I owe a debt to Stephen Sartarelli that I can never repay.
If I could go back in time to when my mind was still flexible enough to master a new language — say age 12 — and immerse myself in Italian, I might not owe him as much, and I could instead focus on what I owe Andrea Camilleri as a reader.
However, I found Camilleri only through publication of Sartarelli’s first translation (of The Shape of Water), when I was searching for more translations of Manuel Vazquez Montalbán’s books. My search revealed that Camilleri had named his detective as an homage to Montalbán, so I purchased the first Camilleri translation. I’ve since given The Shape of Water as a gift more than a dozen times.
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