NEWS
Horace Bent Bent’s Notes
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Bent’s Notes Horace Bent @horacebent
As the children’s book trade decamps to the gastronomic hub for another fair, mask-wearing is in force and there’s a shock at the gelato stand
Guess who? Bemasked Bologna returns...
I was told that vegan gelato is suddenly quite the trendy thing in Italy. What fresh, woke-culture- gone-mad hell is this?
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entornati, amici! It is so good to be back in the Pleasantly Plump Cit. I have found it so very reas- suring that in many ways it is the same old Bologna: the queues, the tardiness, the somewhat lackadaisical atention to detail. Did I mention the queues? I mean, the old me in Bolognas
before the End Times might have goten slightly tetchy that the card machine at the coffee kiosk broke and had to be replaced—three times, at an excruciatingly slow pace by the servers—before I was able to get my morning macchiato. And I tell you, you don’t want to vex old Horace before his first sip of joe.
Of course, I did have a brief sweating panic that I had spaffed through my entire expense account (and it’s a very generous expense; we’re talking A F Steadman-advance, SamCopeland-bonus levels) the previous night at DaFabio’s. Anything, I have to admit, is possible—I tend to find it gets a tad hazy aſter the fiſth or sixth limoncello. But it was not my card at fault, it was this imperfect, wonder- ful, glorious Bologna inefficiency I have dearly missed. All is not the same, though, as something very dark and disturbing has happened over the pandemic. I went to the gelato artiginale cart in the forum and paid cash, though I was prepared to go with the barter system if need be—some back issues of The Bookseller and lunch with our head of client development for a cone of straccia- tella?—and there are now (my hands shake as I tpe this) vegan options. Not only that, I was told that vegan gelato is suddenly quite the trendy thing in Italy. What fresh, woke- culture-gone-mad hell is this?
The strangest thing of this Bologna is that you can’t tell
The fat of the land Bologna’s gelato stands left have embraced ‘plant- based’ ice cream—much to Horace’s dismay...
a Hilary Murray Hill from a Belinda Rasmussen, as you’re all masked up—just like I was when I stole the Walker Bear window off its stand to stop people posing in front of it. Wait a minute, I’m doing that tomorrow. You’re welcome in advance, Walker. Only Klaus Flugge, his luxuriant eyebrows dancing above his FFP2 like two ravenously hungry caterpillars, is immediately noticeable.
But, my, there is some Big Stand Energy going on among those companies that threw caution to the wind and brought their usual setup. There is something overly dressed about it given the look of the halls, like wearing a tuxedo to a barbecue. But I thank you, Usborne. You know I love you, but leaving your neon green and yellow, er, spectacle of a stand at home has saved me from the usual bouts of vertigo I get when I trundle by. The mask mandates here are comforting as a govern- ment policy of recognising the dangers seems more sensible than the UK’s: “Covid? It’s over. In fact, we’ve never even heard of it.” Although on the last day of the fair, I’ll be ripping the mask off in the hopes of catching a mild case of the ’vid and being forced to prolong my stay, vegan gelato be damned. See you at the S’wine later, yeah? I’ll be the one in the
mask.
TheBookseller.com 09
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