There is Truth in Wine
Even in Fiction
I studied Latin for a few years. Handy language for a writer, as so many of the “romance languages”—Italian, French, Portuguese, and Spanish have words that trace their origins back to Latin. Makes it easier to figure things out when you’re using an international setting. Even English pulls words from Latin. Many of the ancient phrases are still in general use and have become proverbs.
In vino veritas. There is truth in wine.
It is ascribed to Pliny the Elder in the first century AD and was used in his Naturalis Historia. It basically means that people who drink too much lose their inhibitions and tell the truth. Their tongues loosen up.
I have a good amount of wine in The Bone Shroud. One of my characters has traded his beer and pretzel tastes for fine wine. The chief backer of a character’s archaeological dig owns a vineyard. Shared glasses of wine brought two of the characters together.
There is truth in wine in The Bone Shroud. But there is also a little deception.
The best part of putting wine in The Bone Shroud was doing the research. Amazing the number of vineyards in and around Rome…throughout Italy. I studied grapes, harvests, vintages—and used only a little of the information in my book. I figure you just need to see the cart stopped in the middle of the road, right? You don’t need to know how it was constructed, how many nails are in it, what type of wood was used, and how many horses are required to pull it. I used just enough of the information to make it “real” and accurate without providing a lecture one might find on the Food Network. Fiction without facts doesn’t make for a very good story.
An interesting tidbit: some wineries use machines with conveyor belts to harvest their grapes. It’s faster. But some vineyards won’t let any such machines come on the property, believing the fruits can be bruised in the process and the wine lessened because of it. They hire people to gently pull the grapes. And they prefer to hire women because their fingers tend to be slender, better able to reach into the vines without disturbing the fruit. The vineyard in my book hires women at harvest time. And its wines are award-winning.
I have two bottles of wine in my house … one has been sitting in the refrigerator, half-full. Maybe I’ll serve it with Hamburger Helper tonight. It’s cherry wine. The other bottle is in the cupboard and was purchased a few years ago. It’s a strawberry zin, or some such. I tend to favor fruity, sweet wines that come with a screw cap. And though there is a good bit of wine in my book, I rarely imbibe. I’m all about pineapple orange juice or Diet Dr. Pepper. But now that I’ve written this column … yeah, that cherry wine is coming out of the fridge for dinner. Maybe I’ll find some truth in it.
Here is a wine-touched excerpt from The Bone Shroud.
The wedding was on the eighth, and Irem had intended to spend one or two of the in-between days with her brother, sightseeing. The Forum, Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and Castel Sant’ Angelo were on her list. She hoped to do more sightseeing on her own after the ceremony, probably back here, to the Conservatori. Yet the thought of an archaeology dig was intriguing, especially so she could check out the old fart that Levent was so enamored of.
“Well, I—”
“Of course, she will,” Levent cut in.
“Meravigliosa! In the morning then,” Benito said. To Levent: “Go, show her my pieces.” He spun back to the circle of people.
Irem drained her wine and set the empty glass on a tray. Then she let her brother lead her from the gallery and down the hall. She was thankful to be away from the press of people with their myriad scents and wagging tongues, conversations in Italian that she couldn’t understand beyond a scattered word or two.
“Where did you meet him, Lev? You never told me—”
“A retro bar, not far from here, and—”
“Do you realize—”
“—that we still interrupt each other’s conversations?” He grinned wickedly. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“Benito … he’s—”
“Last I heard, you like older men, too. That karate instructor—”
“Hapkido, not karate.”
“That hapkido instructor, Reggie—”
“Ronnie.”
“I never cared for him.”
“You never met him, Lev.”
“Don’t need to. Don’t want to. I read your emails. He’s not good enough. What do you see in a sweaty muscle man who teaches people how to hit each other? Karate, really?”
“It was hapkido. And it’s over.”
“Good.”
“And he was only seven years older than me, not—”
“Twenty-five. That’s what you want to know, right? Benito is twenty-five years older than me. He just celebrated his forty-ninth birthday. Just.” Levent put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Irem—”
“Lev, do you really love—”
“Yes. We had wine on our first meeting. I watched him roll his glass between his hands and he peered over the edge of it as if teasing himself what it would taste like. I drank my own wine, too fast maybe, it tingled against my lips like there was electricity in it, and I held the last of it in my mouth, savoring it, and he still hadn’t taken a sip. Wine hadn’t tasted so good as it did in that moment, and then I realized the electricity came from his eyes and our connection.” He shrugged. “Maybe there was nothing to the wine at all. Maybe the moment just made everything wonderful.”
Jean Rabe is the author of three dozen novels and more than a hundred short stories. When she’s not writing or editing, she tosses tennis balls to her dogs, indulges in fantasy football leagues, and fuses glass jewelry in her basement.
The Bone Shroud: https://www.amazon.com/Bone-Shroud-Jean-Rabe-ebook/dp/B07B6S5F7Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1521566482&sr=8-1&keywords=the+bone+shroud+jean+rabe
You can find my blog at: http://jeanerlenerabe.blogspot.com/
And my Amazon author page at: https://www.amazon.com/Jean-Rabe/e/B00J1QR5U2/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_1
My personal webpage is at www.jeanrabe.com
I have a newsletter filled with tidbits about my upcoming books, reviews of things I’m reading, and writing advice. You can subscribe here: http://jeanrabe.us14.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=89364515308e8b5e7ffdf6892&id=9404531a4b
THE BONE SHROUD
Irem Madigan’s wedding trip to Rome turns into a desperate search for an archaeological prize, and a struggle to stay ahead of a killer.
Set in and under Rome, The Bone Shroud is a love story wrapped in a perilous relic-hunt.
Irem flies to Italy to be the “best man” in her brother’s wedding. He’s marrying an archaeologist bent on revealing the graves of some famous ancient dead. Irem, an archivist at the Chicago Field Museum, becomes obsessed with the centuries-old mysteries.
Unfortunately, Irem discovers there are other players in the game, and some of them are playing deadly. Can she survive and uncover the ancient secrets?
“Intrigue, romance, and danger amid the relics of Rome’s storied past, with compelling characters and building tension that will keep you turning pages!” Gail Z. Martin, bestselling author of Vendetta
“Strong characters, shady dealings, ruthless villains, a beautiful setting, an ancient mystery–The Bone Shroud has ’em all. Don’t miss it!” New York Times bestselling Richard Baker, author of Valiant Dust
• Print Length: 284 pages
• Publisher: Boone Street Press (March 30, 2018)
• Publication Date: March 30, 2018
• Language: English
• ASIN: B07B6S5F7
• ISBN-10: 1732003602
• ISBN-13: 978-1732003606
Amazon Kindle Link:
https://www.amazon.com/Bone-
Amazon Book Link:
https://www.amazon.com/Bone-
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jean Rabe is the author of three dozen novels published by small and major presses, has been on the USA Today bestseller’s list, and is a former crime reporter. Jean lives in a tiny town in central Illinois that boasts a gas station, Dollar General, and a pizza place with slow service. She writes with dogs wrapped around her feet while listening to the “music” of passing trains. She is active on Facebook and Twitter, blogs, and maintains a website: jeanrabe.com. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, the International Thriller Writers, and the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers.