An Excerpt From a Novel in Search of a Name by Jude Lopez

 Jude Gerald Lopez of II BA English Copy Editor

started working on his NaNoWriMo project from the midnight of November 1st. 

What he needed to do to become a winner in the project was 

to write a novel of 50,000 words by the end of the month, but he crossed the word limit by the 25th. It seems he took the writing too seriously that he can't stop writing now. We are waiting for the finished first draft, and he promises to produce it by this Friday.

In the meantime, here is a teaser of his fictional world, 

which is all Italian! 

Synopsis: Tobias, who happens to find his life and its occurrences too stagnant and boring, begins to put pieces of his past and imagination on to paper. At the height of routine and boredom he sets his imaginary double in the 17th Century Italy, a time and place that continues to arouse curiosity in his mind. He seeks to re-discover himself through his fictitious double Carlo Bianchi. The tale of Carlo that Tobias writes surfaces in his insight and over time begins to merge with the real world. As he immerses himself into the labyrinths of his tale Tobias finds himself in a rather awkward position in which he writes in order to satisfy his desires. The thin line begins to dull, and a continuous cycle of confusion erupts leading to bitter confrontations between Tobias and his creation Carlo Bianchi.

 Excerpt from the Novel

Timothy Abraham had now moved from occasionally sick to fatally ill according to the reports he received from his doctor. The old man, after his long slumber that lasted for twelve hours, got up and with the help of his driver, who was rarely employed, went to the city hospital. Tobias was still asleep when he left and found out about this only when Timothy phoned him from the hospital. The phone bell rang waking Tobias from his sleep at around ten in the morning. His father also told him not to expect him till evening at least, owing to some visits he had to do. Tobias was a bit puzzled and felt guilty for not accompanying his father who happened to be in such a condition, even though it was really not his fault. Such news came as a shock to him.

After breakfast he was tempted to call Bianca who was bound to be sitting around with her aunt with absolutely nothing to do. He didn’t know his aunt’s number by heart and so he went to his father’s room for his phone book. He went straight to the desk and opening the left drawer he immediately laid his eyes on the black leather bound phone book, the pages of which had been creased and stained. He also picked up a few more white sheets and went downstairs. It was raining now and he took a moment or two to gaze at the strands of water that kept falling from the skies. After a few minutes still in a trance the rain put him in, Tobias left for his room with a couple of white sheets of paper in one hand and his aunt’s number scribbled in the other's palm.

The warm summer’s night welcomed me as I went up to the balcony that overlooked the Grand Canal. The Palazzo Gritti was a rectangular structure that had two facades unlike typical Venetian structures that solely overlooked the canal or a courtyard. Even though the building is said to have a Renaissance influence, it was clear that it had unnoticeable amounts of Gothic influence as well. The second façade (which I visited later) was also equally appealing in splendour and faced the Campo San Geremia. The party was reaching its heights and when I stepped on to the balcony there were just a few guests who pillared themselves in a few corners. I got there un-noticed, paying just a few courteous smiles and nods on the way. The ambience was something that I find hard to describe right now as my mind is losing touch of the images and sensations of splendour and have grown accustomed to the dingy cell that has been made my home. What I remember of the balcony experience gets overlapped with my similar encounter in the inn, so I intend to spend less time describing the enchantment I was subjected to because I feel sure that all I’ll be doing then is recounting things that have already been recounted. I know that you’re running out of patience and I…I am running out not of a tale but of paper, may be if needed, I’ll take this mad tale to the walls. But I promise you that I will be true to my promises.

So once the charm of the night city was spent, fruitfully I must add, and once I got bored and tired of the continuous flattery the city showered on me I decided to go find Pierto and Papa and spend time in their company. But things were not to be as I had planned, for destiny - she had other ideas.

I went down the stairs that led back into the hall and as I descended down those three steps I noticed a pale creature with its eyes fixed on me. Turning back I motioned towards this lovely lady who looked desperately in the need of fine company. As all respectable women do she turned her eyes away from me as soon as they met. She was not a mere creature after all, in her scarlet gown studded with sequins that twinkled with the help of the drops of light the moon shed she stood there awaiting my company (I hoped). Her hair tied back, with a few brown curls that lay as a veil that protected her hazel eyes. The pale skin tone she had seemed to be intensified with the lighting and as I approached her, I felt liberated and inclined. Was it my luck that the gentlemen of Venice had such pathetic taste? I was glad they failed to recognize beauty; it was understandable when one lives amidst such splendour. For if it was not for such an attitude of theirs I do not think that I would have been so lucky; not even with the use of my father’s name. 

“I see, you too share the same enthusiasm for the warm summer moonlit night!” I said trying to put the wheels of a charming conversation in motion.

She was a bit shocked, I noticed, but then I went on to notice far more charming characteristics of her personality. “These parties tend to lose their charm when one has to go to them every other day” she said in tone that melted hearts as hard as stone.

“Let me introduce myself, for I feel that it is what I am obliged to do.” And just as I was to say my name, she gave me permission to do so. I did not expect that for no one does that and when someone goes about to introduce himself he might ask permission in literal terms but then he anticipated that no one would bother about such formalities, but she did. And it showed that she wished to remain in control. I must confess that at that point of realization I forgot all her external charms, all her beauty and grace, for that last quality she made visible…yes that was what struck me. Cupid's arrow had hit right on target and that was what made me do all the things I did. Like I said I regret not the things that I have done. I regret nothing.

“I am Carlo Bianchi from the town of Lenzari in Sardinia.”