The Neapolitan Quartet
The Neapolitan Quartet is a set of novels to which many Americans have been introduced through the HBO series, My Brilliant Friend. While the television series does an excellent job of capturing the essence of the books and is well worth the watching, there is nothing that can compare to actually reading Elana Ferrante’s words. I devoured these books, not hesitating in going immediately from one to the next, as if each book were merely chapters of one complete work, which they were. Ferrante has described them as “a single novel” published in four volumes due to length and duration. They are like the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, one story across multiple books.
Lampadusa, The Last Leopard
Anti-Italianism is Alive & Well
I was called a Guinea this week. I never had that happen before. I was also told that when the Nazis marched into Italy Hitler told them to not defecate (that was not the word he used) in the streets because he wanted to starve the Italians. That one was a real head-scratcher for me. Were Germans in the habit of doing something like that in the streets? I also wondered if the Germans ever really marched into Italy as they did in France or Poland. I thought the two countries were allies. I guess you shouldn’t expect a bigot’s comments to make any sense.
Does this country have room for the Italian-American?
A funny thing happened to me the other day at lunch while I was eating a cobb salad. I realized that it was a great example of the United States of America. When I made this observation to my son-in-law, Ryan, he said it is the old question of whether the United States was a melting pot or a salad.
So, you’re Italian-American. What’s the big deal?
Everyone should be proud of their cultural heritage, even if you aren’t Italian-American. After all, not everyone can be an Italian-American. I guess my bias is pretty obvious. Someone once asked me if I could choose to be anything other than Italian-American, what would I like to be. I was shocked by such a horrible thought. The Italian-American culture is the confluence of two of the greatest civilizations ever to have existed. I wouldn’t want to be anything other than what I am.
Carlo Levi, Author of “Christ Stopped at Eboli”
Where do you live? Some place rural where the air is clean and you know your neighbors? Maybe you are an urban dweller, attracted to the excitement and diversity of a big city. Now, imagine all of that taken away. Imagine, someone from the government forcibly taking you to an unfamiliar place, far away from the place you live and the people you know.
Nothing Against St. Patrick, but I’m Italian, give me The Feast of St. Joseph
Let me start by saying that I have no animosity towards the Irish. Even though my first wife was Irish, I hold no grudge against all of those from the Emerald Isle. I even think that Lucky Charms are magically delicious. However, I am not Irish even on St. Patrick’s Day.
Marco Polo Introduced the Chinese to Chop Sticks
Years ago, I had an acquaintance who was from China. He insisted that the Chinese invented spaghetti. He believed in the myth that Macro Polo introduced Italians to it when he returned from his travels. It did not matter what I told him; he was told this all his life. So, as far he was concerned, it was the absolute truth. Remembering the adage attributed to Mark Twain, it’s easier to fool people than to convince them that they have been fooled, I gave up. Instead I told him that most people don’t know that Marco Polo introduced the Chinese to chopsticks.
If Italian-Americans aren’t Italian, what are they?
When I was a kid growing up in an Italian neighborhood in New York, we used to say there were two kinds of people in the world; Italians and those that wanted to be. When my daughters were just children, I told them they were very lucky little girls; not everyone gets to be Italian. Then I made my first trip to Italy. I started developing acquaintances with people born and raised in Italy, Italian Italians, not Italian-Americans. I was shocked by what I had learned. My daughters and I were not lucky. We were members of the second group, those that wanted to be. We weren’t Italian!
Are Italian-Americans Italian? Redux
I hate to admit being wrong, to publicly change my opinion, especially when that opinion is dear to me. I guess I could just cite the adage; to admit that you were wrong is to declare that you are wiser now than you were before. Maybe I should have started this post by telling you how much more wise I now am than I was in the past. See how I turned that around?
Is Fettuccini Alfredo a Traditional Italian Dish?
It is amazing to me, a guy who grew up in an Italian-American community in upstate New York, how much I learned about being Italian when I left that community to live among the medighans of Los Angeles. I didn’t realize that real Italians went around saying for-ged-aboud-it and we didn’t call it sauce, but gravy, a debate to be addressed in another post.
An Italian-American Christmas
Several years back, an evangelical Christian co-worker was complaining about the secularization of Christmas. “Jesus is the reason for the season,” he declared, literally raising his arm, pointing to the heavens above. “What does Christmas mean to you? Is it a holiday or an holyday?” he asked, almost daring me to answer incorrectly, or at least what he thought was incorrect.
Are Italian-Americans Italian?
Are Italian-Americans Italian? People keep telling me we aren’t. When I say I am Italian, Italian-Italians, those born in Italy, look at me with suspicion and scoff. American Uber-patriots chide me, telling me that I am American. In their minds, to associate myself the culture of my forbears is close to treason. With so many people telling me that I am not Italian, I cannot help but wonder if Italian-Americans are Italian.
Mario Puzo
One of the many benefits of traveling to Italy, especially to Italian-Americans, is that you experience firsthand the differences between Italian and Italian-American culture. For me, some of these differences were quite surprising. One of the most memorable revelations was the reaction some Italian friends had not only to The Godfather but also to Mario Puzo.