I actually have a stack of books to review here, but before I attempt to get to them, a quick, light one.

(First, a note on how I pick books to read. I have scads of religion/history books that are always waiting, but every time we go to the library – once a week during the school year, usually more often during the summer, I scan the "new arrivals" fiction and non-fiction and pick out what’s interesting, take it home, and then usually don’t read it. But at least I make the effort.)

The last couple of nights, I read through No Vulgar Hotel: The Desire and Pursuit of Venice by Judith Martin, aka Miss Manners. The book is exactly what the title indicates – a survey of how people – primarily outsiders – have valued, depicted, treasured, and obsessed about Venice over the centuries. The title comes from Henry James’, The Wings of a Dove:

Her weak word, as a general hint, had been: "At Venice, please, if possible, no dreadful, no vulgar hotel; but, if it can be at all managed–you know what I mean–some fine old rooms, wholly independent, for a series of months. Plenty of them too, and the more interesting the better: part of a palace, historic and picturesque, but strictly inodorous, where we shall be to ourselves, with a cook, don’t you know?–with servants, frescoes, tapestries, antiquities, the thorough make-believe of a settlement."

The book is – okay. To be clear: I’ve never been to Venice, and while I hope to go someday, I’m not in any way obsessed. But I am interestested in history in general, in Italy, and I also have a weird interest in the history of tourism (perhaps because of its partial roots, especially in the European context, in pilgrimage). So this seemed like it might be a fruitful read. Eh. Oh, I did learn a lot about what people through history have thought of Venice, but the book seemed scattered, and didn’t give you a good sense of the city, surprisingly enough. In the end, as the one reader review on Amazon indicates, it’s saturated by a rather twee sensibility. I suppose it is hard to write a travel book like this one without making oneself come off as far more privileged than your poor schlep of a reader who can never hope to go to Venice four times a year. I guess this book proves that it’s hard, because Martin doesn’t quite succeed. Even though the intention is to mildly mock the Venetophile’s obsession, the end effect is that the Venetophiles are mighty pleased with themselves.

But, this being Judith Martin, who is a good writer, there is some..well..good writing! This paragraph made me laugh out loud:

Jean-Paul Sartre and Régis Debray were infuriated by the very existence of Venice. Decaying in a pretty, romantic, way, instead of an ugly, nitty-gritty way, Venice is inauthentic, they charged. Also effeminate and castrating, Sartre added. Venetians are the sort of people who admire Titian, they both pointed out scornfully, and Idiots of Venice (Debray’s term for Venetophiles), with their worship of art, are as bad as church-goers. Worst of all, being in Venice is not conducive to philosophical and political discontent leading to depression or, in the case of Debray, guerilla warfare. (218)

*Robert Benchley, legendarily, in a telegram to Harold Ross.