I recently visited the rural heartland of America. It was the first time I’d been to Indiana or the dreamy farmlands and far horizons of legend. My son and I flew in from New York, and then drove for some hours cross-country – very flat country, flatter than Norfolk – to inspect the campus of Purdue University. I found myself instantly overcome by a deep sense of homecoming – which is a bit odd, considering. I’ve led a peripatetic life. I was born in Istanbul, and grew up in the UK very anglicised: boarding school (Clifton College), guardians, hymns, Victorian houses, an English literature degree. Then I ended up living in the Big Apple for three decades. You’d think the Midwest would hardly echo any deep, internal notion of hearth and home for a fragmented cosmopolitan identity like mine. But there it was. The widespread feeling of friendliness, the innate...
I’m afraid this isn’t one of our four free articles available in full, which are set out in the first two rows of the ‘Magazine’ page.
Please click here to find them.
To buy a digital version of this issue for just £2.99, click here
