100 Books Like The Dark Heart of Italy

I came upon this title quite early in my academic career while working in an Accountancy and Finance Department and struggling to convince myself, and I suspect my then boss, that there was a lot of mileage in the business of sport as an area of research activity.

Wray Vamplew’s book – a systematic economic analysis of the emergence of mass spectator sports in the UK in the years leading up to the First World War based on primary financial and other records – played a major part in convincing me, at least, that there was indeed a future as well as a past in this type of study!

If you want to understand where many of football’s current developments arose from, this is a great place to begin.

David Conn’s book was first released in 1997, just a few years after the inception of the English Premier League.

It was the first critical evaluation of the new business of football, in which he sought to understand what was being lost as the game was transformed into a branch of the entertainment industry, while at the same time accepting the many unarguable benefits that were accompanying that transformation.

Its quality and importance are evidenced by the fact that it has been republished at least five times.

It remains essential reading for anyone who wants to understand more about the opaque world of football finance, governance, and ownership.

This novel gets to the heart of football’s importance to communities, in this case a small Scottish industrial town beset by poverty and unemployment in the 1950s.

In this comic novel Jenkins writes simply but evocatively about football, about its emotion, and its beauty.

But perhaps more importantly, his writing focuses on the town’s people and their relationships, with each other and with the town’s Junior football team as they dream of winning the Scottish Junior Cup.

While it would be unwise to overly romanticize how football was in the past, at the same time looking back does make you question whether everything about the modern game should be interpreted as progress.

Football is replete with characters and opinions.

The individual at the heart of this book, the legendary football manager, Brian Clough, had no shortage of either.

However, what is extraordinary about this book is that it introduces the reader to an entirely different version of Clough than the one we are most familiar with from the media.

It is a remarkable and scarcely credible story, one which is moving, and which highlights the kindness of the man, his family, and of many of the then players and employees of Nottingham Forest.

It also reminds us just how distant football, its clubs, and its star players and managers, have become from their people in recent decades.

This epic novel in Walter Scott’s good tradition, but with a plus of philosophical depth, taught us (and generations of authors) how to wave together love and hope, freedom and destiny, pride and courage. The plague’s tragic outcome around 1630 in northern Italy offered such a powerful literary palette that Manzoni had to spin off a chapter about the epidemic and publish it separately. Nevertheless, The Betrothed is still marked by death and devastation, the hysterical witch-hunt against the alleged “plague-spreaders” and the impressive scenes in the lazarettos.

After a trip to Florence to see Michelangelo’s earlier works and then David, I struggled to understand the genius, his intense pursuit of excellence, and how his surroundings influenced his art.

The author set me in one of the most fascinating eras of history and made me feel as if I were an apprentice in Michelangelo’s shop. I wept to comprehend the artist and realized that perfection was not a choice for Michelangelo, but a non-negotiable burden.

As I now observe genius in a musician, a scientist, or a mother caring for an autistic child, I give credence to what I learned from Oliver Stone’s portrayal of Michelangelo.

The story focuses on three women—Francesca, Allegra, and Sophia, three generations of the Ferrari family. They hope that a trip to Italy, to their roots, will restore their connections. But the ties of family run deep, especially troubled ones. Throughout the story, we see the ugly mistakes and misunderstandings of each of the characters—their dirty underwear on display—and how those mistaken beliefs and patterns have torn the fabric that holds the family together.

The characters are complex, human, flawed, and wonderful. You’ll pray for them, cheer for them, hope for them as they flounder, find their footing, and flounder some more. All in beautiful Italy. The descriptions, the locations, the food—everything is mouthwatering.

I dare you not to fall in love.

This is a different story about a different kind of woman. And no, it's not about the Mafia; that's only a peripheral theme.

The typical novels written in English about Sicily by women are built around themes like a foreign girl going to Italy to find love. This one breaks that mould into a thousand pieces, dealing with familial history and tradition in the context of Sicilian and American society. It actually held my interest.

Leigh Esposito's complex story eclipses most of what came before.

Unlike those of Richard Matheson, the stories of Italo Calvino are rarely adapted for stage or screen, his estate holding a heavy hand on the rights (I know—I’ve tried). 

One of my favorite writers, Calvino specializes in eccentric, surreal stories as funny as they are moving.

Cosmicomics is a linked collection, each tale an imaginative fiction about the origins of a scientific idea, from the Big Bang (the narrator lives in a crazily cramped space with his family during the explosion) to evolution (his embarrassing old uncle still lives in the sea and refuses to make the trip to land). These stories combine whimsicality and gravity as few others do.

24 Hours In Italy is the perfect poolside summer read, especially because it transports you to the picturesque Amalfi Coast while enjoying a second chances romance.

I’m recommending this book not only because the author, Romi Moondi, is a fellow Canadian and happens to be my author bestie, but because it’s a genuinely amazing and well-written book. (It got a starred review in Publishers Weekly, so you know I’m not just saying that because I’m biased!).

It’s technically a sequel but it reads as a standalone, and the heartfelt emotions, descriptive setting, and meaningful character arcs make it a perfect summer read.