From the very first few pages I knew I was going to enjoy Italian Days. Harrison is funny, witty, smart, and even a little sarcastic at times. She peppers her prose with interesting personal annectdotes about her connections to Italy. Sometimes it is about motherhood or her marriage. She comes alive when writing about her daughter Anna. Other times she talks of old lovers and new friends with such a sensuality there is an undertone of sexuality to her confessions, as if to say "I know I am beautiful. What of it?"
Harrison's observations about Italian people and places are spot on. She has a running commentary on everything from feminism in Milan to artificial insemination by an unknown donor. She enjoys movies and references them from time to time.
It is obvious Harrison has an appreciation for the words of others who have written so beautifully about Italy's charms. There are lots of quotes from Stendhal, Ruskin, George Eliot, D.H. Lawrence, and Henry James, but mostly Italian Days is a thoughtful blender concoction of cultural, spiritual, historical, and personal observations. Art, science, food, family, architecture, memories, religion, philosophy, and society swirl on every page. You'll pick up a little Italian in the process. My favorite phrase was "qui sono felice" or "Here I am happy." ( )

A literary travel book, memoir and art history. Beautifully written, thoughtful, integrated

I wanted to love this book, but could not read past the first 40 pages. I felt as though I were reading in ADD. The author's thoughts are jumpy at best, incohesive and divergent. I actually agreed with most of her perceptions of Milan, but the writing style was simply frustrating. Thinking this might be something found only at the start of the book, I jumped to the Florence section and found the same difficulties.

It was also disconcerting that her translations of Italian were incorrect (at least in the sections I read). Literal translations do not match the actual meaning of many words and phrases in Italian. Literal translations leave out the expression and emotion of the people and life of Italy. There are few books I haven't been able to read. Unfortunately this is one of them. ( )