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Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere

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Sex reassignment surgeon Georges Burou did the surgery, since doctors in Britain refused to allow the procedure unless Morris and Tuckniss divorced, something Morris was not prepared to do at the time.

Born in England to an English mother and a Welsh father, over time she has moved from a feeling of Englishness to one of Welshness. For me, thanks to the last book I read, Somerset is also linked to Wales through its Arthurian mythology. In the twenty-first century, Trieste streets are jammed like any other European city with a quarter of a million people. That befits the city's faded glory, but it also has to do with the sad fact that this will be Morris's last book--or so she promises. Through her analysis of the city, she is also exploring her own melancholy in old age, wondering where she fits in the world.Morris discreetly projects his own story in this city where the definition of self is a bit circumvented.

She first visited Trieste as James Morris, a 19 year old member of the British military at the end of World War II. A hundred years ago, Trieste was one of the most bustling ports in Europe but is now largely forgotten, even by Italians: though Trieste is the capital of the Italian province also named Trieste, 70 percent of Italians polled in 1999 didn’t even know it was in Italy! If it proves to be her swansong then this is a fittingly passionate end to a distinguished literary life. Probably, this fact is why, if the book had imbued with melancholy, it opens on the future by announcing possible evolutions of the city (it is a chapter which is welcome). Un oras care a apartinut atator natiuni, populat de natiunea expatilor din toata lumea care s-au simtit aici acasa, macinat de iredentism, care l-a adus in sanul Italiei, unde si-a pierdut, printre alte porturi mai mari, sensul sau de a fi - port liber, iesirea la mare a unui mare imperiu.We learn of a variety of exiles, emigres and consuls who either loved or loathed their time in the city - James Joyce, Sir Richard Burton, Napoleon's kid brother, Jerome - and others born here - Italo Svevo, Scipio Slataper, Gottfried von Banfield. Is this why, so out of the way, that Trieste as Jan Morris describes, avoided the paranoid delusions of nation states killing each other through the centuries, as empire, colonialism and power-lust rent its way through each generation? It was there that, arguably, James began his writing career having formed part of the British occupying forces at the end of WW2. The images lend an air of nostalgia to the writing, old as they are, and presented in a frame suggestive of a photograph album, and feel as though they are from a family collection that Morris is sharing with us. I haven't read much of Morris, it's true, but in this book it is mostly descriptions of cityscapes, neighborhoods, gardens and such.

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