Category: Andrei Navrozov

While invoking Conrad or Nabokov would be a bit of overkill, the fact is that passing for a native in a language other than one’s mother tongue – in my own case, moreover, a native whose literary persona is distinctly curmudgeonly – invites comment.  In particular, it is often said that learning a foreign language any time after puberty, as was Stalin’s case with Russian, condemns the learner to a lifetime of subtle humiliations. Stefano, a friend from London who has been almost absurdly kind to me over the years, has now got it into his head that he wants...

If ever I had the temptation to shirk my duty as the gentle reader’s clarion and dulcimer, if ever I wanted to declare myself on holiday and beg off for just a single week, if ever nature triumphed over nurture to make a child’s chore of the fast approaching Wednesday, it is now. I am in Tuscany, where the other day it actually rained – that last word describing an atmospheric condition when condensed moisture falls from the sky in drops, see also snow. In July in Palermo, where it last snowed in 1956, leaving an air conditioned house to...

Curious people, these expats.  I’ve met quite a number in my travels, mostly Brits, but also Americans and Germans, who aggregate in the south of Europe – Spain, Italy, Greece – drawn here by several very obvious lures.  The sun and the sea are not among them.  The main one is the cheapness of the alcohol, ranging from 96 proof spirit on offer in any supermarket to perfectly drinkable white wine for $1 a bottle.

Like lead in the keel of a sailing vessel, which keeps it from capsizing, sloth is what has given our island its stability, its longevity, and its virtue.  I never tire of pointing out to incredulous visitors that Sicily has more extant Greek antiquities than Greece because the people here were too lazy to break apart temples to make door jambs and pave patios.