Beppe Severgnini

Brilliant, insightful, hilarious. Based on 10 1 themes Severgnini explains why so many Italians love, like or at least tolerate Berlusconi. He definitely succeeds in clarifying this apparent mystery which is for a large part due to the Italian character and for another part due to the rise of populism as in all other countries. Berlusconi is portrayed as the master salesman of one product: himself. In line the theme of the book hardly any attention is devoted to B.'s dark side: he craves for show more love and admiration and for those who betray him he has no mercy. Frank Underwood in real life. show less

Difficile farsi un'opinione su questo testo. Da una parte Severgnini abborda degli argomenti molto validi e sui quali vale la pena riflettere, dall'altra però resta sempre molto vago nelle sue spiegazioni e nei suoi consigli, quindi alla fine la sensazione generale è che non si sa bene cosa può restare di questo testo.
Come "cibo per la mente" può andare bene, come salvagente è un po' poco...

Very funny -- fortunately I was alone when reading it, because otherwise I would have been constantly explaining what I was laughing at -- and perhaps even a bit funnier to me because as an American expatriate in Canada for the past 30-some years, I've been looking at the USA from the outside with increasing bemusement for three decades; and as the parent of a Canadian expatriate in Italy I've been looking at Italy for several years, also with occasional bemusement. Having just survived an show more Italian move, I do take issue with Severgnini's observations on moving -- *Americans* take everything with them? Has he never noticed that when Italians move, even to or from a rental house, they have to take the light fixtures, all the appliances, the cupboards, and -- literally -- the kitchen sink? What could the Americans possibly take that Italians don't? -- unless it's the drapes, which are substituted by built-in shutters in Italy. And whoever convinced poor, gullible Beppe that Americans have some kind of mystical regard for a well-known and universally disparaged chopped meat product in rectangular cans should be ashamed. But his comments on the American desire to "be in control" (and how this applies to religion and the self-help industry) and the desire for "comfort" are insightful and thought-provoking. show less

An Italian writer and his wife spend a year in America living in a Georgetown rowhouse, a home Severgnini himself admits is not typically American. Especially in the beginning, Severgnini makes some interesting observations of moving and settling into the way of life in the United States. Some observations only make sense from an Italian perspective, such as visiting government offices being quick and free of bureaucracy or that Americans all drive safely obeying the speed limit (in show more Washington, DC no less!). With the exception of a few outings and some incidents in his own neighborhood, Severgnini avoids writing about his own experiences. In fact, even though the chapters are titled by months indicating a temporal narrative, the book on the whole is a series of essays on American culture and behaviors. Severgnini ranges witty and insightful to condescending and petty, but generally his views are fair and in a proper perspective. That he tends to write in a tone of someone who has figured it all out and knows exactly how Americans are gets under my skin (even when he admits that it's an Italian trait to do just this even with very little experience to back it up).

"The United States is actually a republic founded on relocation. The whole social order is based on one assumption: people move house. Presidents move out of the White House, workers go where the work is, and children leave home for college. There are awesome mechanisms in place to facilitate these operations." - p. 17

"When Americans take a serious interest in soccer -- and many are doing so with a determined courtesy that honors their nation -- they demand logical answers. But it is no coincidence that the best teams come from some of the most irresistibly irrational nations on earth -- Brazilians, Argentines, and Italian. (There are Germans too, of course, but they manage to do everything well.) How a game will end, and how a team or player will behave, are completely unpredictable. Camus wrote of soccer that 'I learned that the ball never goes where you think it will. This has helped me in life'

But try telling that to the Americans. It's just not possible, and they'll want to know what position Camus played (goalkeeper). The average American approaches soccer like a pathologist: he (or she) cuts it open to find out what's inside. Facts. Numbers. Statistics. You can't simply say that the other team was incredibly lucky and the refereeing was scandalous (these are concepts that translate into any language). Oh no. America demands that victories and defeats should have a justification. Soccer, like everything else, has to be scientific. Whether the science is physics, physiology, statistics, tactics, psychology, or meteorology is immaterial. The vital thing is to have an explanation that doesn't depend on good luck or the moral rectitude of the referee." p. 54-55

"To explain a phenomenon, in the eyes of a fundamentally rational nation, is one way of defusing its explosive -- and subversive -- charge. The weather is therefore subjected to maniacally detailed analysis. The attitude has nothing whatever to do with the British passion for the same topic. In stoical Albion, talking about the weather is way of looking forward to the discomforts it will bring. In the logical United States, it's a damage-limitation strategy." -p. 64

"The mere fact of being American -- even when America has given you very little -- seems to imply a sort of mystic consensus. The fact that you are Italian - even Italy has given you everything -- for many of my compatriots doesn't appear to mean anything at all." p. 92 show less