From Blog Post to Book (And Now Available for Pre-Order!)

The final jacket proof of Ciao, Sandro!, by Steven Varni and Luciano Lozano

Every native Venetian knows there’s far more to their famously beautiful city than meets the eye, but none better than a keen-eared, sharp-scenting little dog named Sandro, who leads us all around his maze-like hometown--and even out to Murano--on a top-secret mission.

This, in a nutshell, is the story of a new children's picture book I've written and Luciano Lozano has beautifully illustrated that will be published by Abrams Books for the North America market on June 8, 2021.

The book's been a long time in the works, five years to be exact, and the eponymous protagonist on the jacket cover above may look familiar to some of you, as he's modeled on an actual gondolier's dog I first wrote about on December 21, 2015 who knew how to take the vaporetti all around the lagoon--from the Venice's historic center to Giudecca and Lido--all by himself. 

That post was entitled "Venice's Greatest Explorer Is Four-legged" (from which you can see an image below). And about a month later I salvaged what I could from some research video I shot of Sandro and combined it with the audio of an interview I did with his gondolier companion Nicola (in preparation for writing the first post) and put up a two minute video (with English subtitles) in which Nicola recounts the first time the captain of a vaporetto called him to tell him his little dog had come aboard by himself: "A Dog About Town."

These two posts were the inspiration for the book, but the book itself has a story of its own, which benefits immensely from the illustrations of the Barcelona-based artist Luciano Lozano. Luciano, as you can see from his website, has produced an impressive body of work over the years (including some freshly published books, Boys Dance and Mayhem at the Musuem, I'd highly recommend), and I was thrilled when my editor told he he'd agreed to illustrate my text of Ciao, Sandro!

I was happy to leave all questions of exactly how to illustrate the book entirely up to him. My editor at Abrams had seen the blog posts that inspired the book, but whether she in turn would show them (with their images of the real-world Sandro) to Luciano was entirely up to her. My text described the dog only as being small, beyond that he could look however Luciano thought it best for him to look. In fact, I wouldn't have minded if the male dog of my original text had become female. I was looking forward to being surprised, and based upon what I'd seen of Luciano's work and of the people at Abrams, I had no fear that the surprises would be of an unpleasant sort. 

My job was done, and I hoped that the text already contained a certain subtext I only became aware of in its writing: which was a story of how, in a world overwhelmed by visual images, and in a city famous for its celebrated sights, we make our way in the world and know our place in it with the use of all of our senses. 

For Venice is not just a famous collection of stage-sets for selfies--though it is that--but a city with its own distinctive sounds and smells and textures and tastes. From my observation small children in Venice, just like small dogs, are well aware of what seems like it should be quite obvious, but it's an awareness that can diminish as one grows up.

So, really, Ciao, Sandro! is not just about the Venice of the five senses, but perhaps might serve as a reminder in this image-driven age of ours that all of our hometowns, no matter how celebrated or obscure, have their own distinctive sensory experiences.  

Or, more simply put, I'm fairly confident that of all the thousand of books published on Venice Ciao, Sandro! is probably the only one that features an espurgopozzineri boat and driver. (What's that, you may ask? Well, it has something to do with a topic of some interest to most kids: poop.)

 

CIAO, SANDRO! can be pre-ordered now on the Abrams Books website (the "PRE-ORDER" button will give you a selection of stores to place the order with online).  

Perhaps in a future post I'll write a bit about the days in early October 2019 when Luciano came to Venice to research his illustrations for the book, and the walks around the city we took, and maybe, with his permission, post some of his first sketches.

 

It was actually only on the day that Luciano arrived here in Venice, before we'd even met in person for the first time, that he sent me an image of his first sketch of what the character of Sandro would look like, which he'd just taken in a Venetian setting. You can see it below:

 

photo credit: Luciano Lozano

A Dog About Town: A Short Video on "Venice's Greatest Living Explorer"

In the course of researching my recent post on Sandro the dog who takes vaporetti around town by himself--http://veneziablog.blogspot.it/2015/12/venices-greatest-living-explorer-is.html--I recorded one of the conversations I had with Nicola Grossi, his owner. I did this simply for myself, as raw material from which to write the piece, and so that I didn't miss anything important that Nicola might say because my Italian comprehension is far from perfect.

On one of the other occasions that I met with Nicola and Sandro I did some very perfunctory tests of what it might be like to try to film Sandro as he made his way around the city (with and without Nicola). The camera I use, a Fujifilm X-T1, is marvelous for still images, but generally not recommended for video. And in fact I'd really never even tried to record video with it. But after experimenting with whether a small video camera on Sandro's collar might record some interesting clips--it didn't--I thought I'd see if it would even be possible to follow him with a hand-held video camera.

I was less concerned about the quality of the video than with whether I could even keep up with Sandro as he made his way through the streets.

The answer was: not really. And the video I ended up with was, like the audio, useful to me in thinking about the piece if for nothing else.  
 
But as I listened and re-listened to Nicola talking about Sandro on the audio recording I'd made I was struck as much by how he recounted tales of Sandro--the rhythm and pacing and emphases--as by what he recounted. His manner of speaking seemed as informative--and as entertaining--as his content.

It seemed a shame that I'd be the only one to hear it. And once I decided that perhaps the audio was an important part of the story, I looked to see if there were any video clips that, whatever their own flaws, might still somehow pair well with the audio. To give a brief but evocative sense of Sandro and Nicola and their life together.

And so I ended up with the short video (with English subtitles) above of Nicola talking about Sandro, and Sandro (and a bit of Nicola) making his way around the Rialto, as the business of an ordinary weekday begins in earnest during the city's brief off-season.
  
    

Venice's Greatest Living Explorer Is Four-legged

Sandro, seated, and Nicola Grossi, rowing, at work on the Grand Canal

If you've taken a gondola ride in Venice in the last few years it's quite possible that one of the city's most knowledgeable guides to its streets and canals may have been dozing, unbeknownst to you, beneath your brocaded seat. And if he happened to pass by you later in the day as you puzzled over a map of this famously maze-like city, you'd certainly never think to ask him for help. For one thing, he's easy to miss, as he stands about knee-high to the average adult and weighs hardly more than 10 pounds. And for another, he's a black mixed-breed dog named Sandro.

Nor would you ever think if you saw him on a vaporetto that he could advise you as to exactly which stop you should get off at in order to reach a particular destination. But if you were fluent in the language of dogs he most certainly could, as he is known among Venetians for taking vaporetti around town by himself.

Sandro belongs to a Venetian gondolier, Nicola Grossi, and accompanies him to work near the Rialto. But loyal as Sandro is, he was never much inclined to spend his entire day in a gondola. And Nicola, well aware of Sandro's excellent sense of direction, says he "never felt any need to insist he stay near me all the time. He's always been a free spirit."

Then Nicola recounts a telephone call he received years ago from the commandante of a vaporetto.  "Excuse me," the commandante said, "but I have a dog here on board with me. I found your number on his collar. Did you lose him?"

"No, not at all," Nicola told him. "He's not lost. He knows where he's going."

Unconvinced, the commandante continued, "Well, he got on board at the Ca' Rezzonico stop."

"Okay, that's fine," Nicola replied. "Really, you don't need to worry about him. Where are you now?"

"We're at the Accademia. We're heading toward San Marco."

"Great. He's sure to get off at the next stop, Santa Maria del Giglio."

And when the vaporetto arrived at Santa Maria del Giglio, the commandante, who'd stayed on the line, said, "Ah, yes, yes, you're right, he's getting off now."

Nicola explains to me, "You see, he was going to Campo Santo Stefano, where my mother lived at that time."

A short time later, Nicola's mother called him. "Sandro just showed up," she said. "Since it's noon, should I give him something to eat?"

"I told her, yes, of course," Nicola says. "Then, when he was done eating he went to the door of her apartment to show he was ready to leave. She let him out and he returned to the Rialto, to my gondola. I was at home for my own lunch. My colleagues called to tell me he'd just shown up there and asked what they should do with him. I told them to just let him be. And a little while after that he arrived home."

Sandro and Nicola during a break on the Grand Canal

Nicola's and Sandro's life together goes back more than a decade. Nicola adopted Sandro when he was three years old from a friend who knew very little about animals and paid minimal attention to him. Having spent his first years with neither a pack nor a master, Sandro was a rather odd dog, distrustful and unfriendly. But Nicola immediately saw how smart he was, and that he could take him out on Lido without a collar or leash, as Sandro was aware of everything around him and kept well clear of traffic.  

Nicola lived and worked on Lido at that time and rode his bike to his job in a store or to do the shopping. Sandro always followed behind him. At a certain point he began to accompany Nicola to his job, then head off on his own adventures.

"Lido isn't a small island," Nicola says, "it's 15 kilometers long. But Sandro learned his way all around it. He always had a great sense of orientation. He'd spend the day exploring and then, without fail, five or ten minutes before I was due to get off, he'd show up outside the store where I worked and wait for me."  

When Nicola changed jobs and moved to Venice proper Sandro quickly began to learn his way around the whole of the historic city. First on foot, then, after riding with Nicola in his small motor boat and gondola, from the water. "In this way," Nicola says, "he came to have a complete vision of the city."

Some time later Sandro's internal map of the world was expanded to include the island of the Giudecca, after Nicola's mother moved there. "I'd go to visit her," Nicola says, "and he'd come along. Sometimes I'd take my own boat, sometimes I'd take the vaporetto, and we'd walk all around the island. Then he began to make these trips himself while I was working, always getting off the vaporetto at the Redentore stop, as it's closest to her house. I had two jobs then, and if he got bored he'd take off."

"I used to start work very early in the morning in those days. After we arrived at the gondola together Sandro would set off on his own and in a little while I'd start to get calls from all the people I knew around town. Someone would call and say, I just saw your dog in Campo Santo Stefano. After a half hour, somebody else would call to tell me she just saw him in San Polo. An hour after that, another friend would call to say he saw him on Giudecca. Sandro took the vaporetto and went to one of the various places he knew, my mother's, my brother's, my sister's. I'm the youngest of eight kids, so he had a lot of options. When I finished work I'd find him waiting for me where we began the day, or already at home. He'd sit beneath our apartment and bark."  

There were other times that Nicola would set out in the gondola with clients, thinking that Sandro was asleep in his comfortable den beneath the main passenger seat or the gondolier's box. Sandro, however, would have actually gotten off the boat before Nicola departed. If Sandro then returned to the mooring while Nicola was still out he would set off along the route that he knew Nicola made in his gondola.

Now, it's important to know that each gondola in Venice that departs from a particular gondola station--for example, one of those near the Rialto or San Marco--follows a set route. Nicola has always rotated from one day to the next between various stations, which meant that Sandro, as well as his master, had to learn various routes. And learn them not only by water, as Nicola did, but also--and this is far more difficult--how to negotiate the same route on foot via the city's convoluted tangle of alleys.

But this is exactly what Sandro did learn, and for each different gondola station. For at some point as Nicola rowed his clients along one or the other of his routes, he would find Sandro waiting for him on a fondamenta (canal side), ready to rejoin him on the gondola.

Nicola tests whether a small video camera might comfortably be attached to Sandro's collar to film one of his walks

"I've never worried about him when he takes off," Nicola says. "He never roams for too long, and he can always find his way back home. There's been only one exception, when was gone for two days. But that was because he was in love. He'd fallen for a little dog who lived on Lido and for two days he sat in front of her door. He just couldn't tear himself away. The owners of the house noticed him sitting out there and called me. By the time I arrived to get him in Lido he'd given up and left, and I found him waiting for me back home."

Nicola chuckles at the memory of this and says with obvious admiration, "It was a great love affair, though we might say it was never concluded, as he never had any contact with her. But he courted his girl, his beloved, for two days non-stop outside her door."   

As Sandro approaches his 14th birthday on January 8, Nicola says he's not the fearless explorer, nor passionate suitor, he once was. He's started to get cataracts, and he's become Nicola's shadow as he never was before, seeming a little anxious if Nicola is not in sight. He's not so keen to roam on his own these days. But if he and Nicola are separated he will wait at some point where he knows Nicola is likely to pass by, and if he gets bored of waiting there, will simply return straight home. "He can always find his way home. And, fortunately, his sense of smell is still excellent. He depends upon it now more than ever."

"He had to have surgery on a little problem a while back," Nicola says, "and he has various little issues, but, fortunately, I know him well enough now that I can keep things under control. I massage him and I can feel what's bothering him."

Sandro now spends more time with Nicola in the gondola than he ever did before. I imagine him there tucked away beneath the seat, "an incomparable cosmographer", as was said of the famous 15th-century Venetian mapmaker Fra Mauro, who spent his own later years tucked away in the Camaldolese monastery of San Michele (on what is now the cemetery island). And it's not impossible to imagine those experiences Sandro may carry with him still of the ancient city's waterways, its towering edifices, its countless scents of both sea and land, the infinite textures of its paving stones, its shadowy crevices, its marble and moss and mold. Of the city's pigeons and rats and psychotic gulls. Of the torrents of feet, rushing and eddying, and of the rubber-wheeled delivery carts that splash suddenly through them, or the clattering suitcases impeding the flow. Of the roar of a vaporetto reversing its engines into the floating fermata (stop), then the great dangerous thump likely to jolt a small dog into the water. Of all his old regular rounds, his favorite haunts--reliable places to get a full meal, others for a quick scrap or two. And always, happily, at the end of the day, Nicola's wife Carlotta and young son Zaccaria at the home they all share.

Rocked gently through side canals, the plash of the oar to one side, the soothing gurgle of the gondola's flat bottom moving through the water just below, Nicola navigating just overhead, warm and secure on his blankets, Sandro dreams his own canine Book of the Marvels of the World.


***For a short video of Sandro and Nicola, click on this link to the following post: http://veneziablog.blogspot.it/2016/01/a-dog-about-town-short-video-on-venices.html