REVIEWSrnLove and Gracernby Thomas FlemingrnUna vita in fabbrica:rnitinerario spiritualernby Mario MarcollarnMilano: Maurizio Minchdla Editore;rn101 pp., Lire 18,000rnThis is a remarkable book by a remarkablernman. Mr. Marcolla isrnwell known to many conservatives in Enropcrnand the United States for his observationsrnon modern philosophy contributedrnover the years to Osservatore Romano.rnHe is a keen student of Anglo-Americanrnconservative thought as well as havingrnbeen a friend and translator of the laternRussell Kirk. Dr. Kirk and the editor ofrnthis magazine arc only two of manyrnAmericans whom Marcolla has sen’cd asrncicerone in their explorations of ItalianrnpoliHcal and intellectual life.rnDespite frequent bouts of ill health,rnMr. Marcolla exudes an air of benign understanding,rnthough not complaecncy.rnWliat this little book reveals, however, isrnthe long and hard road that has been traveledrnon this spiritual itinerary. Born intorna family reduced to poverty, Marcollarnwatched his father tr’ing to preserve hisrndignit)’ working in the factories of’i’orino.rnThe }’Oung Mario was sent to work inrna bakerv’. As he grew older, he drew uprnplans for his self-educaHon, only to seernthem founder for lack of time and energy-.rnHe found time to stud’ Italian literature,rnand learned German and Faiglishrneventuall}’.rnAfter studying some accounting, Marcollarnwent into the textile industr}’ and b-rnthe time of his retirement had worked hisrnwa’ up to plant manager. His real life,rnhowever, was intelleehial and spiritual.rnAs a working man, he took an eager interestrnin Marx and the Russian RevoluHon,rneventually finding in it a “Luciferian rebellion”rnof matter against fonn. Workingrnamong the looms and shuttles, he contemplatedrnthe great problems of existencernand came to regard the factory as “arnplace of pain and sorrow, a nursery ofrnmen and women devoid of deep relations,rnwithout spiritual roots.”rnFactorv work, he realized, was inheriri’rndehumanizing:rnThe influx of machines modeledrnon scientific reasoning appearedrn. . . to be diabolical: assembly-linernwork morfificd die personal ifies,rncreating psychological dissociationsrnwhich were noficeable in the oldrnworkers, in their worn-out look, in arnkind of inattcufion which was Hiernsign of an unconscious crisis, of thernimpossibilih’ of being whole menrnlike the old-fime artisans and peasantsrnfrom which thev were descended.rnMuch of this memoir is devoted tornMarcolla’s progress through books, fromrnleftists to Nietzsche and Evola and finallyrnto the wisdom of the great Italian philosopherrnAugusto del Noce. The higherrntruth is to be sought, he concludes, in thernhuman work that “binds each and cvcr’rnperson to a supernatural destiny of lovernand grace.” This is not the mysticismrnthat flees the evervda’ world of hope andrnfear, but an appreciafion of the mysteriesrnwoven on the loom of life. “Eveiy manrnhas his talents and spends them not byrnhimself but, in his libcrt’ and autonomy,rnin harmou}’ with a providential plan thatrnhangs over him and protects him.”rnThomas Fleming is the editor ofrnChronicles.rnOur Timernhy Bill CrokernMountain Timernhy Ivan DoigrnNew York: Scrihner;rn316 pp.,$25.00rnIn a regional literary world ripe withrnposeurs, Ivan Doig may be the true descendantrnof Wallace Stegner. Unlike thernt’pical carpetbagger who begins with preconceivedrnnotions as to the nature of thern”real” West, Doig actually grew up herernduring an unforgiving time when thernplace was good for nothing except forrnwhat could be physicalh’ extracted fromrnit. The hvo authors have led somewhatrnparallel lives, their work growing out ofrntheir Western roots, each accepting arnnecessary flight from beloved surroundingsrnto an academic life lived in citiesrnwest of the WestrnIn Doig’s new novel, Mountain Time,rnMitch Rozier—at 50—-is at loose ends. I lisrncareer as an environmental journalist inrnpolitically correct Seatde (“Cyberia”) is in arnnosedive because of the financial restructuringrnof his paper, Cascopia. His ex-wifernhates him, and his two now-grown childrenrnignore him as he did them whilernthey were growing up; his aged faHier isrntonneufing Mitch long distance with tangledrnbusiness affairs that directly affectrnhim. Mitch’s girifriend, a caterer and nafivernMoutanan like himself, is the gluernthat holds his life together.rnMr. Doig —author of the NationalrnBook Award nominee This House ofrnSky —is on familiar ground. In novelsrnsuch as Knglish Creek, Ride With Me,rnMariah Montana, and Dancing at thernRascal Fair, he has created a MontanarnYoknapatawpha, complete with multigenerationalrninterrelated families andrnmutually remembered local history. Arnnative, Doig knows the terrain of working-rnclass Montana: the ranchers, fiirmers,rnand small-town businessmen who strugglernto adapt to life in a changing West.rnMitch returns to Twin SulphurrnSprings, “a country of great mountainsrnand mediocre human chances,” ostensiblyrnto deal with his feither’s financial difficulties.rnThere, Lyle Rozier nonchalandyrntells him of the leukemia that is slowlyrnkilling him: “1 he doe says ifs about gotrnme. Why I called you.” Lyle—aWoridrnWar II veteran of the South Pacific —is arnmember of that great generation ofrnAmericans who expected nothing fromrnlife except the fruits of hard work, pain,rnand ulfimately death, a generafion —unlikerntheir progeny—for whom whiningrnand complaining were anathema. Wdiilernsticking around to care for his ailing fatherrn(and forced to tolerate the annoyingrnDonald Brainerd, a new New West hightechrnneighbor constantly complainingrnthat I.yle’s yardful of rusting farm machineryrnand “tractor carcasses” is spoilingrnhis bay-window view of the Rockies),rnMitch is reminded—through flashbacksrnto his childhood growing up in “thernSprings”—what kind of man Lyle reallyrnis: a taciturn survivor of a life typicallyrnfraught with contradictions and emotionrnal turmoil, including die guilt left overrn30/CHRONlCLESrnrnrn