The following review appeared in The Peterborough Examiner on August 4, 2007 and was reprinted in The New York Review of Science Fiction at a later date:
Fabrizio’s Return by Mark Frutkin is on the Sunburst shortlist, and will likely be on the Giller shortlist as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wins one of these major prizes, the first being for speculative fiction, the second for mainstream literary, published in Canada the preceding year.
Fabrizio Cambiati, a cleric in the town of Cremona, Italy during the late 1600's is also an herbalist, a painter, and an alchemist. He has a faithful servant, the dwarf Omero, with whom he likes to discuss such matters as the composition of the legendary Philosopher’s Stone, the secret of the alchemists whose power it was to transmute lead into gold, or the human soul into all it could be.
There are two magic violins in this book, one good, one bad. There are blood feuds and star crossed lovers and a Commedia del’ Arte troupe who perform for the townsfolk on a makeshift stage in the square at night. The stories they perform interweave with the stories of the main characters’ lives, as well as with the path of the mysterious comet which returns every seventy-eight years, pouring a subtle transformational light into the hearts of observers as it crosses the sky.
There is a beautiful infertile duchess who comes to Fabrizio fror help, and a duke, her proud husband who can’t face the thought of not leaving an heir. There is a painting of the duchess Fabrizio makes, which, seventy-eight years later, reveals a clue to his identity to the Devil’s Advocate, the Jesuit Michele Archenti, hired by the Vatican to interview the citizens of Cremona to discern, and in the end, pronounce whether or not Cambiati really was a saint, as they have come to believe.
The advocate must listen to the testimonials of the citizenry, including the now elderly duchess, her equally beautiful and wilful grand-daughter, and the mysterious mystic/madman Rodolfo, who wears his brother’s skeleton on his back, for reasons which are fully explained.
The more stories about Cambiati Archenti hears, the more his own heart is transformed, so that in the end his definition of sainthood must change just as much as his view of himself, to one more embracing of love in all its forms.
Archenti’s story is broken by return visits with Fabrizio and Omero, discussing philosophies in the clock tower whilst feasting on artisanal bread and goat cheese, fresh grapes and wine. Frutkin does food well, and landscape, and architecture, particularly in the central square of Cremona; its spired and turretted buildings and archways casting enigmatic shadows that follow the sun, while laden donkey carts and secretive sorts move in and out of those shadows. It’s a renaissance painting, this book, or perhaps, an image in a puddle that, when poked with a stick, transforms itself into an utterly different yet equally beautiful image.
I haven’t read Frutkin’s many other novels hence can’t make comparisons, but the dialogue, timeless quality, and endless metaphysical imagery and dialogue is sure to please fans such as myself of Richard Linklater’s remarkable animated film, Waking Life.