabins, windworn decks & rooms of table tennis, darts and Baccarat.
On the Sunday at 1.00pm, or close to that time, Vincenzo arrived by bus with Pomadina tucked firmly in the shoulder bag. He looked out on the colourful lines of streamers that left passengers' hands in quick successive throws. He had no one to say goodbye. Although Joanna, his fourth daughter, had telephoned to say she'd be there to wave goodbye, the sunny spot near the big hanger shed, was empty of her shade.
He bundled Pomadina in a blanket, together with her favourite bowl & leash and proceeded to the lower deck. He rang the bell. He rang it again. Then he read the notice - the baggage room was unattended due to illness.
What - in all of Italy- could he do now with Pomadina. There was only one thing he could do, and that was for this little dog to join him in his cabin. How nice, he thought, imagining her sleeping at the end of his bed. Like back home.

Novel - The Ozone Café, Leaving Italy

Leaving Italy

Vincenzo lifted his soft Calabrian beret from the hatstand, wrapped his Scottish scarf twice around his neck and whistled to Pomadina, already carrying her leash. He stepped into the tiny lane of his misty town. He would walk up to Mrs Scorcese’s bread shop for the last time. He would amble back down the right handside, call into old Joe’s for his last newspaper, then buy three red apples at Bernie’s for the bus trip. He was leaving for Australia.
   'Hey,' he said to Gino Scorcese, 'I got my boat tickets in the mail today. One for me and one for Pomadina.' He looked down at the dog, lifting her hind leg in a rotating movement as if winding a hidden clock.
   'You better put some flea powder on that animal before she gets to Australia,' said Angela Scorcese. 'Otherwise, they won’t let you in, huh?'
   'Aah', said Vincenzo. 'Maria doesn't want her to go, not yet. But I need some company in that new place, before she decides to come.'
   'She’s half-n-half, Vinny,' said Angela. 'She told me. Angie, I don’t wanna move ‘cause of the girls.'
   'Aah,' repeated Vincenzo. 'She’ll miss my warm body too much, and then pronto, she’ll ring me up, and say Vinnybum, I’m coming!'