American English, Italian Chocolate
Small Subjects of Great Importance

by Rick Bailey


University of Nebraska Press

Biographies & Memoirs , Nonfiction (Adult)

Pub Date 01 Jul 2017

Archive Date 30 Jun 2017
I am reviewing a copy of American English, Italian Chocolate through University of Nebraska Press and Netgalley:
This book takes us on a journey in essays from the American Midwest where we get a glimpse into the life of a young boy, from Sunday afternoon car rides to Cook outs. At twelve he nearly has to attend boy scout camp but gets ringworm.
The essays deal with the coming of age story of the young boy, now adult. It deals with everything from first kisses to horseback riding.
The book blends in both his childhood and afterword, when he is married.
He talks about working at his Father's gas station when he was in high school.
In 1971 when he was in College pursuing a degree in public accounting one day he was driving his Volkswagen when a van hit him. He woke up in the hospital in traction. He stayed in the hospital for three weeks.

He goes on to talk about heart breaks.
In May 1974, at the age of twenty one he visits England for cultural enrichment.
He goes on to talk about visiting Italy shortly after he is married for the first time.
I give American English, Italian Chocolate five out of five stars!
Happy Reading!

English professor Rick Bailey writes a sweet, soft memoir in vignette-styled essays stretching from the American Midwest to northern Italy.

Musings include high school dramas and levitation parties, medical issues, humorous and otherwise, death and its approach, home insect infestations, historical perceptions of beans, how Nutella might taste better in Italy than in America, and, a favorite: observations on espresso making in Detroit. It's all over the place, which makes it a fast read - it feels like no time passes at all between subject jumps, and that translates to reading like a breeze.

With essay titles like "Wisdom Teeth and Encyclopedia Britannica", "Boy Scouts, Ringworm, and Paris", and "Ravioli, Richard III, and a Dead Bird" you can get a pretty good idea of the kind of rambling, meandering walk Bailey takes the reader on, through his swiftly-traveling trains of thought. Not every essay was stellar, I lost interest in a few (I may also be a teensy bit younger than the intended readership), but the bright side was the vignette-length means that if something doesn't appeal, it's over quickly, and his fickle attention means that the topic of the next essay will veer in an entirely different direction.

When forcing his wife to discuss, over breakfast no less, a kid at her church (he attends only as a "spectator") who constantly picks at himself, distracting Bailey immensely, she counters, "He's probably bored. Doesn't your mind wander?" Does it ever, he responds, and every reader says "We know."

Bailey writes with a certain "dad"-like sense of humor; sometimes a little grouchy or baffled but well-meaning. He makes silly, safe-but-softly-implying-something jokes that you can imagine a dad or grandfather making. He uses a wry, dry tone, and even when poking fun or in exasperation there's never any lurking meanness or bitterness. That's refreshing to read sometimes.

The effect emerges as light, summertime beach reading for those who can't bring themselves to turn to anything mindless, even for a beach read.

Sometimes the humor surprises with how far it goes. I hated one piece discussing exterminating honeybees (I'm sure homeowners deal with all kinds of terrifying problems like bee infestation, and the big scary ones I can get behind exterminating, but for the love of Al Gore don't poison the honeybees), but he redeemed himself when he moved on to his housefly problem, which eventually reached biblical proportions, leading to his horrified research and discussion of how flies work and what they do:

Thirty-six hours after emerging from its pupa (a word I do not like and hope never to write again), it is ready for sex. A fly will live two weeks to a month in the wild. Do the math...Humans evolved some two hundred thousand years ago and have been full-blown Homo sapiens for around fifty thousand years. Flies have been around for some sixty-five million years. When they buzz, they buzz with a kind of confidence we can only imagine.

His wife grew up in Italy, and the country features as backdrop in several pieces, whether they're getting locked out of their rental, talking down traffic tickets, or figuring out the proper way Bongiorno greeting for the villagers.

I particularly liked one essay when he shops for underwear, on the enthusiastic recommendation of a friend, at an Italian outdoor market where a vendor recommends a pair of briefs emblazoned with "SEX. KISS." It was so typical of an American-in-Europe experience, and he told it so well and even somehow classily, considering the subject.

There's a healthy dose of cultural, literary and scientific references, plus accessible analysis/pondering of the English language and linguistics thrown in, as the title indicates. It's not heavy-handed, instead he interestingly points out things like the modern phenomenon of depicting characters vomiting or thoughtfully, stressfully showering in films when they're distressed, comparing this to Shakespearean plays, where words are used to emphasize strong emotions.

A mid-summer release date suits this collection well; it's a light, readable companion for amusement and summertime distraction.