Here it is not New York is a collection of daily stories through which journalists Glauco Maggi and Maria Teresa Cometto, special envoys of the Italian Institute of New York, return “an impressionistic painting made of anecdotes and data collected in over one hundred stages” travelled by car from one coast to another of the United States. First published in Italian in 2024 by Neri Pozza, the volume then had an English edition published by Bordighera Press-CUNY, (Re)Covering America.
Your book Here is not New York born from a long journey on the road through the United States. What was the initial idea that led you to tell this “other America”?
As journalists, we are brought first of all to observe and tell. The idea was born on a first organized journey together with the Italian Institute of Culture in New York and the previous director of the Fabio Finotti Institute. The initial project included a route from New York to Oregon, crossing less known areas of the country. From the beginning we thought we’d record everything we saw, day by day, not to forget anything. During the journey, in fact, each stage was documented and transformed into a daily story sent to the Institute, which published it on the website Italian Rooms, born during the Covid period. From that archive of texts and impressions the book was born of course, conceived not as a tourist guide, but as a travel diary and meetings.
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How does a job of this kind actually arise? Where did you start organizing such a long journey and what is planned and what instead of left to chance?
The organization was very accurate. A part of the work was built around some precise philosophies: Italianity in the United States, the teaching of the Italian language and the life of local communities. We knew we wanted to visit universities and departments of Italians to understand how the Italian language is taught and perceived. This led to meetings with teachers and students, often surprising. In Spokane, for example, we met a young professor who had conceived Italian courses based on hip hop and rap to attract American students. In addition to planning, however, there was a lot of room for randomness. We used to make small videos talking in Italian and people stopped curious. From there were unexpected encounters with Americans in love with Italy or eager to tell their own experience.
During the trip you have alternated large cities, natural parks and small local communities. How did you decide which steps they deserve to enter the book?
The selection of the stages has been dictated both by the logistics and the coherence of the project. A journey of this type, aimed at reporting, does not leave much room for improvisation. Each day provided a precise destination, a place to sleep, work and send daily content. We had to make sure we had the internet and a place to stop writing. More than excluding places we followed a precise trajectory, built around the themes of the book.
During the trip you have crossed over 15 states, natural parks, cities and small centers. What was the first place that made you realize you were telling a different country?
The first impact came from the state of New York and crossed the great plains and the woods of the north. The first feeling was that of vastness: for an Italian it is almost inconceivable to cross landscapes that seem never to end. Roads surrounded by woods, hills and plains that last hours without meeting almost anything. But the most significant discovery was especially human. In Nebraska, for example, we met young escorts working with disabled boys during a walk in a forest. We were impressed by the naturalness and attention they related to. From that episode a less ideological and more concrete America emerged.
In the book, surprising and little-known places emerge, such as the Cave Creek Canyon or the Crystal Bridges Museum. What have these spaces revealed to you about American identity?
Places like the Crystal Bridges Museum, in Arkansas, have shown a cultural dimension often underestimated. It has struck us to discover that there are places far from the great cities that are becoming new cultural destinations for the Americans. These spaces tell a much larger and decentralized country than is often imagined. America is boundless and continually able to reinvent itself.
You also told the deep contradictions of the United States, between historical memory and still open wounds, as in the case of the lynching museum in Montgomery. How do you face a journey within these so difficult pages of history?
An important part of the journey was dedicated to comparing the most painful pages of American history. Among the strongest experiences was the visit to the museum dedicated to the memory of lynchings in Alabama and the museum of Native Americans in Oklahoma. Americans have a strong tendency to dig into their own history and consciousness. Through museums, memorials and archives, the country tries to return collective memory to events often removed or forgotten. Very intense was also the encounter with a pair of native Americans. They told us not only the physical violence suffered, but also the psychological violence: the subtraction of the lands, the loss of identity, the feeling looked down from above. A wound that, they explain, still remains open today.
In the book you often mention the persistence of the so-called “American dream”. In what form have you found it today, in a time when many consider it in crisis?
I think the American dream has not disappeared at all. It has always been declared in crisis, but continues to exist. The test is in the thousands of people who still want to move to the United States to work, study or build a new life. During the trip we met very different stories: workers, young researchers, foreign students and professionals. We met people at NASA, boys from other countries to pursue a scientific, cultural or professional dream. This highlighted how the dream changes shape but still remains tied to the idea of possibilities.
After crossing the country coast to coast, what is the image of America that has remained most impressed?
The strongest image is that of a country made of continuous contrasts: great historical wounds and extraordinary transformation energies. We have seen things that shake the heart, but also a lot of development, curiosity and desire to grow. What remains more impressed is above all the variety: landscapes, cultures, communities and ways of living deeply different.
L’articolo <i>Qui is not New York</i>: America out of postcard by Glauco Maggi and Maria Teresa Cometto proviene da IlNewyorkese.
