An Invitation from Italy I Couldn't Refuse

And yet, I did.

We Are Pleased to Inform You…

My glamorous life

In case you think writers have very glamorous lives (nobody actually thinks this, it’s just a way to start a paragraph), the fact is that our days are characterized by long stretches of boredom, frustration, and keyboard-pounding, punctuated by the occasional puzzling email.

Is that really an exciting publicity opportunity? Or is it spam? Or—the weirdest but also most entertaining option—is it a legitimate offer, but meant for someone else? Someone more deserving, more interesting, more fortunate? Is this email actually giving me a glimpse into the lives of other, better, more successful versions of myself that I will never fully realize?

Usually it’s spam, which is why I almost deleted an email that arrived on Sunday with the subject line, “Collaborazione Premio Elena Cornaro.” I speak just enough Italian to know that (a) this email was written in Italian, and (b) it involved a prize (premio), which I have most assuredly not won.

But I didn’t delete it. I read it (see above re: boredom), using Gmail’s translation. Here are the relevant bits:

Dear Amy,
We are pleased to present you the Elena Cornaro Prize which is the first prize dedicated to the first female graduate in the history of Italian Guinness in the world and also the First Prize dedicated exclusively to gender equality in Italy….

So far so good, right? They love my dedication to gender equality! So do I!

The 2nd Edition of the Elena Cornaro Award will be held on Saturday 8 June at 6.30 pm at the Malibran/Fenice Theater in Venice and we would very much like you to sing some musical dedications after the award categories together with the ChamberOrchestra4U symphony/jazz orchestra….

Wait. They want me to SING?

We offer you the trip, hospitality in a nice hotel in the historic center for the night of Saturday 8 June and a fee that we will agree together if you give us your availability of dates first of all and if you like the project and want to celebrate together to us this important award on gender equality which is such a sensitive topic and requires all our care and strength to find a solution and no longer have to witness all this femicidal violence.

Sincerely, etc.

There were some legitimate-looking attachments, such as programs from previous years. A quick Google search showed that this is, in fact, a real prize. Just not one that will ever be awarded to me, no matter how committed I am to gender equality and an end to femicidal violence.

So what’s going on? Here are three relevant facts:

1. I occasionally receive mail for Amii Stewart, the 1970s disco singer whose hit, Knock on Wood, will be familiar to those of you of a certain age. (If you remember the 1970s disco hit Knock on Wood, it’s time to ask your doctor about regular colonoscopy screenings)

2. I do not sing. (Well, I do, but not in tune.)

3. I look nothing like Amii Stewart, nor are my accomplishments anything like hers, all of which would be obvious to anyone who took even a glance at my website before hitting that contact form.

Usually, the mail I receive for Amii Stewart is either an email inviting her to play a gig (which I attempt to forward on, although Amii Stewart wisely doesn’t have a website and doesn’t answer her social media DMs), or actual snail mail from fans, usually a signed glossy purchased on eBay and sent to me with a request for an autograph (which, I’m sorry to say, I don’t answer, I just never get around to it, although I do feel bad for the fan who wasted the postage and the cost of the photo.)

But is this Italian organization really offering a gender equality prize to 70s-era disco singer Amii Stewart?

Believe it or not, they are. As it turns out, Amii Stewart moved to Italy in the 80s, learned to speak Italian, and has been working as a goodwill ambassador for UNICEF, where she has undoubtedly performed many humanitarian acts deserving of this prize.

Obviously the right thing to do is to reply and let them know they’ve reached the wrong Amy Stewart. Of course that’s what any reasonable person would do.

The far more interesting response, which I did consider briefly, would be to reply, accept the prize, negotiate an appearance fee, and turn up in Venice, just to see what happens next.

Ciao Venezia, I have come to receive your prizes and awards.

I have to assume that they’d notice right away that I’m not Amii Stewart. But how would they break the news to me that I was not, in fact, the recipient of their award? After all, we would’ve been corresponding for months by this point. I would’ve been effusive in my delight and gratitude, and eagerness to help make this a special evening.

I’d probably have to pretend that I hadn’t understood the part about me singing a song, and that I’d mistranslated that as “give a speech” or “make a presentation,” at which time I’d hold up the Italian versions of my books, Il Botanico Ubraico and La Ragazza con la Pistola, and tell them that I’d come prepared to read from them in Italian, as long as they could forgive a few mispronunciations.

“Mi dispiace,” I’d say. “Sono solo uno studente di italiano.”

My contributions to Italian culture and the fight for gender equality

The rest would follow along the lines of your standard 1950s-era Italian farce, or, as my brother suggested, a Seinfeld episode in which George decides to accept the award and drags Jerry and Elaine along. Kramer turns up unexpectedly and we find him chatting with the real Amii Stewart in fluent Italian. (If you understand Seinfeld references, it might be time to ask your doctor about a bone density scan.)

In case you’re wondering, I did the right thing.

Dear Mr. Rizzolo,

I am Amy Stewart, American author of many books, including The Drunken Botanist (published in Italy as Il Botanico Ubriaco) and Girl Waits with Gun (published in Italy as La Ragazza con la Pistola.) While I would be delighted to accept this offer and I actually do speak a few words of Italian, I don't think you would enjoy my singing. 

You might be looking for Amii Stewart, singer of the 70s disco hit "Knock on Wood," who (I have just learned) now lives in Italy and has in fact done many things worthy of your award.

I don't know how to suggest you find Amii Stewart, but I did just type "Amii Stewart contact information" into Google and it gave me this link.

Ciao,

Amy Stewart

If I hear back from the Italians, I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, if anyone would like to fly me to Venice to receive any sort of prize, you know where to find me.

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The bit at the end

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