Constantino, Mario, and Gambella, Lawrence. The Italian Way
. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1996.
This is a cultural introduction to Italy that was well worth the read for me, launching an extended stay.
Sobel, Dava. Galileo's Daughter
. London: Fourth Estate Limited, 1999.
I read Latitude years ago and came to
appreciate Sobel's style even then. What a great book! I have now had
the pleasure of seeing Galileo's Gioiello on the (former) outskirts of
Florence. All the better for having read this wonderful account of the
epoch, its culture, and the father of modern science.
Hibbert, Christopher. Rome: The Biography of a City.
London: Viking, 1985.
Now THAT'S a tour. It's hard to compress more than 2500 years of history into a single volume, let alone the history of the caput mundi.
But what a book! The author sometimes has to dispense with several
popes in a paragraph to keep within the covers, but he zooms in
frequently to create a vivid timeline that has helped me to understand
the city and especially Romans.
Nicholl, Charles. Leonardo Da Vinci: The Flights of the Mind.
Penguin Books, 2004.
A little heavy, sometimes pedantic, but
evenly thorough. It is clear that the author is passionate about the
subject: Through Nicholl's writing, his strenuous effort to bring
himself, and the lucky reader, closer to Da Vinci and the context of
Preston, Richard. First Light.
Random House, 1987.
This was a jump away from The
Peninsula, this delightful account of the observatory at Palomar and
the people who make it the far-seeing (and ever more far-seeing,
despite it's relatively advanced age as optics go) instrument that it
is. It is a reminder of how cool, how fun, how exilerating hacking
around with technology can be! And what marvellous portraits of the
passionate and interesting scientists it paints.
Harr, Johnathan. The Lost Painting: The Quest for a Caravaggio Masterpiece.
Random House, 2005.
Caravaggio was kinda cool. A painter who revolutionized his art and got
in knife fights, that sort of thing. It's a rotten shame that when he
finally was pardoned by the Pope and allowed to turn to Rome... he died
of malaria on the way.
Kurlansky, Mark. Salt: A World History.
It's a fascintating book, but this guy
needed better editing to organize it. It does not hang together as it
might, given the compelling and consistent themes it describes. It was
a great read, though, for here in Rome, not just because the Roman
Empire gets its due from the author, but also because it is a book about
durable, even inviolable rules of human and societal behavior - and Rome
is nothing if not a mirror of these.
Moore, Peter. Vroom With A View.
Some light reading for a cold visit to
Lucca. By chance, the very B&B at which we stayed was
also Peter Moore's (along with his girlfriend) on his exciting
scooter-borne journey. He did a nice job, I think, of capturing and
reflecting some of the complexity of Italian hospitality and
culture, especially it's good parts, all from near by, or right
on, the seat of the venerable, iconic, and beautiful Vespa scooter.
The fact that I had to emply similar legal but complicated means
to be an vehicle owner here in Italy resonates with me still.
Robb, Peter. Midnight in Sicily.
Vintage Books, 1999.
I have been to Naples, and we are
planning to go to Sicily. Robb's book makes them seem familiar and
mysterious at the same time. He's a veteran writer whose creative
non-fiction is mostly beautiful and moving. In this book more than the
others, the idea of a second, less-seen and far more complicated Italy
Hawes, Annie. Extra Virgin.
Harper Paperbacks, 2002.
It is intersting to me that this funny
and light-hearted (compared to the last book, anyway) story of a
woman and her sister who become property owners in a relatively remote
corner of Italy should do so much to help the crystallization of my
ideas of a less-seen second Italy. She's a brillant raconteur and an
astute observer of character.
Edmundson, Mark. Teacher. The One Who Made A Difference.
Vintage Books, 2002.
This was a book I was supposed to have
read before coming back to school last fall. I had the luxury of
putting it off, and the good luck (good sense? not likely) to have
finally picked it up. I liked it for many, many reasons, including that
I grew up near Boston and I liked the rich picture it painted of the
time and place. Best of all, it presented a picture of a modern
warrior-poet, a testosterone-driven teen-aged male who was also a
bright and curious participant in his own education. The
scholar-athlete, the philosopher king, the poet who understands
savagery is everywhere in classical literature, and harder to find in
Ripe for the Picking.
Gardners Books, 2003.
Second in the series. It continues the
story brilliantly. Her descriptions of trying, with every bit of energy
and wit she has, to understand the subtle (or missing) cues in social
and business interactions in her adopted home in Lighuria, are worth
reading for anyone out of his or her element, from a new country to a
new job, it's relevant.
Brown, Dan. Angels and Demons.
Pocket Stars, 2001.
Fast-food for the brain. What a book! I have more thoughts about it in this essay
I've been meaning to read this for
years - my father couldn't say enough about it. A story about a
500-year-old construction project that is anything but dry... not only
because the subject is fascinating (or subjects,
because Brunelleschi, the church, Savonarola, the Medici, and so
forth... they all figure) but also becuase the author is a good story
White, Michael. Machiavelli: A Man Misunderstood.
I don't think he was all that
minsunderstood, after all, but the point that Machiavelli wasn't
entirely machiavellian way is well expressed. But Machiavelli
certainly admired Cesare Borgia, Alexander VI's psychotic and brilliant
warrior son, and, as a pragmatist of the first order, he also saw the
effectiveness of the murderous Duke Valentino. Machiavelli also
happened to be better known for his poems and satirical plays than his
statecraft during his lifetime... not quite so machiavellian, there.
Machiavelli knew Popes, Medicis, Leonardo da Vinci, Michaelangelo (whom
he hired to run errands when the artist was young), the King of France,
Savonarola, and on and on... it's another axis along which to approach
the miraculous Italian Renaissance. The towering and iconic Niccolo'
Machiavelli is worth a read, and this author is worth reading.
Hawes, Annie. Journey to the South.
Gardners Books, 2005.
Third in the series. It continues
brilliantly, and, as the name implies, has somehting to teach about
Calabria, the "toe of the boot." Her astute observations and
story-telling skills are as delightful as they are (further) edifying
on the subject of the "other half" of Italy, the half that had a
history almost separate from the north. She is the coolest.
Barzini, Luigi. The Italians.
Penguin Books, 1968.
This book is as applicable in
understanding Berlusconi's attempts to remain in power right now, even
though it was published in 1964. This is the first author I have read
who puts a start date on the beginning of an Italian inferiority
complex: the Battle of Fornovo, 1495
Follain, John. Mussolini's Island.
Hodder and Stoughton, 2005.
I picked up this book because we were
headed to Sicily. I knew that Hitler's "Fortress Europe" was first
prised open by the Allies here in Sicily, and I wanted to know more.
What a thing. What a brutal, ugly thing. Most details are horrifying, depressing, or both. A
few are fascinating. (Operation Mincemeat falls under the "fascinating"
heading: it's the story of The Man Who Never Was, a corpse dressed in a
Royal Marines uniform and carrying a briefcase full of disinformation
dropped in the Atlantic from a submarine near Andalucia in SW Spain with a life-jacket
and an overturned dinghy. It was disinformation which Hitler believed, though
Mussolini did not, that the Allied invasion would come as a double kick
at Corsica and Greece with a feint at Sicily.)
It would be the largest invasion in history until Normandy a year
later, and it cost dearly, and didn't buy the Allies much. 60,000
Germans and their erstwhile Italian allies made 450,000 British and
Americans work for nearly a month to
get acrosss the island to the toe of the boot of Italy, and made the
march up the
peninsula no less easy. It is worth noting that the Italians fought
hard when the Allies first landed, but by the end of the month,
Mussolini was a prisoner and Italy had given up the war. (What a
pickle: Nazis at your back, letting you take the shots, and the Allies
coming up the road...)
And the collaboration with the likes of Lucky Luciano and his American
confederates and the locals of similar stripe on the island made for
the post-war recovery of an organized crime dynasty and facilitated
their international collaboration. (Note, though, that in Barzini's
book, I learned that the Sicilians swindled Luciano out of a small
fortune while sharing all sorts of back-slapping comeraderie. They take care of themselves.)
King, Ross. Michaelangelo and the Pope's Ceiling.
The same lively narrative that
characterized Brunelleschi's Dome
is at work in this precursor. As much
about the second Rovere pope, the warrior Julius II (nephew to the first Rovere
pope, Sixtus IV, and successor to Alexander VI, who was Rodrigo Borgia, Lucrezia and Cesare's father), this is
another fascinating tour of the explosively ruch decades before and
after 1500. From Alfonso d'Este (Duke of Ferarra, husband of Lucrezia
Borgia, and a tactical wizard with the now-evolved cannon who gave
Venice's sea power, and thus Venice, the twilight of her power) to the
Spanish "warm-up" atrocities against soldier and civilian alike at
Prato (the Sack of Rome, 1527, was the logical successor) to the
artistic explosion itself, on the heels of Leonardo and with Raphael a
few rooms away at the Vatican... what an epoch. Now I guess I have to
go back to the Sistine Chapel to look at what I know more about. It's
one of those things, isn't it... the observed won't have changed, but
the observer has. You can't step in the same river twice.
Just back from Sicily, I can't help but have in mind that the carnage
at the 1512 Battle of Ravenna
between the Holy League's Spaniards and the
French previews the kind of indiscriminant and horrific death as the
island would witness in 1943. Warfare, by and large a sort of
gentlemanly game until that critical period, would never be the same.
Moulthrop, Daniel; Calegari, Ninive Clements; Eggers, Dave. Teachers Have It Easy: The Big Sacrifices and Small Salaries of America's Teachers.
The New Press, 2005.
"Teachers don't get paid enough." Bang, done. End of story. But is it?
These guys wrote a great book that thoroughly and heartbreakingly
describes this nation's sorry state of support for public school
educators. They also visit the forces that keep it this way, and
explore the vicious-cycle consequences of this state. It's a great
book, and it makes obvious something that most of us know already.
Passionate, level-headed, well-supported and compelling: a good read.
I think of this as a tight module that goes a long way in describing
where to turn your attention first when you finally decide that you
want to improve public education. The catch is this: "we," Americans,
haven't decided that we want to improve public education. From the
cynical end, who benefit from the existence of unskilled, manipulable
masses, to the timid, who can't imagine taking on such a problem, to
the complacent, who vote down tax increases proposed specifically and
only for schools just becuase they don't have school-aged children, the
logical step before going after the problem hasn't been made.
The authors make a pointed, however brief, analysis of the social and
economic costs of the current state of affairs and the vast benefits
that would come from improving the situation. Perhaps these able
authors can be convinced to write the "prequel..." convincing us that
weak public education is costly and dangerous for us all. ("Think
education is expensive? Try ignoriance!" the bumpersticker says.)
H. Paul. Freemasons: Inside the World's Oldest Secret Society.
Citadel Press, 2005.
Ever since I saw the Simpsons episode
with the Stonecutters (featuring the voice of Patrick Stewart...
Stuart?), I just knew the Masons ran the world! Simpsons writers can be
trusted implicitly, after all.
Seriously, though, this is a book of modest claims and thorough
research. Jeffers is an academic, and it shows. This is a guy who
could never write for the Enquirer: He's far too respectful of the
truth, and far too hesitant to draw conclusions based on scant evidence.
What this book is: a seemingly comprehensive survey of facts about The
Freemasons and their history. Jeffers takes up some of the sensational
chapters in their history, like conspiracy theories around Jack the
Ripper's murder spree (spoiler: no scandalous connection to the Masons)
and darker epochs, like their villification by the Nazis. And Jeffers,
himself not a Mason, did a great job of collecting information about
rites and other secrets of the secret society.
What this book is not: an expose' of the upper eschelons of The
Freemasons, showing their involvement with anything and everything.
Jeffers did a superb job of cataloging the mundane, but he didn't
(because, it seems to me, he couldn't, with reason) describe the truly
arcane parts of the business.
From this book, I am left feeling happily better informed, and
satisfied that it is more likely kind of neat that so many important
figures in history were Masons, rather the fact that so many important
figures in history were Masons is evidence of some kind of global and
Hey! Maybe that's just what they want me to think!
Duncan, David Ewing. The Calendar.
Fourth Estate, 1998.
Like Rome: Biography of a City
(see above), this book is one of these great historical sweeps with a
worthy backbone of a theme. There's a second resemblance, too: the
author is welcomingly comfortable with his subject.
I loved this book. Lots of detail. Lots! I can imagine another reader
complaining that there are parts too like laundry-lists to be
enjoyable, or data too arcane to have been included. I, however, found
immersion in the 333 pages of breadth and depth like a refreshing soak.
The author "is a writer and traveller... documentary film
producer, and special correspondent and producer for ABC News."
Characteristics of all these show in his prose. And this book has it
all: history of religion, culture, medicine, astronomy, mathematics;
biographical sketches of influential individuals; myth-busting
story-behind-the-story detail; fascinating parentheticals and footnotes.
Another reason I enjoyed this book is the "review" dimension. Duncan
doesn't limit himself to Western History, but it is mostly a
recapiluation of Western History, and I am delighted to give it all
another once-over, refreshed, as it is, by this particular theme of
hamnkind's pursuit of precision and understanding in the
measurement of time.
Severgnini, Beppe. Ciao, America! An Italian Discovers the U.S.
R.C.S. Libri & Grandi Opere, 2001.
What a great book! Not only is it fun
from the point of view that it's an Italian talking about America (a
switch from my diet this year of non-Italians parsing the culture of
Italy), but for two other reasons as well.
First, it is (except for the epilogue) about an Italian's American
experience in 1995, and it's fun to revisit the zeitgeist of ten years
past in general. (Seems like it should be longer back to then!) Even
better, though, is the fact that I know Italian culture well enough now
to enjoy the layering of perspective in this book. Knowing America as I
do, it is even more of an education about Italy to know what
Severgnini, as an Italian, finds perverse, amusing, respectable,
frustrating, or appealing about my country and culture.
He's also a good writer, and must have had a good translator, too. (The
book was in
print in Italy for six years before it was translated and published in
English.) Severgnini makes wonderful observations, has a good knack for
selecting examples, and enlivens his text with his gentle and generous
sense of humor. His prior experience with the UK and British English
(he has a few books on these subjects) make his perspective all the
more discriminating. As Tom Magliozzi would say, "you really want to
have a cup of coffee with this guy."