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There was a humourous punchline at the end of each diary entry, but the remaining contents could not entice me to finish the remaining half of the book. I have always avoided Naples because of its reputation for crime and grime. Having, admittedly, only seen photos, I wondered why it was called La Bella Napoli; it always looked "Brutta" to me. Still, I am curious about it precisely because I've never been there and I've often wondered if Neapolitans are the same as my family on the other side of Southern Italy. For these reasons I was curious to read the book.

But there just isn't enough there. There are some gripping stories of peasant prostitution, starvation, and innocent citizens being shot by Nazis, but these are the exception. Most entries are dry, slow-moving accounts of the author's work.