frumiousb

The distance between government and its people and the them-and-us mentality it breeds, is central to any understanding of Italy. Everyone feels so badly treated, everything is so legalistic, that people feel justified in being a little lawless.
pg. 17

As mentioned before, this book was suggested by the excellent rhythmaning as a good read after our trip to Sicily this last year. It also came highly recommended by several Italian friends of mine here in the Netherlands. "Although," one of them remarked, "you could summarize the book neatly by saying that Jones hates Berlusconi."

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

She thought about it. "I hate him too, but it would be nice sometime to try to see an explanation about why people vote for him that doesn't make all Italians sound like idiots."

She may have a point. In any case, this book is quite critical of the Italian then and now Prime Minister, and that criticism informs a great deal of the text.

What I like best about The Dark Heart of Italy is that it doesn't spend its time waxing poetic about the history of art or the food. Jones combines short chapters about various episodes in Italian political and public life to build his larger arguments about modern Italy as a whole. The subjects range widely: from football to Padre Pio, he sketches scenes of dissent and corruption that stretch through the country.

It isn't a perfect book. I wasn't happy at all with the way that he (the editors?) used italics to switch between his previously published material (parts of the book initially appeared in The London Review of Books and Prospect and the text that was created for the book. Perhaps I'm misunderstanding completely what the italics were for, but I found it quite distracting and really very strange.

Still, I'd recommend the book pretty highly. It should be a particularly nice counterpoint to all the Italian travel books out there that wax poetic about the Tuscan sun and the history of pasta. I had many moments of amused recognition (particularly as he discusses traffic and Palermo) and it also helped me explain a lot what I see on my vacations in Italy.

( notes )

I have not been the most active Salon participant in the last few weeks-- life has contrived to strip time and interest for reading away from me. But this Sunday I intend to correct that-- a good day for reading this morning.

I'm currently reading The Dark Heart of Italy, by Tobias Jones. (This was a recommendation from rhythmaning, so thank you for that.) We've done a reasonable amount of travel in Italy during the last year, so this is a pretty fascinating book to read. For a change, it doesn't focus on food and churches. Jones so far has looked at language, politics and football. It makes for a welcome difference. As I was reading last night, I kept annoying B. by telling him interesting anecdotes that I picked up from the book-- always a good sign.

As I sit here and read this morning, I have a big fat cat on my lap. The other cat has spent this morning pulling at a piece of loose flooring which she has decided makes a good toy. B. is still asleep-- got in at 3:00am after going out with an old friend visiting from NY.

It's going to be a nice lazy reading Sunday. Hope that you all are enjoying the same.

Subtitle: Travels through the Hidden Villages of Sicily.

I picked this book up while traveling in Sicily.

I enjoyed reading this once back. I was close to many of these locations, and even if I didn't see the specific village or area mentioned, it was familiar enough for me to enjoy the descriptions. The book brought back a lot of impressions of the island, both good and bad. Maggio has a keen eye for capturing the moment of travel, and I enjoyed her anecdotes. I was particularly taken with how she sketched people and personality.

Unfortunately, I did not find her quite as skilled in terms of structure. Particularly towards the end I found that the chapters failed to flow well. The timelines seemed confused and at one point it seemed to me that we were being introduced to the same character for a second time (the American contortionist). It made it distracting, and was too bad for the reading experience.

I would recommend it as a light and quiet read, particularly if you enjoy travel essays or have Sicilian roots yourself. Good, but not brilliant.

27 April 2008

We got an SMS in the morning that our friends’ baby had indeed been born still—a little girl. (I have posted here and elsewhere about how her water had broken at 23 weeks.) Even having been through it, it’s still so hard to know what to do or say. We congratulated them, first of all, on their daughter. We wished them strength in dealing with their loss. I sent them flowers-- *not* white flowers, hyacinths. This may be all wrong for them. But I remember how much I valued people congratulating me too—treating her like a baby, and not just a lost dream. And I remembered that I got really sick of white flowers. Our house looked like a funeral home at a certain moment.

Anyhow. It took us a while to get up and around after that.

( read more-- many pictures )

breakfast room at hotel in Siracusa

26 April 2008

I love many things Italian. I love the food, I like much about the culture. However, they should take the car keys away from every single person in this country and not let them have them again until they satisfy a German driving instructor.

We left Agrigento early this morning. Our original intention was to stop in Noto and then head north again to Siracusa. But the problem was that the traffic was continual and insane along all even semi-major roads. Saturday morning is market day, apparently. It was charming at first, but after our fourth near-death experience because someone decided to back up into traffic without looking or signaling, we both felt a little green around the gills.

By the time that we got to Noto, it was lunch and we hit *another* traffic jam on our way into town. At that point we gave up, pulled out of the line and took off for Siracusa directly. I wish that I could say that the landscape was lovely, but it was actually odd. I’ve never seen so many stone fences in my life. It was as though someone started off terracing and just didn’t know where to stop. Pointless and continual stone fences ran every which direction. I have no idea why or what possible function they could possibly serve in such quantity and without any apparent order.

Anyhow, we made it to Syracuse, and our luxury hotel. We’re staying at the Hotel des Etrangers et Miramare. Much too posh for us. But Expedia had deep deep discounts and decided to choose it because of the location in Ortigia. If you look, you may be able to find the cheap prices here yourself. You will certainly, like us, be stuck in the smallest room overlooking the central ventilation system—but you’ve still got the mosaic tile work, the private beach area, and the obsequious reception staff. Pretend it’s the high life for a day or two, you know.

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I found this written on a wall in Siracusa, April 2008. I don't speak Italian, so this translation is done with the help of my poor French, Babelfish and some judicious guesses. Corrections gratefully received and credited.

Grateful thanks to mewtopia, who came to my rescue with the translation.

Translation/Transcription:

!Smile!
10/14/06

Arianna

my life without you would be lost.
you're the only friend who is perfect for me.
Even if we fight, these experiences teach me a lot.
I care for you.
Joy & My Life
Rob Ary
See you.

( the image )

San’Angelo Moxori

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