The Amalfi Curse

“If Lia was indeed in the water, it would be impossible for the young girl to make her way back to shore. She was smaller than other girls her age, her bones fragile as seashells, and though she could swim, she’d have nothing against the power of these tides. The very purpose of the incantation had been to drive the currents toward the deep, dark sea, with enough strength to stave off a pirate ship.”

The simile that describes Lia’s bones as “fragile as seashells” emphasizes the danger that the six-year-old may be in and reinforces the novel’s maritime setting. Penner adds a poetic touch to the passage through her usage of alliteration in “deep, dark” and “strength to stave.”

“Having arrived at this rented villa only yesterday, it took me a moment to mentally retrace the layout of what would be my home for the next year. Shuffling along the cool terra-cotta floors, I walked toward the small terrace, facing southeast. It had a panoramic view of the village of Positano and its many buildings, splashes of pink and orange and white stacked vertically up the hillside like the layers of a cake. At the bottom lay the main beach, Spiaggia Grande, with its hundreds of umbrellas lined up in perfect rows. And beyond this, the Tyrrhenian Sea, showing off her luster in every shade of blue.”

The author uses imagery to establish the setting of the villa where the narrator is staying and to describe how modern-day Positano, now a popular tourist destination, differs from the historical fishing village that Mari knew. This imagery appeals to the reader’s sense of touch through details like the “cool terra-cotta floors” and sight through vibrant observations like “splashes of pink and orange” and “every shade of blue.” These sensory details create an atmosphere of beauty and serenity, and the simile comparing Positano’s layout to a layered cake presents the town in a playful light.

“‘I went for a swim.’ Corso slowly dragged his eyes across her waist and breasts. He is imagining me naked in the sea, Mari thought, like she was another curio pulled from a bag.”

The simile that likens Mari to “another curio pulled from a bag” expresses Corso’s presumptuousness and covetousness of the woman. Penner’s diction in choosing the word “curio” suggests Corso doesn’t understand the objects that Mari finds in the sea, viewing them only as curiosities that might have aesthetic or monetary value. By extension, he doesn’t understand Mari and merely seeks to possess her because of her beauty. This passage helps to establish the novel’s exploration of men’s greed, a key obstacle in The Intergenerational Struggle for Women’s Independence.

“Settling down, I fought off a feeling of disappointment: this beach was far more crowded than I’d have liked. Polluted, too. I glanced out at the small tenders queued up alongside the seawall, a sort of makeshift marina. Streaks of oil trailed behind several of them, glinting black and purple in the sunlight like bruises on the water.”

As a nautical archaeologist who has loved the water all her life, Mari has a strong sense of environmental justice. Her values inform the simile comparing the oil slicks to “bruises on the water.” This figure of speech portrays the ocean as a person who is injured by pollution, appealing to the reader’s conscience.

“He could only be the second Mazza brother. Matteo. The older, more wicked of the two. Mari knew, instinctively, that he’d seen it all—what she’d done to his brother. How she’d harnessed the sea. How she’d killed a man without so much as touching him.”

Throughout the novel, Penner utilizes sentence structure to create mood. In this passage, stylistic fragments and the anaphora created by the repetition of the word “How” underscore Mari’s shock and horror as she realizes that her secret has been discovered by a powerful enemy.

“‘A knife? You are the most skilled strega in Positano, and you let my daughter go because you could not fight off a man with a knife?’ Mari shook her head, held out her bloodied hands. ‘I killed him. I killed Massimo so I could get past him, go in search of her.’ Then, she grasped Ami’s hand, giving her a grave look. ‘Matteo saw everything.’”

The repetition and italics on the word “knife” emphasize Ami’s incredulity and recrimination towards Mari when she learns that her daughter has been abducted. The adjective “bloodied” carries a double meaning: Mari’s hands are literally bloody from how vigorously she rowed her boat back to the village, and they are figuratively covered in blood because she took Massimo’s life. The repetition of the word “killed” underscores the lengths that she will go to defend and protect her people.

“When the tender slowed next to the imposing hull of the ship, Mari could hear laughs and shouts from the men aboard, as well as the clatter of metal and rope. All of this, interspersed with the sound of Vivi’s soft weeping.”

Penner adds to the scene’s suspense using onomatopoeic words like “clatter” and auditory imagery like “laughs and shouts.” The contrast between the men’s laughter and Vivi’s weeping adds to the passage’s ominous tone because it indicates that Matteo’s crew will show the captives no mercy.

“I reluctantly lifted my glass and took a sip, anticipating the bright, sweet citrus flavor. Instead, it tasted flat, almost bitter.”

These sentences abound with adjectives that provide gustatory imagery, such as “bright, sweet” and “flat, almost bitter.” Penner uses the limoncello’s unexpectedly disappointing flavor to mirror Haven’s surprise at the uncomfortable direction her conversation with Savina takes. Although Savina is happy to hear that Haven is dating her son, the sweetness of her approval is marred by the bitterness of Savina’s callous reactions to the recent tragedy in Li Galli.

“The charts and site plans themselves—without my analysis—were also on a one-terabyte thumb drive. I tossed that in my bag, along with the documentation and approvals from various Italian authorities, including the coast guard. But when I was nearly ready to go, I hesitated, looking down at my bag. Did I really owe Conrad the binder? The raw data and site plans were, after all, on the thumb drive. The binder contained my notes, my research, my strategies.”

Italics and the repetition of the word “my” emphasize Haven’s determination not to surrender her hard work to Conrad, who has already taken a great deal from her. Her decision demonstrates her resolute nature and underscores the novel’s thematic engagement with women’s struggle for independence.

“‘Haven,’ he said, and I thought I caught something sad in his eyes—memories, maybe, of the ways things were before my father died: the three of us sharing fresh-catch dinners at a dive bar in Key West. Conrad and my father having one too many beers and belting out the words to ‘Fly Like an Eagle.’ A late-night dive several years ago, all of us searching for bioluminescent plankton and parrotfish cocoons.”

The author uses stylistic fragments to show how flashes of memory pass through Haven’s mind. These glimpses into her and Conrad’s past are made more vivid through details that appeal to the readers’ senses of taste, such as “fresh-catch dinners,” and hearing, such as the song “Fly Like an Eagle.” The passage shows that Haven still deeply cherishes her memories with her father, which explains why part of her still wants to trust his friend even though Conrad betrayed her by taking over Project Relic.

“I took as many pictures as I could from a variety of angles, using the strobe light in places where the ambient light was insufficient. I couldn’t resist snagging a few pictures of the marine life, too: orange polyps clinging to wreckage and swaying in the current; a school of grouper, their silvery skin reflecting the light of my strobe; and a lone green sea worm crawling in the sand.”

Penner uses colors like “orange” and “green” to provide visual imagery and help the reader picture the vivid underwater world of Li Galli. The author’s diction in the passage’s second sentence is key. Haven “couldn’t resist” taking photographs of the local marine life, even though they have no bearing on her project, indicating that her relationship with Enzo is helping her rediscover her sense of joy after the grief of her father’s death.

“Now the Aquila pitched and tossed amid the heavy swells. It was near impossible for Holmes to hear the shouts of his officers over the screeching wind and the clamor of wet canvas catching the squalls above him. Rain and sea spray pummeled his face, blurring his vision. The brig shuddered several times as she careened into the troughs between swells.”

The author captures the fear that Holmes and the rest of the Aquila’s crew feel during the sea storm through auditory imagery, such as “the shouts of his officers” and the “screeching wind,” and precise verbs, such as “pitched and tossed” and “pummeled.” These details raise the story’s suspense and contribute to the scene’s frenzied mood.

“‘We’ve lost it!’ Quinto shouted, a flash of panic in his eyes. Fore sails such as this one were imperative for keeping a ship sound in turbulent weather. Holmes’s stomach lurched. Indeed, the flying jib was now little more than a torn kite flapping in the wind. It was all happening just as he’d intended.”

By comparing the sail that’s meant to keep the ship safe to “a torn kite flapping in the wind,” the author emphasizes the great peril that threatens the Aquila. The passage highlights the flying jib’s importance, adding to the impact of the reveal that Holmes deliberately sabotaged the sail.

“I hear the constant sloshing of the bilges below the cargo deck where I’m imprisoned—a mix of seawater, festering excrement, tar, and food scraps. I smell it, too, piss and fish guts. A rat has crawled through the iron bars. He sits at my feet, gnawing on the sole of my shoe. It is very dark, for only the faintest light comes through a few cracks between planks. It is bitterly cold, too. I will never sail again. This I know. After they arrest me, they will kill me.”

This excerpt utilizes olfactory imagery (“I smell it, too, piss and fish guts.”), auditory imagery (“the constant sloshing of the bilges”), and visual imagery (“the faintest light comes through a few cracks”). These sensory details create a despairing mood that underlines the abject hopelessness of Holmes’s condition. Penner’s novel portrays self-sacrifice as the ultimate expression of love, and this passage paints a clear picture of Holmes’s love for Mari by showing how he has sacrificed everything to try and protect her.

“‘What do you think?’ Corso whispered. ‘It is unspeakably valuable, given the custom fil—’ ‘I think I want Lia home,’ she interrupted. ‘Viviana and the Fontana sisters, too. I want Leo to be alive. I want all of this to disappear.’”

The diction and repetition in Mari and Corso’s dialogue make the irreconcilable differences between the characters clear. He demonstrates his obsession with wealth by boasting about the “unspeakably valuable” ring he uses to propose. In stark contrast, the repetition of “I want” underscores that Mari’s priority is protecting Positano and freeing the villagers who have been taken captive.

“She pushed herself upright, clearing dirt and leaves from her gown. She wiped her hand across her face, blinking back tears. There was no time for it now. She had a lifetime to grieve the loss of a dream, the loss of being Holmes’s wife. Right now, however, there was a task at hand.”

The repetition of the word “loss” underscores the protagonist’s grief as she prepares to sink the ship carrying the man she loves. Penner’s diction conveys the character’s resolve through verb phrases that describe the ways she’s readying herself for action (“pushed herself upright”) and keeping her powerful emotions at bay (“blinking back tears”).

“Yet as Mari grew older, her suspicions matured. Like prying a mussel shell open with a knife, Mari eventually understood that some people—women, especially—tucked away their most tender secrets. Secrets like greed.”

The simile compares discerning others’ secrets to “prying a mussel shell open with a knife.” This comparison reflects the novel’s maritime setting and illustrates how her mother’s departure has shaped Mari’s disillusioned worldview.

“It was then that I caught a flash of skin. Bare shoulders, bare neck, and hair the color of cherries. […] In her hands was a small turtle, a hook protruding from his mouth. She looked dismayed—I thought she might even be crying—as she worked to remove the object. I thought her straight out of a book. A painting. A dream. Who, I wondered, was this woman that had just emerged from the sea?”

Holmes’s diary entry depicts the romantic convention of love at first sight. The repetition of the word “bare,” the visual imagery of “hair the color of cherries,” and fragments comparing Mari to someone out of a “painting” or a “dream” all express how surreal her beauty seems to the sailor.

“If I did not embrace—and more importantly, use—my powers, this curse would continue to weigh upon me. She once told me that rejecting my gift was like cutting circulation from my limbs. My lineage, whether I like it or not, is my lifeblood. Cut it out, and every part of me will perish. Including my own children, it seems.”

Savina’s dialogue uses literary devices to explain why she is convinced that the misfortunes in her life can be traced back to her rejection of her magical heritage. A metaphor compares her lineage to her “lifeblood,” and a simile says that “rejecting [her] gift” is “like cutting circulation from [her] limbs.” These instances of figurative language emphasize the woman’s distress and help to show why she uses her magic in harmful ways. Savina’s difficult relationship with her magical lineage advances the novel’s exploration of Reckoning With History and Heritage.

“Mari bent forward along the shoreline, heaving for air. She could not breathe. She could not think. Her arms trembled violently as she attempted to keep herself from collapsing. They had ceased their incantations. The women had sunk the Aquila. Holmes was dead.”

The repetition of “She could not” at the start of the second and third sentences is an example of anaphora—a technique that conveys Mari’s shock and grief after the Aquila sinks. The last sentence in the passage is only three words long, and its brevity carries a sense of finality that reflects Mari’s certainty that Holmes is dead.

“Perhaps she could shout for him, call Holmes’s name in case he had somehow escaped the floundering vessel. But she knew this was mere fantasy: she’d watched the ropes snap, the hull buckle. She’d heard the screams, men begging for their mothers before being sucked under. She’d smelled the salt on the air, watched as the sea mist was expelled upward from the revolving whirlpool.”

The author uses imagery to make the shipwreck more vivid and depict how it haunts Mari. The passage contains olfactory imagery, such as “the salt on the air,” auditory imagery, such as “the screams,” and visual imagery, such as “the sea mist was expelled upward from the revolving whirlpool.” These sensory details deepen Mari’s conviction that Holmes is dead, giving the passage a desolate mood.

“There were no dolphins alongside her, no seabirds to escort her out. It was only Mari and the black waves below her, luring her, like the sirens had done centuries ago to unsuspecting sailors. She felt betrayed by her lineage, by every circumstance leading her to this moment.”

The repetition of the word “no” emphasizes how alone and forlorn Mari feels as she prepares to sacrifice herself to cast a powerful curse. The simile comparing the waves to sirens operates on multiple levels. Mari is moving towards danger like the “unsuspecting sailors” lured by sirens, but she is also descended from sirens. The sense of betrayal she expresses in the last sentence highlights the novel’s examination of curses and their role in the characters' need to reckon with history and heritage.

“‘I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear that.’ Then he kissed me with such urgency, such need, I had to place my hands on the wall behind me, lest my knees give out. I knew for sure, this time, that nothing about this moment was Savina’s doing. She didn’t even know I was back in Positano. There was no magic here. No witchcraft. This was as real as it could get.”

In the final scene with Haven and Enzo, the repetition in the phrase “such urgency, such need” accentuates the romantic tone. Earlier in the novel, Savina credited her magic with the couple’s meeting. The repetition of the word “no” underscores Haven’s assertion that no supernatural power is influencing the couple’s actions. She can pursue her love for Enzo without compromising her independence or decision-making power.