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The Ancient Shore: Dispatches from Naples
Born in Australia, Shirley Hazzard first moved to Naples as a young woman in the 1950s to take up a job with the United Nations. It was the beginning of a long love affair with the city. The Ancient Shore collects the best of Hazzard’s writings on Naples, along with a classic New Yorker essay by her late husband, Francis Steegmuller. For the pair, both insatiable readers, the Naples of Pliny, Gibbon, and Auden is constantly alive to them in the present.
With Hazzard as our guide, we encounter Henry James, Oscar Wilde, and of course Goethe, but Hazzard’s concern is primarily with the Naples of our own time—often violently unforgiving to innocent tourists, but able to transport the visitor who attends patiently to its rhythms and history. A town shadowed by both the symbol and the reality of Vesuvius can never fail to acknowledge the essential precariousness of life—nor, as the lover of Naples discovers, the human compassion, generosity, and friendship that are necessary to sustain it.
Beautifully illustrated by photographs from such masters as Henri Cartier-Bresson and Herbert List, The Ancient Shore is a lyrical letter to a lifelong love: honest and clear-eyed, yet still fervently, endlessly enchanted.
With Hazzard as our guide, we encounter Henry James, Oscar Wilde, and of course Goethe, but Hazzard’s concern is primarily with the Naples of our own time—often violently unforgiving to innocent tourists, but able to transport the visitor who attends patiently to its rhythms and history. A town shadowed by both the symbol and the reality of Vesuvius can never fail to acknowledge the essential precariousness of life—nor, as the lover of Naples discovers, the human compassion, generosity, and friendship that are necessary to sustain it.
Beautifully illustrated by photographs from such masters as Henri Cartier-Bresson and Herbert List, The Ancient Shore is a lyrical letter to a lifelong love: honest and clear-eyed, yet still fervently, endlessly enchanted.
140 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1976
16 people are currently reading
347 people want to read
About the author
Shirley Hazzard
25 books313 followersShirley Hazzard was born in Australia, and as a child travelled the world due to her parents’ diplomatic postings. At age 16, she began working for British Combined Intelligence Services in Hong Kong, monitoring civil war in China. After her family moved to New York City, she worked for several years as a typist at the United Nations Secretariat in New York.
After leaving this post, she became a full-time writer and a passionate opponent of the United Nations, the subject of several of her nonfiction books.
Known for elegant and controlled writing, Hazzard’s works of fiction include five novels. Her last novel, The Great Fire, was shortlisted for the 2004 Man Booker Prize for Fiction and the 2005 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award.
After leaving this post, she became a full-time writer and a passionate opponent of the United Nations, the subject of several of her nonfiction books.
Known for elegant and controlled writing, Hazzard’s works of fiction include five novels. Her last novel, The Great Fire, was shortlisted for the 2004 Man Booker Prize for Fiction and the 2005 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 48 reviews
December 13, 2017
Because I've read all of Hazzard's fiction, I decided to read this too. I read it in bits and pieces, never truly engaged until I got to Hazzard's husband's (Francis Steegmuller) piece. His is about a personal experience, even taking us into NYC and then back to Naples to complete the story of the incident. Hazzard's pieces are less personal, her focus being more on the history and culture of Naples.
After finishing the book last night, I woke to read about an earthquake that happened yesterday in the Neapolitan area. Thankfully, it didn't sound nearly as bad as the 1980 earthquake, referenced in this book and in Steegmuller's essay when he notices areas still needing rebuilding in 1983, though the people living there are as empathetic and caring toward foreigners as it is possible to be.
After finishing the book last night, I woke to read about an earthquake that happened yesterday in the Neapolitan area. Thankfully, it didn't sound nearly as bad as the 1980 earthquake, referenced in this book and in Steegmuller's essay when he notices areas still needing rebuilding in 1983, though the people living there are as empathetic and caring toward foreigners as it is possible to be.
June 22, 2010
I lived in Napoli for 3 years, from 2001 to 2003 and the area made quite an impression on my husband and me.
The author of this book has lived in Naples, on and off, since the 50s and I figured this would be a great way to relive some memories and enjoy a return trip on the cheap.
For some reason I very much expected the author to wax descriptive and poetic about the glories and joys, tribulations and frustrations of a half century in Napoli.
Turns out?
Not so much.
It rather reminded me of the scene in Sense and Sensibility in which the Dashwood sisters are discussing Edward and how the elder Miss Dashwood feels about him. Marianne is underwhelmed by Elinor's proclamation of undying passion,
"I do not attempt to deny that I think very highly of him, that I greatly esteem him."
I was less moved than I expected by Shirley Hazzard's dispatches from Naples.
I was wanting something...
more open, loud, affectionate, all-embracing, all-pervading, boisterous, bellicose, beautiful,
I guess,
something more akin to a Neapolitan style.
I've read Sense and Sensibility, so I will not doubt the author's affection and esteem for Naples, but I did not get (to my mind) and authentic taste of Naples in this particular volume.
It's not only that the writing was far more from the head than the heart. The tone was distant, detached even, and it was repetitive.
I'm still not entirely sure if I love Naples or hate it, but I wanted a book that would allow me relieve the intense experiences which abound in every aspect of daily Neapolitan life. This book seemed more likely to engender distant, intellectual interest rather than passionate involvement from the reader.
I've not read anything else by Shirley Hazzard, and maybe I will try again with a different book but I won't be recommending this one to friends.
The author of this book has lived in Naples, on and off, since the 50s and I figured this would be a great way to relive some memories and enjoy a return trip on the cheap.
For some reason I very much expected the author to wax descriptive and poetic about the glories and joys, tribulations and frustrations of a half century in Napoli.
Turns out?
Not so much.
It rather reminded me of the scene in Sense and Sensibility in which the Dashwood sisters are discussing Edward and how the elder Miss Dashwood feels about him. Marianne is underwhelmed by Elinor's proclamation of undying passion,
"I do not attempt to deny that I think very highly of him, that I greatly esteem him."
I was less moved than I expected by Shirley Hazzard's dispatches from Naples.
I was wanting something...
more open, loud, affectionate, all-embracing, all-pervading, boisterous, bellicose, beautiful,
I guess,
something more akin to a Neapolitan style.
I've read Sense and Sensibility, so I will not doubt the author's affection and esteem for Naples, but I did not get (to my mind) and authentic taste of Naples in this particular volume.
It's not only that the writing was far more from the head than the heart. The tone was distant, detached even, and it was repetitive.
I'm still not entirely sure if I love Naples or hate it, but I wanted a book that would allow me relieve the intense experiences which abound in every aspect of daily Neapolitan life. This book seemed more likely to engender distant, intellectual interest rather than passionate involvement from the reader.
I've not read anything else by Shirley Hazzard, and maybe I will try again with a different book but I won't be recommending this one to friends.
November 22, 2025
This book is in 2 parts. I did not care for the first. It did contribute to my admittedly minimal knowledge of the history and geography of Naples. I would not say I found myself engaged. The second part is an essay that details a bag snatching, fall and subsequent entry into the Neapolitan health care system. Quite charming, though I hope to never find out for myself.
August 13, 2013
Just a delicious collection of essays on 'Siren Land': Naples and its environs.
Inevitably, I've found recently, should you mention your plans to travel to Italy to anyone, that book comes up. The one with the movie, the book that launched a thousand journeys of self-discovery to Italy and India and Malaysia, I think. [A favorite story: Somewhere, in Malaysia (or Indonesia?) there is a cafe with a sign behind the counter that reads: Eat. Pay. Leave.] I've scoffed. I'll admit. I never read the book, only watched part of the movie with Handsome Husband one Saturday afternoon in the middle of a torrential downpour. I will save you from my critique. No - I won't. 1) Rome has NEVER been that empty. Ever. Romulus and Remus brushed their way through crowds. 2) The Italian people are not Sesame Street characters. 3) The pasta was your only take home? In a 2500 year old city, seat of one of the greatest empires the world has ever known, home to Michaelangelo and Bernini and Cicero and St. Peter's and the Colosseum- the pasta was the centerpiece?
But, I've calmed, since reading The Ancient Shore. Here, Hazzard writes:
So I can't really get that mad with the fetishization of pasta, nor the deceptively empty streets. It's a masked jealousy of a place that I feel, falsely, is more MINE by right than theirs that drives that knee-jerk scoff. I know of no better explanation for my (and Elizabeth Gilbert's, and Elizabeth Bowen's and Shirley Hazzard's and the clerk at the bookstore where I bought this book and the stylist at Banana Republic who sold me a beautiful orange red and black scarf for my last trip to Italy and who eloped with her husband on a whim in a tiny chapel in Florence) infatuation with The Peninsula than the explanation that Hazzard provides:
So, I'm head over heels - or boot, as it were. I can't get enough of Italy, nor of Hazzard's prose. This book is so full of such rich and succulent description, I'd eat it like a bowl of over-hyped pasta at a tourist joint near the train station if I didn't want so badly to read it again. Four stars, because I needed more than 140 pages.
Inevitably, I've found recently, should you mention your plans to travel to Italy to anyone, that book comes up. The one with the movie, the book that launched a thousand journeys of self-discovery to Italy and India and Malaysia, I think. [A favorite story: Somewhere, in Malaysia (or Indonesia?) there is a cafe with a sign behind the counter that reads: Eat. Pay. Leave.] I've scoffed. I'll admit. I never read the book, only watched part of the movie with Handsome Husband one Saturday afternoon in the middle of a torrential downpour. I will save you from my critique. No - I won't. 1) Rome has NEVER been that empty. Ever. Romulus and Remus brushed their way through crowds. 2) The Italian people are not Sesame Street characters. 3) The pasta was your only take home? In a 2500 year old city, seat of one of the greatest empires the world has ever known, home to Michaelangelo and Bernini and Cicero and St. Peter's and the Colosseum- the pasta was the centerpiece?
But, I've calmed, since reading The Ancient Shore. Here, Hazzard writes:
I was warned - as are all who pursue their dreams - by those who define reality as a sequence of salutary disappointments that 'reality' would soot set in. I was reminded that immemorial outsiders had followed that same cisalpine path. Yet we trusted to the private revelation. Of her time in Rome, Elizabeth Bowen wrote: 'If my discoveries are other people's commonplaces I cannot help it - for me they retain a momentous freshness.' And so, for most of us, it was and is.
So I can't really get that mad with the fetishization of pasta, nor the deceptively empty streets. It's a masked jealousy of a place that I feel, falsely, is more MINE by right than theirs that drives that knee-jerk scoff. I know of no better explanation for my (and Elizabeth Gilbert's, and Elizabeth Bowen's and Shirley Hazzard's and the clerk at the bookstore where I bought this book and the stylist at Banana Republic who sold me a beautiful orange red and black scarf for my last trip to Italy and who eloped with her husband on a whim in a tiny chapel in Florence) infatuation with The Peninsula than the explanation that Hazzard provides:
[We were] living more completely among the scenes and sentiments of a humanism the New World could not provide. The Italian admixture of immediacy and continuity, of the long perspective and the intensely personal . . . Italy again offered to travelers her antique genius for human relations - a tact, an expansiveness never quite with out form. One was drawn, too, but beauty that owed as much to centuried endurance as to the luminosity of art and that seemed, then , to create an equilibrium as lasting as nature's. Like the historian Jakob Burckhardt, we felt all this was ours 'by right of admiration.'
So, I'm head over heels - or boot, as it were. I can't get enough of Italy, nor of Hazzard's prose. This book is so full of such rich and succulent description, I'd eat it like a bowl of over-hyped pasta at a tourist joint near the train station if I didn't want so badly to read it again. Four stars, because I needed more than 140 pages.
April 10, 2017
Ancient Shore, Despatches from Naples celebrates the joy of travel and its discoveries as few travel writers can hope to emulate. I’ve read Hazzard’s fiction and loved it all: The Transit of Venus; The Great Fire; The Evening of the Holiday; The Bay of Noon. (You can find my reviews of all these on my blog by selecting Author-H in the drop-down categories tab in the RH menu). But Ancient Shore is the first work of non-fiction I have read, and it’s fascinating to see how her love of Naples informs her fiction.
I loved this, as I love everything Hazzard writes. To see the rest of this review please visit http://anzlitlovers.wordpress.com/201...
I loved this, as I love everything Hazzard writes. To see the rest of this review please visit http://anzlitlovers.wordpress.com/201...
May 6, 2025
I liked Shirley’s essays but have no clue why there was a 50-page memoir in the middle of some guy’s recovery from being mugged? 5/5 for Naples though
February 6, 2009
My husband got this book for Christmas, and I was so intrigued that I took it up when he finished reading it. The first section is a collection of essays by Shirley Hazzard, musings on the many travels of her life and how she got to Naples. This is a city that is rich with Roman heritage, and she does a marvelous job of pointing out her favorite spots.
Ever present in the Neapolitan landscape, and perhaps psyche, is the volcano Vesuvius. In the chapter titled "City of Secrets and Surprises", Hazzard captures the city's uniqueness beautifully in this paragraph from p. 55:
In fact, paradox has as much to do with the outsider's first unease at Naples as with the city's eventual claim on his affection. Time is long here, but a town with a volcano is no place to forget mortality. For a people who see existence as synthesis, there are no conflicting elements, and Naples offers few neutral zones where tourists can be spared the worst. The puritan view that a sense of pleasure cannot be justified amid visible affliction is meaningless to Neapolitans--who know that pleasure cannot be deferred for ideal circumstances. For connoisseurs of survival, triumph and tragedy are indivisible.
The paradox theme is repeated throughout the book. When pointing out a particularly lovely sight, Hazzard includes a parenthetical statement about leaving any snatchable belongings at your hotel. This happens about 5 times in the first part of the book. The second part of the book is a New Yorker essay written by her late husband, Francis Steegmuller, called The Incident at Naples which further explains all of the admonishments. Mr. Steegmuller was mugged in Naples in 1983, and the episode and his travails following that incident are described here. But they are set down in a manner that is as loving as possible, under such circumstances, to Naples and Neapolitans. He also draws a stark contrast between the two (Italian and U.S.) health care systems, which serves as a cautionary tale that still holds merit all these years later.
Lastly, there are some wonderful photos, circa 1950s & 1960s included: Henri Cartier-Bresson and Herbert List, for example. These are two very gifted writers. Considering that the slim volume is only 127 pages, I would say that your time will be gladly spent with these musings.
Ever present in the Neapolitan landscape, and perhaps psyche, is the volcano Vesuvius. In the chapter titled "City of Secrets and Surprises", Hazzard captures the city's uniqueness beautifully in this paragraph from p. 55:
In fact, paradox has as much to do with the outsider's first unease at Naples as with the city's eventual claim on his affection. Time is long here, but a town with a volcano is no place to forget mortality. For a people who see existence as synthesis, there are no conflicting elements, and Naples offers few neutral zones where tourists can be spared the worst. The puritan view that a sense of pleasure cannot be justified amid visible affliction is meaningless to Neapolitans--who know that pleasure cannot be deferred for ideal circumstances. For connoisseurs of survival, triumph and tragedy are indivisible.
The paradox theme is repeated throughout the book. When pointing out a particularly lovely sight, Hazzard includes a parenthetical statement about leaving any snatchable belongings at your hotel. This happens about 5 times in the first part of the book. The second part of the book is a New Yorker essay written by her late husband, Francis Steegmuller, called The Incident at Naples which further explains all of the admonishments. Mr. Steegmuller was mugged in Naples in 1983, and the episode and his travails following that incident are described here. But they are set down in a manner that is as loving as possible, under such circumstances, to Naples and Neapolitans. He also draws a stark contrast between the two (Italian and U.S.) health care systems, which serves as a cautionary tale that still holds merit all these years later.
Lastly, there are some wonderful photos, circa 1950s & 1960s included: Henri Cartier-Bresson and Herbert List, for example. These are two very gifted writers. Considering that the slim volume is only 127 pages, I would say that your time will be gladly spent with these musings.
March 4, 2013
I thoroughly enjoyed the longish piece by Steegmuller (Hazzard's husband) about his experience being mugged in Naples and initially cared for in a Naples hospital, and the contrasting experience he had when his recovery continued in a NYC hospital. The infrastructure in Italy was much worse, but the care much more compassionate. I think I will appreciate Hazzard's essays more once I have been to Napoli, a city she obviously has a deep passion for, but writes about in a manner that I found distancing.
June 29, 2010
I didn't think it possible to write a boring and annoying book about Italy. There are no descriptions of the beautiful visuals, no interesting characters coming to life. It was endless name and place dropping with nothing to fill the vague outlines of where they went and what they saw.
August 30, 2016
This book was such a disappointment. I would suggest Hazzard's memoir on Capri and Graham Greene. Perhaps The Ancient Shore would have been more interesting with a protagonist like Greene to go with the setting of Naples. I'd skip this one.
January 14, 2016
Absolutely gorgeous writing. So much soul Hazzard and Steegmuller have and how they capture Naples so beautifully. This is book is a gem.
January 3, 2017
7 delicate, subtle essays on Naples yes, but on the nature of travel, frontiers, life and perceptions. Beautiful
March 17, 2023
This is a love letter to Naples. One of her non-fiction tracts. From a person who lived in many locations, and was resident for several years in Naples, Italy during the 1950's. And Shirley Hazzard lived for lengths in every hemisphere/ continent which hold city populations. Her husband writes his own portion and perspective of the overall. He highlights SO excellently the nuance of Naples itself. Most core during his hospital, medical experiences after getting violently hurt (very seriously hurt) during a motorcycle encounter while being robbed of the bag he was holding in which he was dragged. This is well worth the read. Only in Italy would they worry about your mental state first. I'm exaggerating but not by much.
This TRULY was delightful for me to read. Naples is the only place in my entire life when I was FULLY aware, the entire time I was there- that there were 100 different layers and conversations of all ilks going on not just then but for millennia. Between the bay and Vesuvius and the momentum of movement! The people and the place are beyond me to describe. Not fear so much I experienced as knowing that I was WAY, WAY out of my league. Mostly in both energy and risk tolerance.
But you will like this more if you understand subjective moods of Italian language/ nuance and also understand and appreciate immense lengths of description. It was the author's favorite residence and was returned to for the rest of her life. For great lengths of time too.
So glad I read it. Italy's most reckless and gorgeous places with a strong conception of the mental as much as the physical crux.
This TRULY was delightful for me to read. Naples is the only place in my entire life when I was FULLY aware, the entire time I was there- that there were 100 different layers and conversations of all ilks going on not just then but for millennia. Between the bay and Vesuvius and the momentum of movement! The people and the place are beyond me to describe. Not fear so much I experienced as knowing that I was WAY, WAY out of my league. Mostly in both energy and risk tolerance.
But you will like this more if you understand subjective moods of Italian language/ nuance and also understand and appreciate immense lengths of description. It was the author's favorite residence and was returned to for the rest of her life. For great lengths of time too.
So glad I read it. Italy's most reckless and gorgeous places with a strong conception of the mental as much as the physical crux.
February 3, 2021
I can see how some won't connect with this. Hazzard's prose is a jewell box that can't be accessed in a quick, or even studied sitting because each sentence is a rare gem...that requires evaluation under the magnifying glass. For those who have visited Napoli other than a layover or hopping off spot for the Amalfi Coast, this book will resonate. Always under the shadow of the volcano Hazzard reminds us of the "temporary" feel of the city of Napoli...and the spirit of catching life and joy whenever and whatever the circumstances. There is a "primeval ooze" feel to Napoli, one senses wandering the Phlegrean Fields area, that one might slip through oozing mud into blazing lava, or the whole region might suddenly slide into the bay. The riotous architecture of many centuries of invaders and pleasure seekers makes this weird town a standout candidate for a "Fellini" experience. Hazzards piece on the mansions along the Herculaneum-Pompeii coast road, accessible by the wonderful circumvesuviana train, is both fascinating and edifying, the recurring theme of mankind seeking pleasure, and not learning the lessons of 79 AD.
Many have reviewed saying they preferred the chapter written by Hazzard's husband Francis Steegmuller about being mugged in Naples. I have to disagree, while it is a well told story of factual events, Hazzard's prose takes you somewhere into the realm of "spirit of place". It's rewarding no matter how many times you need to re-read one of her beautiful sentences.
Beware those who are looking for a travelogue or guide of Napoli...this won't do it for you.
Many have reviewed saying they preferred the chapter written by Hazzard's husband Francis Steegmuller about being mugged in Naples. I have to disagree, while it is a well told story of factual events, Hazzard's prose takes you somewhere into the realm of "spirit of place". It's rewarding no matter how many times you need to re-read one of her beautiful sentences.
Beware those who are looking for a travelogue or guide of Napoli...this won't do it for you.
February 19, 2020
(Part of my "read before Amalfi trip" collection)
This was a quick book to breeze through -- a collection of remembrances and observations of Hazzard's time living in Naples, starting in the 1950s. Perhaps my favorite essay was actually written by her husband, Francis Steegmuller, about a mugging and injury and subsequent recovery. (TBH I skimmed a lot of her pieces. I am not usually a short story/essay person).
This was a quick book to breeze through -- a collection of remembrances and observations of Hazzard's time living in Naples, starting in the 1950s. Perhaps my favorite essay was actually written by her husband, Francis Steegmuller, about a mugging and injury and subsequent recovery. (TBH I skimmed a lot of her pieces. I am not usually a short story/essay person).
August 14, 2022
I was hoping to find something personal in this book. Not just an average travel book. Plus the huge chunk on is taken up by her husband's hospital experience after the robbery. One or two things I liked about the book was the description of the scenery, perspective. But still wish I had found something deeper on the culture itself. Maybe I picked the wrong Shirley book as a starter.
September 16, 2023
Filled with Shirley Hazzard's wisdom and clear concise observations and insights. Francis Steegmuller's contribution modestly showcases his humanity and intellect and reaffirms why he was Hazzard's soulmate and lifelong partner. Leaves me with a desire to spend time in Naples despite it's reputation for crime and grubby ,crumbling beauty.
May 27, 2017
Wonderful collection of dispatches from Naples written in succinct beautiful prose. ' A lyrical letter to a lifelong love, honest and clear eyed yet still endlessly enchanted.' Rich in literary references from past poets who have walked her shores.
October 9, 2017
In this collection of essays, Shirley Hazzard gives us insight into the Naples of post World War II as well as present day Neapolitan life. Included is a non-fiction account written by her husband, perhaps my favorite entry.
February 26, 2018
Disappointing. The pieces by Hazzard failed to bring Naples to (human) life for me though some of the descriptions were fine. Her husaband, Francis Steegmuller, provides the most vibrant and evocative story about LIFE in Naples.
September 24, 2020
This slight collection was interesting. I wanted a window into Hazzard's husband but I'm not sure it supplied it. I enjoy her writing and am interested in all parts of Italy, but my heart belongs to Rome. I longed for more insights into that city.
July 5, 2020
A charming little book and a very easy read. Lovely poetic prose that beautifully captures the atmosphere of Italy in general, and Naples in particular.
February 16, 2021
Two stars for the Shirley Hazzard piece, which is truly boring, four stars for the Francis Steegmuller piece, which reminds me why we travel and which memories we truly hold dear.
February 23, 2023
Very solid, just very short. Hazzard is quickly becoming a favorite.
October 12, 2024
Really enjoyed this, and her husband's essay in this is riveting.
Good read.
Good read.
July 20, 2016
A beautifully written memoir/meditation on travel. For example, don't you love:
""We change our skies, not our souls," Horace cautions. Some souls nevertheless bring with them a capacity for joy, an accessibility to other thoughts and tastes, an ear for other tongues, an eye for other beauty: a readiness. Revelation--so inalienable an element of travel that there is even a luggage of the name--takes multiple and often inward forms. Many a traveler departs in the hope of defining an elusive self or mislaying a burdensome one, of being literally carried away. Literature has prepared us to expect the release of new aspects of ourselves in the fabled and unfamiliar. Simply by looking on given scenes and monuments human beings have been known to become happier and wiser. Travel is an elixir, a talisman: a spell cast by what has long and greatly been, over what briefly and simply is."
I began reading The Ancient Shore while visiting Naples myself and finished it in Rome, and by doing so, said goodbye to Napoli for now. It was written in two parts--Hazzard, and then her husband, Francis Steegmuller, who doesn't seem to get co-author credit. Hazzard's was more of an observation-profound meditation with a bit of memoir describing her significant journeys—through both time and space—from Australia to China and Japan and London, but settling her part of the book in Naples and how the veils of the city, so to speak, lifted for her over time. The writing is beautiful and essayistic.
Steegmuller's section picks up on his wife's feel for Naples, but tells the story of how he'd been mugged--violently!--in Naples and the aftermath of concerned citizens, police, doctors, hospital and the contrast to the follow through in New York City. [A so-called friend on Facebook promised me I would be mugged when he saw I was there. Naples certainly has a reputation, but while I was there, it felt not dangerous at all. (I have a theory that cell phones--particularly smart phones have discouraged that kind of violent robbery: grabbing someone's bag while riding a Vespa. It's so possible to be videoed or photographed… Still, I’m glad I didn’t read that section until I was in Rome.]
It was so much easier to fall into his narrative, because it was a narrative. That made quite an impression. And because I am working on an autoethnography, I was fascinated to read how two thoughtful writers who have shared literary and travel sensibilities formulated together this presentation of their Naples: Bringing in others’ ideas—from ancient to contemporary—to present a kind of timeless, human account of what it means to open oneself (or in the account of being mugged, to be unwittingly opened) to the full resonance of a place and its people.
""We change our skies, not our souls," Horace cautions. Some souls nevertheless bring with them a capacity for joy, an accessibility to other thoughts and tastes, an ear for other tongues, an eye for other beauty: a readiness. Revelation--so inalienable an element of travel that there is even a luggage of the name--takes multiple and often inward forms. Many a traveler departs in the hope of defining an elusive self or mislaying a burdensome one, of being literally carried away. Literature has prepared us to expect the release of new aspects of ourselves in the fabled and unfamiliar. Simply by looking on given scenes and monuments human beings have been known to become happier and wiser. Travel is an elixir, a talisman: a spell cast by what has long and greatly been, over what briefly and simply is."
I began reading The Ancient Shore while visiting Naples myself and finished it in Rome, and by doing so, said goodbye to Napoli for now. It was written in two parts--Hazzard, and then her husband, Francis Steegmuller, who doesn't seem to get co-author credit. Hazzard's was more of an observation-profound meditation with a bit of memoir describing her significant journeys—through both time and space—from Australia to China and Japan and London, but settling her part of the book in Naples and how the veils of the city, so to speak, lifted for her over time. The writing is beautiful and essayistic.
Steegmuller's section picks up on his wife's feel for Naples, but tells the story of how he'd been mugged--violently!--in Naples and the aftermath of concerned citizens, police, doctors, hospital and the contrast to the follow through in New York City. [A so-called friend on Facebook promised me I would be mugged when he saw I was there. Naples certainly has a reputation, but while I was there, it felt not dangerous at all. (I have a theory that cell phones--particularly smart phones have discouraged that kind of violent robbery: grabbing someone's bag while riding a Vespa. It's so possible to be videoed or photographed… Still, I’m glad I didn’t read that section until I was in Rome.]
It was so much easier to fall into his narrative, because it was a narrative. That made quite an impression. And because I am working on an autoethnography, I was fascinated to read how two thoughtful writers who have shared literary and travel sensibilities formulated together this presentation of their Naples: Bringing in others’ ideas—from ancient to contemporary—to present a kind of timeless, human account of what it means to open oneself (or in the account of being mugged, to be unwittingly opened) to the full resonance of a place and its people.
May 26, 2014
This is a most surprising book. The only thing I have read by Shirley Hazzard was a book about Graham Greene's last days on Capri. Now this book of occasional essays, published in various magazines, brings together some excellent essays about Naples, Italy -- that much maligned city known for garbage strikes, rats, and the Camorra. What is more, the book bodily incorporates a delightful essay by Francis Steegmuller, which I had read decades ago in The New Yorker, about a motor-scooter bag-grab that dragged him across a curb and sent him to the hospital.
I have always wanted to visit Naples, even more so than Rome, Venice, Tuscany or other marquee tourist destinations. As Hazzard writes in the chapter entitled "City of Secrets and Surprises," Naples is actually an Ancient Greek city that has been neglected by the world because of the ever-threatening Mount Vesuvius. She quotes a passage from Juvenal which could be applied to Naples today:
This book is a classic, and deserves a place on the shelf next to the letters of Pliny the Younger and Harold Acton's The Bourbons of Naples.
I have always wanted to visit Naples, even more so than Rome, Venice, Tuscany or other marquee tourist destinations. As Hazzard writes in the chapter entitled "City of Secrets and Surprises," Naples is actually an Ancient Greek city that has been neglected by the world because of the ever-threatening Mount Vesuvius. She quotes a passage from Juvenal which could be applied to Naples today:
Quick of wit and of unbounded impudence, as ready of speech as any orator and more torrential, carrying in themselves any character you please from geometrician to rope dancer.... Experts in flattery -- and yet believed. If you smile, they split with laughter; if you shed tears, they weep.... They always have the best of it, at any moment taking their expression from another's face.... And nothing is sacred to their passions.I think I would take the risk on most willingly, to visit this The Ancient Shore: Dispatches from Naples.
This book is a classic, and deserves a place on the shelf next to the letters of Pliny the Younger and Harold Acton's The Bourbons of Naples.
November 5, 2016
I picked up this book because Naples is one of my favorite places. It is a large western city that is totally unlike any other. And I envy Ms. Hazzard for having done what I never could --- live there for extended periods.
The book is a collection of essays written obviously over the years. I did not find Ms. Hazard's poetically expressed musings to be all that interesting. But, specifically, her observations on living in a foreign country struck a chord as I recently lived in Parma for a time and had to shed my tourist skin and dig into daily life. Most thought-provoking, though, was her article or despatch on the G7 meeting held in Naples, of all places, a while ago. Here is one of the most beautiful and enchanting places, so far untouched by the modern world's digital anonymity and greedy sameness, hosting the very kings of modern development who seem to ignore it. (I say, let them have their meetings in a tech park in San Jose or some such place.) They made me fear for Naples' uniqueness. How long will it hold out?
Now to another point about the book. I really think it was "collected" and published to provide a showcase, not for Ms. H's despatches, but for her husband Francis Steegmiller's long memoir on his mugging by "scippatori" (bag snatchers on motorcycles), his medical care for the injuries in Naples (considerate and careful) and home in New York (dismissive and so-so), the reliance on generous friends, and the general shock and anxiety. Highly excellent and much better --- and longer --- than anything else in the little book. It was good of Ms. Hazzard to get her husband's work out by virtue of her more famous name.
The book is a collection of essays written obviously over the years. I did not find Ms. Hazard's poetically expressed musings to be all that interesting. But, specifically, her observations on living in a foreign country struck a chord as I recently lived in Parma for a time and had to shed my tourist skin and dig into daily life. Most thought-provoking, though, was her article or despatch on the G7 meeting held in Naples, of all places, a while ago. Here is one of the most beautiful and enchanting places, so far untouched by the modern world's digital anonymity and greedy sameness, hosting the very kings of modern development who seem to ignore it. (I say, let them have their meetings in a tech park in San Jose or some such place.) They made me fear for Naples' uniqueness. How long will it hold out?
Now to another point about the book. I really think it was "collected" and published to provide a showcase, not for Ms. H's despatches, but for her husband Francis Steegmiller's long memoir on his mugging by "scippatori" (bag snatchers on motorcycles), his medical care for the injuries in Naples (considerate and careful) and home in New York (dismissive and so-so), the reliance on generous friends, and the general shock and anxiety. Highly excellent and much better --- and longer --- than anything else in the little book. It was good of Ms. Hazzard to get her husband's work out by virtue of her more famous name.
December 10, 2012
The Ancient Shore is a slim but not slight volume of essays from one of Australia’s most distinguished novelists, Shirley Hazzard with a final essay from her husband the late Francis Steegmuller, editor, translator, critic and literary biographer. The writing is elegant, intelligent and refined and I will let Hazzard speak for herself:
“Whether I wake these mornings in Naples to the Mediterranean lapping the seawall or on Capri to the sight of a nobly indifferent mountain, it is never without realising, in surprise and gratitude, that I –like Geothe,like Byron – am living in Italy.”
There are five essays from Hazzard: Pilgrimage, A Scene of Ancient Fame, In the Shadow of Vesuvius, City of Secrets and Surprises and Naples Redux. All are beautifully written. My only criticism would be that I wanted more about the young Shirley Hazzard arriving in Italy in the fifties. Here is a glimpse though:
“Those of us who first came to Italy in the 1950s were more lucky: we were blessed. The timing was itself a stroke of destiny, in the aftermath of the receding war, and in the moment of hope. We were surprised by pleasure, which had never been quite acceptable in our own countries; and which came in Italy, with simplicity and inexpressible charm.
Steegmuller’s essay is from the New Yorker and like Hazzard’s is (to put it simply although it is much more) an elegant piece on the humanity of everyday Italians as opposed to the New York health system.
Highly recommended.
PS I won’t be releasing this book on bookcrossing because it is too precious and the cover is to die for!
“Whether I wake these mornings in Naples to the Mediterranean lapping the seawall or on Capri to the sight of a nobly indifferent mountain, it is never without realising, in surprise and gratitude, that I –like Geothe,like Byron – am living in Italy.”
There are five essays from Hazzard: Pilgrimage, A Scene of Ancient Fame, In the Shadow of Vesuvius, City of Secrets and Surprises and Naples Redux. All are beautifully written. My only criticism would be that I wanted more about the young Shirley Hazzard arriving in Italy in the fifties. Here is a glimpse though:
“Those of us who first came to Italy in the 1950s were more lucky: we were blessed. The timing was itself a stroke of destiny, in the aftermath of the receding war, and in the moment of hope. We were surprised by pleasure, which had never been quite acceptable in our own countries; and which came in Italy, with simplicity and inexpressible charm.
Steegmuller’s essay is from the New Yorker and like Hazzard’s is (to put it simply although it is much more) an elegant piece on the humanity of everyday Italians as opposed to the New York health system.
Highly recommended.
PS I won’t be releasing this book on bookcrossing because it is too precious and the cover is to die for!
June 22, 2024
A pleasant little book of essays and notes. Filled with worthy yet tepid observations and plenty of references to Seneca, Virgil, Dante, Goethe and many other such signals that one has read the proper litany, though these citations will be unknown to most and read even less.
I enjoyed the book, but I would only recommend it to those who love Naples, those who are visiting soon and to those who often have their noses buried between pages. My favourite essay discussed the G7 meeting held in Naples in 1994.
It’s clear to me that I hold Naples, and my visits to that city upon its crescent bay, in the highest regard. I think of Anna Maria Ortese, Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Quartet and her Lying Lives of Adults, of which I highly recommend the HBO and Netflix shows. I recount my numerous viewings of Sorrentino’s masterpiece - The Hand of God. My own photographs come to mind, some of my favourite snaps from a year of living in Europe. I liked this book because it reminded me that there is so much more for me to say about Naples, its people, its beauty, its offerings and lessons, yet I will save them for another time.
I enjoyed the book, but I would only recommend it to those who love Naples, those who are visiting soon and to those who often have their noses buried between pages. My favourite essay discussed the G7 meeting held in Naples in 1994.
It’s clear to me that I hold Naples, and my visits to that city upon its crescent bay, in the highest regard. I think of Anna Maria Ortese, Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Quartet and her Lying Lives of Adults, of which I highly recommend the HBO and Netflix shows. I recount my numerous viewings of Sorrentino’s masterpiece - The Hand of God. My own photographs come to mind, some of my favourite snaps from a year of living in Europe. I liked this book because it reminded me that there is so much more for me to say about Naples, its people, its beauty, its offerings and lessons, yet I will save them for another time.
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