Bourgeois Book Club

The Art Detective by Philip Mould

Art is fragile. Pigments chemically change, light fades, dirt obscures, overenthusiastic restorers of yesteryear overclean and overpaint. Then there are the hoaxes and forgeries, the misattributions and the mistakes, and just the plain occultation of time. This memoir of the art world by Antiques Roadshow (UK) valuer, British portrait specialist, and Dickensian-named Philip Mould takes us through the detective work, scientific and archival, necessary to take an ugly duckling picture in some dingy shed and turn it, through the magic of restoration and provenance, into a beautiful swan at auction. It's a treasure hunt through old churches, forgotten attics, and disused corridors to find the mislabeled and misidentified, the neglected and the damaged, for those rare birds.

The portrait of Mould painted by his writing is that of a tweed-jacketed, pipe-smoking good egg with a plummy accent; sadly, however, he doesn't have the moustache, mane of white hair, and stylish, but unstated, eyewear I had pictured. (I can neither confirm nor deny based on that picture whether he smokes a pipe or wears tweed jackets.) He's terrific at sketching out the oddballs and eccentrics of the art world, always with good humor and sympathy. Indeed, good humor is one of the most appealing aspects of the book, though often with a very British subtlety and wryness. Mould takes art seriously, but neither himself nor his fellow man thus.

Mould is particularly interesting when talking about the role of connoisseurship in art. All of today's high-tech analysis and readily available scholarly material, as important and fascinating as they are (and Mould goes into some detail about them), can't quite replace the in-depth knowledge of a painter or school. Sometimes, millions of dollars ride on nothing more than a gut feeling. But that's all part of the game that Mould so beautifully describes: the thrill of discovery, of winning over rivals, of uncovering neglected art.

An absolute delight and most highly recommended.

Farlander by Col Buchanan

The assassin Ash is an exile on the cusp of death. Nico is a homeless youth from a besieged and beleaguered island. After a robbery gone wrong, Nico agrees to become Ash's apprentice in the arts of killing.

The Empire of Mann is an expansionist theocracy dedicated to a Nietzschean religion based on conscienceless cruelty, debauchery, and butchery. When the son of the Holy Matriarch kills a girl under the protection of the Roshun assassin order, Ash and Nico, along with Ash's great rival and his apprentice, are dispatched to assail the very heart and stronghold of the Empire and take lethal revenge. Meanwhile, the war between Mann and Nico's homeland, the Mercian Free Ports, the last remaining free nation around the Midere sea, enters what could be its final, catastrophic phase and signal Mann's final triumph.

A shocking ending, compelling characters, and a host of varied viewpoints make this a well-above-average fantasy. Bits of steampunk, such as dirigibles and gaslights, seem a bit tacked-on and cosmetic more than integral, but they don't really detract, either. The exploration of the psychological and sociological tolls of war, especially what it means to be brave and survive, is thought-provoking and something you don't often see in fantasy. Definitely worth a read.

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

Diana Bishop is the heir of two magical lines, but determined to lead a normal, human life as a historian of sciences, specifically seventeenth century chemistry, without the burden or crutch of magic. Unfortunately, an alchemical manuscript pulled from the shelves of the Bodleian for her latest research project blows the carefully constructed wall of separation between her heritage and scholarship clear away. Her discovery attracts the attention of Michael Clairmont, vampire biochemist and neuroscientist, and a host of other daemons, witches, and vampires, as these things incidents invariably do.

Honestly, though it sounds like I read the whole book, I couldn't get past the first hundred pages. As if I didn't feel like enough of a misogynist this week, I find that the book by a female in this edition of Bourgeois Book Club is the one I'm going to pan. I'm all about the infodumps, but something about Harkness's exposition just grates. I found I had no connection to the characters, and surprisingly little interest in the world. The romance was a little too Twilighty for me. Michael, who like all vampires just happens to be devastatingly attractive, just finds her instantly irresistible and Diana finds him mysteriously alluring and it all just is unconvincing. He actually breaks into her house and watches her sleep! Way to be creepy!

It's a book I expected to enjoy, and it's getting good notices, but somehow, despite being right in my remit, it turned me right cold. Maybe if I did my full duty as a reviewer and finished the book, I'd find it ultimately satisfying, but I just can't summon the energy to continue with a book that I'm disliking. I'm just a bad, baaaaaaaad reviewer, I guess. I'll put it away for a while, though, and maybe if I come back to it I'll be able to enjoy it more and finish it.

On a more positive, but shallow, note: it has an absolutely gorgeous cover. Really, one of the prettiest I've ever seen. And it smells really good, too, with thick, creamy paper that's a delight to touch. (Long-time readers know I have a bit of a fetish for book texture and smell.)

Added 3/3/11: Nice to know I'm not totally crazy. It doesn't sound like I missed much by stopping.