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50 pages 1 hour read

Jenna Evans Welch

Love & Gelato

Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 2016

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Symbols & Motifs

Giambologna’s The Rape of the Sabine Women

Content Warning: This Symbols & Motifs section discusses rape in Roman mythology.

The Rape of the Sabine Women, an iconic statue in Florence’s much-visited Palazzo Vecchio, executed by the French-born sculptor Giambologna (1529-1608, born Jean de Bologne), symbolizes the devastating impact of passion without love. Hadley’s and Lina’s opposite perspectives on the piece when they visit the controversial statue 20 years apart reflect the novel’s emphasis on the value of love over passion alone.

The statue depicts three figures—a muscular man holding aloft a nearly naked woman, her face frozen in terror, while at his feet an older man crouches helpless—a scene from the legend of Rome’s founding. As described by Matteo to Hadley, the Roman soldiers, intent on establishing the new city, needed women to populate the new settlement, so “they invited . the Sabines . to a party, then, part way through the night overpowered the men and dragged all the women kicking and screaming back to their city” (168). The statue represents this terrifying moment of capture and reflects the pain of masculine domination and subjugation of women.

Hadley and Lina’s contrasting perspectives on the statue, 17 years apart, add to the novel’s discussion of The Difference Between Passion and Love and the ways in which passion, without love, can skew one’s perception of reality. For Hadley, The Rape of the Sabine Women initially represents romance. She writes in journal, “Tonight was the best night of my life, and I have a statue to thank for it” (168). At the foot of the statue, Matteo first tells Hadley he loves her (although notably Hadley thinks the line seemed rehearsed, as if he had said it often). Matteo assures her that eventually the kidnapped women came to love living in Rome, rewriting history to suit his own agenda and pre-empting any discomfort Hadley might feel about The Rape of the Sabine Women. Through Matteo’s lens, the statue takes on a romantic quality for Hadley: “I thought the woman [in the statue] looked like she was being lifted up not hurt” (168). By contrast, when Lina visits the same statue 17 years later, she recognizes it as an act of dominance and violation. Despite the way the statue’s powerful figures are interconnected, the reality of the woman’s oppression is clear to her, and Lina sees the irony in her mother’s story, thinking what a “weird spot” it is to declare love (219). Indeed, the statue is a warning to Hadley that she ignores as it undercuts Matteo’s declaration of love and exposes it for what it is, a crude and cruel power grab driven by lust.

Gelato

The motif of gelato provides Welch with her titular line in the novel—Sonia tells Lina, “You know, people come to Italy for all sorts of reasons, but when they stay, it's for the same two things…Love and gelato” (322). Ren introduces Lina to gelato, a luxuriously rich and creamy Italian ice cream. Lina has never heard of gelato, but one taste of the stracciatella, gelato spiked with chocolate shavings, and she is smitten, saying, “Italian gelato. Take the deliciousness of a regular ice-cream cone, times it by a million, then sprinkle it with crushed-up unicorn horns” (167). Lina’s hyperbole speaks to gelato’s symbolic importance in the novel—Lina’s introduction to the sense of magic and romance that creates the heightened mystique associated with Italy itself in popular culture.

During her summer in Florence, Lina is introduced to the region’s signature foods— its cheeses, meats, pizza, and pastries—but it’s the gelato that turns Lina into a true Italophile. For Lina, the love of gelato is associated with that night touring the city with Ren. When Howard later asks Lina about sampling gelato for the first time, he notes, “I thought you seemed different. Life-changing, right?” (186). He is speaking as much about the ice cream treat as he is about Lina’s experiences with Ren and the connection to her mother’s past romances. The gelato becomes part of the mystique of Lina’s own journey into love.

Gelato is an extravagance. Its composition—milk, rather than cream, and much more sugar than regular ice cream—makes it a luxury. As Lina finds out when she and Howard wait at the gelateria to order, residents of Florence are particularly upset when tourists call gelato “ice cream.” Gelato is special, different, even therapeutic. Lina observes, “Mountains of colorful gelato garnished with little bits of fruit or chocolate curls were piled high in metal dishes, and every single one of them looked like they had the ability to improve my day about nine hundred percent” (187). For Lina, Gelato suggests love itself—satisfying at the purely physical level but somehow transcending the physical to create a spiritual euphoria. In Welch’s novel, gelato is not just ice cream, it’s a transcendent experience from which, as Howard suggests, recovery is not possible. As Howard assures Lina, like a first love, you never forget your first gelato.

The Dress

Welch uses the motif of The Dress to connect the narratives of Hadley and Lina across time. When Hadley first learns that her academic appointment in Florence has been extended and that she can stay through the entire upcoming summer, she cannot wait to tell Matteo Rossi, certain that her lover will celebrate the news. Before she heads to Rome to surprise him, she decides she needs to shop for The Dress: “You know, the once-in-a-lifetime-dress guaranteed to make anyone fall in love with you” (229).

Hadley believes wearing The Dress will make what she assumes will be good news that much more amazing—an outward expression of the confidence and radiance she feels at the prospect of a summer with Matteo. However, before she can wear The Dress, Matteo breaks up with her, declaring that she is toxic to his creativity and revealing that what was between Hadley and Matteo was not love. No dress could not make it love. Seventeen years later, Lina decides she also needs to find The Dress before she heads to the party with Thomas where she hopes she will meet Ren, saying, “I really need to look amazing. I think [The Dress] is my best shot at winning Ren back. I need to find The Dress” (350). She needs to talk to Ren and repair the misunderstanding they had after their first kiss. She believes The Dress will “get his attention long enough for him to at least talk to [her], so [she] can tell him how [she] really feel[s] and try at least to salvage [their] friendship” (353), but ultimately, The Dress does not work as she hoped. The meeting with Ren goes all wrong, and the two part without reconciling. The premise of the novel is that love is grounded in reality, not artifice or appearance. It’s only later that night when Lina, crying alone in her room and wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms, reconciles with Ren at her bedroom window. As she heads out to meet Ren, she glances down at the floor where The Dress lies, “the world’s saddest heap” (377). The novel suggests that passion is fueled by the superficial (Thomas predictably compliments The Dress at the party), but love makes one feel seen and known just as they are, as Lina discovers in her t-shirt and pajama bottoms as she climbs out her window.

The dress connects the narratives of both Lina and her mother, symbolizing the longing for connection that both passion and love create. The Dress (and given the importance both women put on buying the right dress that it requires capitalization) confirms that love extends beyond the physical or superficial. It’s critical that Hadley never actually gets to wear The Dress—her longing is abruptly cut short by Matteo’s rejection—whereas Lina wears The Dress but finds she doesn’t need it.

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