Call this one a wasted opportunity. All the ingredients are there: the author’s difficult relationship with a polymath father who loves firearms, parental conflict, the mystery of her father’s apparently secret second life as an American spy during World War II and the de-Nazification period, unknown chapters of American espionage. The writing is journalese and the sentiment, like any sentiment that is poorly written, is … Continue reading My Father’s Secret War

Since brainpower does for me what the new 007’s pecs do for more normal women, an article in the Economist some time ago caught my eye (“The Brain Business,” October 12, 2006). It discussed a policy brief on the “use and abuse” of Europe’s brainpower published by a Brussels-based think tank called The Lisbon Council. Inspired by The Economist‘s report and its startling news about Italy, I … Continue reading The Human Factor

The sequel to at least two other books, this one finds author dashing about Umbria looking for the home of her dreams or up to her arms in flour or shopping in Florence. While the writing occasionally made this reviewer envious and while this reviewer happily, as an American woman, roots for the tough little lady who makes a life on her own terms and … Continue reading The Lady in the Palazzo: At Home in Umbria

It would be hard to imagine a better book on the subject than this one. The writing is orderly and correct, concise and colorful; rare enough for an Anglophone academic, miraculous for an Italian one. Astarita does both “traditional”— dates and battles — and “popular” history. He untangles dynasties and alliances (the Two Sicilies, Wars of the Spanish Succession anyone?) and illustrates popular music, theater, … Continue reading Between Salt Water and Holy Water: A History of Southern Italy

It must be clear — perhaps too clear — to readers of this column that I have a crusade about stereotypes in writing on Italy and Italians. So I was happy that one of the nicest things in life — a book recommendation from a reliable friend — also brought me an odd ally; Florentine writer Tommaso Landolfi. My friend was on a Landolfi binge, … Continue reading Landolfi’s Method

oday it rained. There was a transport strike. A car running a red light sprayed me. At school, parents terrified that their children might get wet, blocked traffic with Cayennes and BMW X5s parked three deep. A phone “disappeared” at rugby practice. Normally this magazine’s lead time does not permit me to vent about situations that will be old news by press time. But since … Continue reading My Favorite Things

I recently grumbled to a friend that in three weeks in the U.S. I had taken six flights and been “randomly” selected for extra searching four times. “Try six out of six,” was the rejoinder. A Muslim-sounding name and Indian roots trumped an Oshkosh upbringing and Princeton education, and tainted forever his definition of “random.” This sad fact of my friend’s life, whose implications must … Continue reading At Face Value

In both the United States and Italy, one of summer’s fixtures is the corny front-page photograph. America’s features children playing in a sprinkler — “Summer Heat Hits Anytown U.S.A.!” — or a man’s wrinkled face, complete with VFW hat and blurred stars and stripes in the background. Italy’s iconic summer photograph is of a topless showgirl (often satisfyingly chubbier in real life) or an aerial … Continue reading Happy New Year

For some reason, I missed the beginning of the football match-fixing scandal involving Torino team Juventus — Moggi-gate — now consuming Italy. This is a serious matter, because the story looks like it’s ready to join Ustica, P2, Piazza Fontana, the murder at Circeo, and the Mostro di Firenze among a slew of Italian scandalous affairs whose beginnings I missed. If what happened with those tales is … Continue reading Fixings

Last week my son came home from middle school fuming after he got a test back. He was not angry because of the disappointing grade; he already knew that he had not done his best that day. Anyhow, his grade was still the second highest in the class. The highest had gone to a girl who usually scraped by. But this time she had “gotten … Continue reading Accepting Rejection