Music Welcome to Snoozecast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us on snoozecast.com and follow us on Instagram at snoozecast to find behind the scenes content. If you enjoy our show, please write a review on the Apple Podcasts app. Please know that we read and appreciate everyone, and it helps our show get found by new listeners. Here's a recent review we loved. The subject line is, love falling asleep to incredible authors. It goes, wonderful resource for those of us who struggle to sleep, excellent pace, voice and content. Love that there are many incredible female authors featured. I hope to keep hearing the continuation of Pride and Prejudice a true favorite. Thank you to whoever wrote this review. It made us smile to read it. And yes, we do plan on continuing with Pride and Precious. This episode is brought to you by our Patreon supporters and by Kindly Wood Carvers. Tonight we'll read the opening to the Adventures of Pinocchio by Italian writer Carlo Colodi, published in 1883. Pinocchio was carved by a wood carver named Chepetto as a wooden puppet, but he dreams of becoming a real boy. He is notably characterized for his frequent tendency to lie, which causes his nose to grow. Pinocchio is a cultural icon. He is one of the most reimagined characters in children's literature. His story has been adapted into many other media, notably the 1940 Disney film Pinocchio. Calodi often used the Italian Tuscan dialect in his book. For example, the name of Pinocchio's father, Gepetto, comes from the diminutive or Jepo,

the Tuscan pronunciation of Jepo,

meaning long, stump, or long.

Let's get cozy.

Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. Centuries ago, there lived a king. My readers will say immediately, no, you are mistaken. Once upon a time, there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood, far from it, just a common block of firewood. of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm. I do not know how this really happened, yet the fact remains that one fine day, this piece of wood, found itself in the shop of an old carpenter. His real name was Mr. Antonio, but everyone called him Mr. Cherry, for The tip of his nose was so round and red and shiny that it looked just like a ripe cherry. As soon as he saw that piece of wood, Mr. Cherry was filled with joy. Rubbing his hands together happily, he mumbled half to himself. This has come in the nick of time.

I shall use it to make the leg of a table. He started to peel off the bark and and shape the wood as a wood carver does.

But as he stood, working away,

he heard a little voice say, Please be careful, I'm sensitive. What a look of surprise shown on Mr. Cherry's face. His funny face became still funnier. He turned his eyes about the room to find out where that wee little voice had come from, and he saw no one. He looked under the bench. No one. He peeped inside the closet. No one. He searched among the wood chavings. No one. He opened the door to look up and down the street, and still no one.

Oh, I see!" he then said, laughing and scratching his wig. It can easily be seen that I only thought I heard the tiny voice say the words, It's well, well, to work once more. He struck a most solemn blow upon the piece of wood. Hey, watch it! Write the same far away little voice. Mr. Cherry grew dumb. His eyes popped out of his head. His mouth opened wide, and his tongue hung down on his chin. As soon as he regained the use of his senses, he said, Stuttering? Where did that voice come from?

When there's no one around, might it be that this piece of wood has learned to weave and cry like a child? I can hardly believe it. Here it is a common piece of firewood Good only to burn in the stove the same as any other yet might someone be hidden in it? If so the worst for him With these words he picked up the log with both hands and started to inspect it carefully, and then began to shake it. He listened for the tiny voice. He waited two minutes, nothing. Five minutes, nothing. Ten minutes, nothing. Oh, I see, he said, trying briefly to laugh and ruffling up his wig with his hand, that can easily be seen, I only imagined I heard the tiny voice, well well, to work once more. The poor fellow tried to sing a happy song in order to gain courage. He picked up the plane to make the wood smooth and even, but as he drew it to and fro, he heard the same tiny voice. This time it giggled as it spoke. Stop it, hey stop it, you're tickling me. This time poor Mr. Cherry fell, dumbfounded. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting on the floor.

His face had changed, even the tip of his nose from red to deepest purple. In that very instant, a loud knock sounded on the door. come in, said the carpenter, not having an atom of strength left with which to stand up. At the words, the door opened and a dapper little old man came in. His name was Chepeto, but to the boys of the neighborhood he was Polenta. On account of the wig he always wore, which was just the color of yellow corn pudding, known as a Polenta in Italian. Now, Chepetto had a very bad temper, woe to the one who called him polenta. He became as wild as a beast, and no one could soothe him. Good day, Mr. Antonio said Chepetto. What are you doing on the floor? I'm teaching the ants their ABCs. Oh, good luck to you. What brought you here, my friend, Chappato? My legs, and it may flatter you to know, Mr. Antonio, that I have come to you to beg for a favor. Here I am at your service, answered the carpenter, raising himself on to his knees. This morning a fine idea came to me. Let's hear it. I thought of making myself a beautiful wooden marionette. It must be wonderful, one that will be able to dance, fence, and turn summer salts. it, I intend to go around the world to earn my crust of bread and cup of wine. But do you think of it? Bravo, Polenta! cried the same tiny voice which came from no one knew where. On hearing himself called Polenta, Mr. Jepetto turned the color of a red pepper and, the carpenter said to him, Why do you insult me? Who is insulting you? You called me Polenta. I did not. I suppose you think I did, yet I know it was you. No. Yes. No. Yes. And growing angrier each moment,

they went from words to blows and finally began to wrestle each other. When the fight was over, Mr. Antonio had Chappettos yellow wig in his hands, and Chappettos found the carpenter's curly wig in his mouth. Give me back my wig, shouted Mr. Antonio in a surly voice. You return mine and we'll be friends. The two little old men each with his own wig back on his own head, shook hands and swore to be good friends for the rest of their lives. Well then, Mr. Jopado said the carpenter to show he bore him no ill will.

What is it that you want? I want a piece of wood to make a marionette. Will you give it to me? Mr. Antonio, very glad indeed, went immediately to his bench to get the piece of wood which had caused him so much concern. But as he was about to give it to his friend with a jerk, it slipped out of his hands and knocked against poor japettos, thin legs. How is this the gentle way, Mr. Antonio, and which you make your gifts to hurl them at my shins? I might need to go to the hospital after this. I swear to you I did not do it. It was I of course. It's the fault of this piece of wood. You're right, but remember you were the one to throw it at my legs. I did not throw it. Liar. Jepetto do not insult me, or I shall call you Polenta. On hearing himself called Polenta, Jepetto lost his head and threw himself upon the carpenter. Then in there they gave each other a sound thrashing. After this fight, Mr. Antonio had two more scratches on his nose and Jaepetto had two buttons missing from his coat.

Thus, having settled their accounts, they shook hands and swore once more to be good friends for the rest of their lives. Then, Jepetto took the fine piece of wood,

thanked Mr. Antonio,

and... Then, Jepetto took the fine piece of wood, thanked Mr. Antonio, and limped away toward home. Tiny as Jepetto's house was, it was neat and comfortable. It was a small room on the ground floor with a tiny window under

the stairway. The furniture could not have been much simpler, a very old chair, a a rickety old bed and a tumble down table.

A fireplace full of burning logs was painted on the wall opposite the door. Over the fire there was painted a pot of something which kept boiling happily away and sending up clouds of what looked like real steam. As soon as he reached home, Jepetto took his tools and began to cut and shape the wood into a marionette. What shall I call him? He said to himself.

I think I'll call him Pinocchio. This name will make his fortune. I knew a whole family of Pinocchio once. Pinocchio the father, Pinocchio the mother, and Pinocchio the children, and they were all lucky, the richest of them begged for his living. After choosing the name for his marionette, Chappello set seriously to work, to make the hair, the forehead, the eyes. Fancy his surprise when he noticed that these eyes moved and then stared fixably at him. Jepetto, seeing this, felt insulted and said in a grieved tone, hey, wooden eyes, why do you seem so real? There was no answer. After the eyes, Tepato made the nose, which began to stretch as soon as finished. It stretched and stretched and stretched till it became so long it seemed endless endless. Poor Japado kept trimming it and trimming it. But the more he trimmed, the longer grew that impertinent nose. In despair, he let it alone.

Next, he made the mouth.

No sooner was it finished than it began to smile and laugh. Stop laughing, said Chappetto, but he might as well have spoken to the wall.

Stop laughing I say. He roared in a voice of thunder. The mouth stopped laughing, but only to make a face and stick out a tongue instead.

...