Review: Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes
- Laura Wakefield

- 6 days ago
- 2 min read
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Under the Tuscan Sun is a warm, sensory-rich memoir that celebrates the pleasures of slowing down, renovating a crumbling home, and building a life rooted in place. Written by poet and travel writer Frances Mayes, the book follows her experience purchasing and restoring an old villa in the Tuscan countryside, blending travel writing, memoir, and reflections on food, landscape, and belonging.
Essentially, the book is about transformation—of both place and self. Mayes describes the process of restoring Bramasole, her hillside home, in vivid detail: peeling plaster, overgrown gardens, hidden architecture, and the slow uncovering of the house’s original character. These physical renovations mirror her own emotional and personal renewal, as she adapts to a new country, language, and way of life.
One of the book’s greatest strengths is its immersive, sensory writing. Mayes has a poet’s eye for detail, and her descriptions of Tuscany are lush and evocative. Sunlit stone walls, cypress-lined roads, bustling markets, and leisurely meals come alive on the page. Food, in particular, plays a central role—simple dishes made with fresh local ingredients become moments of connection and celebration, reinforcing the book’s theme that pleasure often lies in simplicity.
The narrative is less structured than a traditional memoir and instead unfolds as a series of reflective vignettes. These moments capture daily life in Italy: encounters with neighbors, seasonal changes in the landscape, and the evolving rhythms of settling into a new culture. This loose structure enhances the book’s relaxed, meandering tone, making it feel like a long, leisurely afternoon rather than a tightly plotted story.
A major theme throughout is the idea of creating a life that feels fully inhabited. Mayes explores what it means to belong somewhere—not just physically, but emotionally. Her journey is not simply about living in Italy, but about learning to slow down enough to appreciate it. This sense of presence and attentiveness is what gives the memoir its emotional depth.
That said, the book is not without its critiques. Some readers may find the pacing slow, as it often lingers on description rather than action. Others may feel that its perspective is somewhat idealized, presenting Tuscany through a romantic lens that occasionally glosses over practical or cultural complexities. The narrative is deeply personal, but also distinctly filtered through a privileged experience of relocation and restoration.
Even so, Under the Tuscan Sun remains beloved for its atmosphere and mood. It invites readers into a world where time feels more expansive, where everyday details become meaningful, and where beauty is found in both landscapes and lived experience.
This beautiful memoir leaves a lingering impression of warmth, sunlight, and quiet transformation. It suggests that home is not just a place you inherit or arrive at—it is something you slowly create, shape, and learn to inhabit with care and attention.





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