Dear readers,
it’s time to toast with a limoncello. The second volume of my “Positano Trilogy” is almost finished. So, “Alla Salute!”
I’ve thought long and hard about how I would tell you about my second volume about Positano, without giving too much away – yet in a way that will let you feel why this story is important to me. The way you tell a friend at the kitchen table: calmly, honestly, and with the warmth that comes from letting someone in on your work.
The novel’s title will be announced at just the right time. It takes place about a year and a half after The Waves of Positano. You can read it without any prior knowledge. Those familiar with the first volume will recognize familiar faces; newcomers will get to know the people in their current lives – without having to fill in any gaps.
The focus is once again on the small boutique “Sofia Bellini” on the piazza. I like this place because it offers something that has become rare: time. Time to try on, to reflect, to breathe. Fabrics can do something we rarely find in emails: they respond with patience. I needed exactly this patience when writing – chapter by chapter, with an eye on the details that carry everyday life.
This time, a gentle, modern headwind blows through the idyll: a fake online shop, chargebacks, unrest from outside. Not a grand crime story, but something many of us might be familiar with – the question of who you can trust when things go awry. I wanted to tell it without technical jargon, in an understandable way and close to the characters. It’s also about exciting twists and turns, but above all, it’s about attitude: How do you stay friendly when things are difficult? And how do you stay clear without becoming harsh?
Sofia, Luca, and Maria often guided me while I was writing, sometimes also held me back. They aren’t heroines in the spotlight; they do what needs to be done. A phrase that appears more than once in the text is:
“We stay with ourselves.”
The sentence isn’t meant to be defiant, but more like an outstretched hand saying: We’re here, we’re working, we’ll find a way.
I put a lot of time into the quiet moments: the first customer in the morning, the closing of the door in the evening, the humming in-between at midday. And I tried to show Positano not as a postcard, but as a place with rhythm—the alleys, the pier, the conversations one has as one passes by. Some readers wrote to me after volume 1 that they could hear the city in their ears. That was a lovely compliment, and one I’ve taken as a guide this time.
But there are also new sounds: Giulia, who thinks even faster than she speaks, and Giacomo, the fisherman who gets by with few words. Nothing loud happens between the two—more like a cautious approach, where the right pauses are more important than the right sentences. If there’s a quote that quietly captures the essence of the story, then perhaps this one, which lands on a small note in the shop:
“For my daughter. Something that lasts.”
I don’t want to reveal any more. Just this much: No one needs to be afraid of blood and thunder. The tension comes from decisions, not violence. And yes – I believe in harmonious endings. Not smooth ones, but ones that feel honest.
A word about my work, because I was asked about it: I write early, when the day is still undecided. The first sentences often come over an espresso, the finer details later, when the light falls differently. For the boutique scenes, I again spoke with a seamstress – so the movements are just right and the words don’t overflow the truth. For the online topics, I had someone explain how payment services actually react when something goes wrong. All of this is only visible in the margins of the book; it was important to me that you navigate through the pages without stumbling.
If you liked volume , you’ll recognize the quiet tone – I consciously stuck to what many of you love about the characters: affection, reliability, small steps that ultimately carry you further than one grand gesture. And if you’re new to this, I hope you feel at home again from the very first chapter, without baggage.
I’d be delighted if you’d add my new book to your reading list – not because you need to “push” books, but because stories thrive on being shared. Feel free to tell a friend who loves Italy or someone who might need some reassurance right now. I promise to be wise with your time.
If you’d like, I’ll get in touch in the next few days with a small excerpt and a few notes from my daily writing routine – no big revelations, just the stuff you’d share around the kitchen table. Until then, all I can say is thank you: for your messages, your patience, your insightful questions. You carried me through the work.
PS: The book is expected to appear in the first bookstores in three weeks.
See you soon –
and buona lettura,
Lucia Di Angelo
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