Mount Etna Erupts
Plus biscuit wars, mosaics and fiction in translation
Is Italy on the edge of another nationwide lockdown? This, alas, is the question on many peoples’ lips as new Covid-19 mutations spread across the country. Cases are rising; albeit slowly for now. The RT rate, as of Wednesday, is at 0.95. More worryingly, though, 1 in 5 cases are now attributable to the so called ‘UK variant’ which, as the example of Britain itself has shown, is up to 70% more contagious than the original manifestations of this virus. Walter Ricciardi, an influential health advisor to the Italian government, is leading the call for new measures to be implemented, similar to those of spring 2020, in order to prevent a much-feared ‘third wave’. For now, though, the regional tiers remain. Tuscany has become an orange zone and there are a few red dots here and there, in Umbria and South Tyrol. Draghi, who gave his first speech as PM yesterday (and which the team at ‘The Local Italy’ neatly summarised here) has chosen to avoid commenting so far, presumably because he’s uneasy about intervening on such a potentially explosive issue during the first few days in power. Meanwhile, his technocratic advisors insist they are following the science. I have to say, though, I find it hard to believe the past few weeks of political chaos have not destabilised the overall national strategy at least to some degree…
In other news, on Tuesday evening Mount Etna erupted in a display that, according to those who study such things, was among the most dramatic of recent years. To be absolutely clear, there is no cause for alarm. Etna is one of the world’s most active volcanic sites, and the fact that it discharges fairy regularly actually reduces the risk of a mass casualty event. I remember circling the crater in an odd little train a few years ago and being mesmerised by the black earth, the strange plants, and, most of all, the air raid sirens which go off periodically to warn against random bursts of gas or small avalanches. A girl I spoke to on those slopes told me she hated the eruptions, not because they were frightening but because they altered the visual harmony of the peak as she remembered it from her childhood! I thought that was rather beautiful. Of course there are plenty of pictures circulating for those who, for whatever reason, might want to compare the silhouettes year on year. I have to say, though, I personally find the grainy smudges of red and black that the newspapers seem to get so excited by pretty tedious and repetitive. Instead, if you’re interested in Etna, I’d recommend this short 10 minute documentary which offers a little more background on some of the scientific and cultural issues that surround the volcano, as well as an interview with a rather phlegmatic man who runs a cafe right in the middle of one of the lava pathways.
There was a bit of a furore earlier this week when Mulino Bianco, the preeminent Italian producer of standard supermarket biscuits, introduced new healthier fare into their repertoire of baked goods. The latest options are two spirally swirls; one of them is made with almonds and lentil flour, the other with chickpeas, dark chocolate and orange. Granted, these might not be to everyone’s taste. Some people, though, have taken their objections a little far. A sub-section of Facebook users have been spewing out accusations that the company has “betrayed Italy”; that it has succumbed to “American imperialism” to “the vegans” and, of course, the “politically correct” agenda! After many years living here I still find it bizarre that something as trivial as a biscuit could trigger such a display of passionate ignorance (though it’s true, the British charcuterie lobby with their “Hard Brexit” salamis could give them a run for their money…) For more food nationalist melodrama, and to observe Italians across the political spectrum getting heated about everything from pineapple on pizza to carbonara with cream, this twitter account is also worth a scroll.
Art and culture: before and beyond Italy
Last winter, just before the Christmas lockdown, the Quadriennale d’Arte 2020 opened in Rome’s Palazzo delle Esposizioni. This event has a fraught history to put it mildly: it was established in the 1920s under Mussolini, and was a linchpin of the fascist state’s vision of art as pro-regime propaganda. More recently, the curators have been trying, with mixed success, to confront the legacies of racism, imperialism and jingoism that are such a part of the event’s history. Thankfully, this time, they seem to have made some real progress. According to the critic Mariacarla Molè the latest show is indeed a big step forward for the Quadriennale, but also for Italian art more generally. If you have any interest at all in what this country’s young cultural practitioners are up to I recommend reading her thoughts over at Art Review. You can also enjoy the virtual exhibit in full, which, I have to say, by the standards of these things, is fairly user-friendly. Based purely on the online materials, Irma Blank and Sylvano Bussotti’s installations would seem to be the standouts.
Last year, as many readers will know already, the archaeologist Judith Herrin published a wonderful history of Ravenna which featured at the top of many critics’ 2020 best-of lists. The book details that city’s evolution from 390-813, i.e. from its status as capital of the Western Roman Empire, to the time of Charlemagne. The narrative she has created is a powerful testimony to the cosmopolitanism of an epoch that we too often disregard, rather generically, as ‘dark ages.’ I’ve mentioned this book before, both because Judith is a friend and mentor, but also because this particular research has helped inform my own thinking and writing on the Arab conquest of Sicily (and the art they produced alongside the Normans). Anyway, earlier this week I was delighted to come across a particularly fine review of Ravenna, by Michael Kulikowski in the Times Literary Supplement. His erudite essay is worth reading in its own right, and it may well inspire you to pick up a copy.
I want to flag up two other old-ish books this week, both of which have just been commended as part of the John Florio Prize for translation. Jhumpa Lahiri’s English rendering of Domenico Starnone’s Trick (Europa Editions) was the overall winner. I must confess I haven’t read it in Italian or in English, but Tim Parks, who is notoriously hyper-critical of all translators, has praised Lahiri’s version, so it must be something. The second prize, which went to Jenny McPhee for her translation of Curzio Malaparte’s The Kremlin ball, looks even more interesting to me. Malaparte, who was born in 1898, is best known for his books, La Pelle (The Skin), an apocalyptic piece of gonzo-journalism set in post-war Naples, and Kaputt, which is a chilling satire of Nazism in Scandinavia. If you haven’t read either of these, I recommend you check them out first. If you have, I’m sure you’ll be equally excited to see this author’s work finally getting more recognition in the English speaking world.
Recipe: pasta with onions
I’ve been looking at my weather app a lot over the past few days as apparently this is going to be the last week of full-on winter here in Tuscany. Honestly, I’m quite relieved. To mark the imminent season-change I’ve decided to make a Venetian classic: pasta with onions. This really is a thrifty little dish and it couldn’t be easier. Take a large pile of onions, chop VERY finely into long strips (NOT cubes), slow cook in butter for about 40 minutes, adding a dash of stock, until they turn soft and golden though not quite to the level of, say, a French onion soup. Mix with parmesan, parsley and lots of pepper, then stir through any kind of long pasta and you’re done. This is not a technical or particularly precise dish, but Russell Norman’s version in The Guardian is a fine enough template. It also works well with a side of balsamic-roasted-radicchio, and maybe a glass of dry white wine, like a Soave/Sauvignon Blanc to cut through the fat. Generally, though, Venetians consider this a pretty lean meal, and traditionally they eat it around Lent, without the cheese, to inaugurate their annual fasting.
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About Me
My name is Jamie Mackay (@JacMackay) and I’m a writer, editor and translator based in Florence. I’ve been writing about Italy for a decade for international media including The Guardian, The Economist, Frieze, and Art Review. I launched ‘The Week in Italy’ to share a more direct and regular overview of the debates and dilemmas, innovations and crises that sometimes pass under the radar of our overcrowded news feeds.
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