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Iago
An unforgettable adventure beginning where Shakespeare's Othello leaves off
Wounded in love, tormented by his past, Shakespeare's most complex villain is brought magnificently to life in this tale of two adversaries—one an accused killer; the other, one of the most powerful men in Venice. Having escaped from Cyprus, accused of the murders of the governor, known as the Moor, and his lovely young wife, Iago is now locked in battle with Annibale Malipiero, known as Il Terribile, the chief inquisitor of Italy's greatest city.
Malipiero is repelled by the more brutal tasks of the interrogante. His obsession is with the very nature of evil. What makes a man into a murderer, he longs to know? Is Iago a lone psychopath, or does he lie at the heart of a more widespread Ottoman conspiracy? Malipiero knows that torture will not provide him with the answers he seeks. But there is, perhaps, a more audacious and unusual route to the truth . . .
Exuberantly inventive, thrillingly complex, and richly entertaining, Iago will captivate fans already familiar with Shakespeare and appeal to anyone who loves a rich historical novel. Iago marks the emergence of a remarkable new literary voice.
466 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 3, 2012
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 64 reviews
February 21, 2012
Tackling Shakespeare's infamous and arguably most mysterious villain is an act of courage; after all, Iago has gone down in literary annals as one of the most heinous of men, responsible for the catastrophe that cost Othello and Desdemona their lives. What we never really find out in Shakespeare's play is why Iago did it."Demand me nothing," he says enigmatically toward the end of the play. "What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word."
Fortunately, Mr Snodin doesn't attempt to re-create Iago's actions in so far as Desdemona and Othello are concerned; rather, he chooses to set his exuberant tale some time after the events in the play, centering it on two main points of view: that of Gentile Stornello, a keen, slightly impoverished noble youth caught up quite by accident in the hunt for Iago, and Annibale Malpiero, Venice's weary head-inquisitor. Both men will come on collision course with Iago himself, but only one of them will truly come to understand the fallible flesh and blood being who dwells under Iago's terrifying visage.
Not being a stickler for Shakespearean accuracy,I thoroughly enjoyed Mr Snodin's witty take on the monstrous arch-criminal, as well as his descriptions of 16th century Venice and Cyprus, which dominate the first two-thirds of the novel. He is particularly effective when writing through the voice of observant, love-struck Gentile, whose seemingly unattainable object of desire is a fetching servant girl named Franchisina, the lover of a handsome scion of a rival family. Gentile is our anti-hero: bookish, unimpressive physically, and far too intelligent for his own good. As his life intersects with that of the single-minded inquisitor Malpiero and Iago himself, the novel bursts with a combination of thriller-like pacing and philosophical musings that capture the oft-schizophrenic nature of the Renaissance itself.
Mr Snodin's evident research and wit overcome any minor quibbles in his narrative, as well - especially when he sets his main characters on a chase through Italy in which we begin to realize that the vilified Iago is far more, and paradoxically far less, than he seems.
Fortunately, Mr Snodin doesn't attempt to re-create Iago's actions in so far as Desdemona and Othello are concerned; rather, he chooses to set his exuberant tale some time after the events in the play, centering it on two main points of view: that of Gentile Stornello, a keen, slightly impoverished noble youth caught up quite by accident in the hunt for Iago, and Annibale Malpiero, Venice's weary head-inquisitor. Both men will come on collision course with Iago himself, but only one of them will truly come to understand the fallible flesh and blood being who dwells under Iago's terrifying visage.
Not being a stickler for Shakespearean accuracy,I thoroughly enjoyed Mr Snodin's witty take on the monstrous arch-criminal, as well as his descriptions of 16th century Venice and Cyprus, which dominate the first two-thirds of the novel. He is particularly effective when writing through the voice of observant, love-struck Gentile, whose seemingly unattainable object of desire is a fetching servant girl named Franchisina, the lover of a handsome scion of a rival family. Gentile is our anti-hero: bookish, unimpressive physically, and far too intelligent for his own good. As his life intersects with that of the single-minded inquisitor Malpiero and Iago himself, the novel bursts with a combination of thriller-like pacing and philosophical musings that capture the oft-schizophrenic nature of the Renaissance itself.
Mr Snodin's evident research and wit overcome any minor quibbles in his narrative, as well - especially when he sets his main characters on a chase through Italy in which we begin to realize that the vilified Iago is far more, and paradoxically far less, than he seems.
April 13, 2015
(Note: Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Program)
Othello, though not one of my favorite tragedies, is considered to be one of the better works by William Shakespeare. It is also the basis for one of Verdi's greatest operas. Knowing this, I chose this book, hoping that it would renew my admiration for the Bard and kindle a love for one of his greater plays, sort of like what
The Tragedy of Arthur did for me not too long ago. I must admit, this book has some good moments, but it just doesn't deliver everything that was promised. The first part of the novel drags on interminably, with Iago making only one brief appearance in that part. There was also this strange structure to the narrative. Chapters are seen either in the third person view through a Venetian inquisitor, Annibale Malpiero, or the first person perspective of a young man named Gentile Stornello. The first person perspective is great later in the novel, but in the first part is a little jarring and confusing. Also, Mr. Snodin builds up Iago far too much in the first part. Once Iago finally becomes more of a central character (i.e. he is actually seen and takes part in the action), I felt a little underwhelmed. Also, Annibale Malpiero's motives aren't fully fleshed out. Yeah, he wants to know what makes Iago tick, but surely there were easier and less circuitous ways to do so. Also, in the first part of the novel, Mr. Snodin refers to a character from Othello as "The Florentine," which anyone who has read the play can identify as Cassio, but Mr. Snodin insists on referring to as "The Florentine." I felt like that was a slap to any Shakespearean fan's intelligence. If it is Cassio, then just say it was Cassio! Also, any time Mr. Snodin referred to his main character, Annibale Malipiero, it was always with his full name. That also got a little annoying after a while. A simple Annibale or Malipiero couldn't have sufficed? And lastly, any sort of revelation that Gentile Stornello's journey with Iago may have had was completely destroyed in the concluding chapter as it seems to be no more than a blip on the lives of the main characters. I know I've just laid out a lot of gripes about this book, but there were also a lot of good moments of tension and excitement throughout and Mr. Snodin does turn Iago into a more believable villain, if not the absolute demon that Mr. Snodin (or Shakespeare for that matter) attempt to make him out as. So, it's an interesting, but not a required, supplement to Shakespeare's tragedy, Othello.
Othello, though not one of my favorite tragedies, is considered to be one of the better works by William Shakespeare. It is also the basis for one of Verdi's greatest operas. Knowing this, I chose this book, hoping that it would renew my admiration for the Bard and kindle a love for one of his greater plays, sort of like what
The Tragedy of Arthur did for me not too long ago. I must admit, this book has some good moments, but it just doesn't deliver everything that was promised. The first part of the novel drags on interminably, with Iago making only one brief appearance in that part. There was also this strange structure to the narrative. Chapters are seen either in the third person view through a Venetian inquisitor, Annibale Malpiero, or the first person perspective of a young man named Gentile Stornello. The first person perspective is great later in the novel, but in the first part is a little jarring and confusing. Also, Mr. Snodin builds up Iago far too much in the first part. Once Iago finally becomes more of a central character (i.e. he is actually seen and takes part in the action), I felt a little underwhelmed. Also, Annibale Malpiero's motives aren't fully fleshed out. Yeah, he wants to know what makes Iago tick, but surely there were easier and less circuitous ways to do so. Also, in the first part of the novel, Mr. Snodin refers to a character from Othello as "The Florentine," which anyone who has read the play can identify as Cassio, but Mr. Snodin insists on referring to as "The Florentine." I felt like that was a slap to any Shakespearean fan's intelligence. If it is Cassio, then just say it was Cassio! Also, any time Mr. Snodin referred to his main character, Annibale Malipiero, it was always with his full name. That also got a little annoying after a while. A simple Annibale or Malipiero couldn't have sufficed? And lastly, any sort of revelation that Gentile Stornello's journey with Iago may have had was completely destroyed in the concluding chapter as it seems to be no more than a blip on the lives of the main characters. I know I've just laid out a lot of gripes about this book, but there were also a lot of good moments of tension and excitement throughout and Mr. Snodin does turn Iago into a more believable villain, if not the absolute demon that Mr. Snodin (or Shakespeare for that matter) attempt to make him out as. So, it's an interesting, but not a required, supplement to Shakespeare's tragedy, Othello.
January 25, 2012
The blurb says this is "An unforgettable adventure..." and promises that "...Shakespeare's most complex villain is brought magnificently to life..." but I must disagree.
This whole story is largely forgettable, and Iago is much less enthralling here than in Shakespear'e Othello.
Just go re-read Shakespeare!
This whole story is largely forgettable, and Iago is much less enthralling here than in Shakespear'e Othello.
Just go re-read Shakespeare!
Read
January 16, 2012Here's my review, published in the Washington Independent Review of Books.
http://www.washingtonindependentrevie...
Iago: a Novel
David Snodin
Henry Holt and Company
464 pp
Reviewed by Martha Toll
Early in his career, David Snodin was “William Shakespeare’s script editor” for the BBC. Nevertheless, Snodin disavows scholarly credentials. In fact, Iago is more action than exegesis, a delightful excuse for an extended 16th-century romp through Cyprus, Venice, Padua and Mantua at the heels of Shakespeare’s greatest villain.
Iago opens after the deadly deeds have been done. Convinced of his wife’s betrayal, Othello has smothered Desdemona and taken his own life. The rest of Othello’s entourage lays in bloody ruins, including Desdemona’s maid, Emilia, stabbed to death by her Mantuan husband, Iago.
Two Venetian signors arrive in Cyprus, a Venetian colony under siege by the Turks, to inspect the deaths of the Moor and his wife. Already, they suspect the news bulletins reporting death by pestilence to be false, and are on the lookout to capture “the Mantuan” (Shakespearean for “He Who Must Not Be Named”). The signors are members of the Stornello family, brothers to the ailing Brabantio Stornello, who is Desdemona’s father. One of these signors clandestinely begs assistance from Venice’s chief inquisitor — Annibale Malipiero, despite the fact that the Stornello and the Malipiero families have been warring for ages. In what amounts to an open secret in gossipy and scandal-ridden Venice, Iago is shipped under cover of darkness and thrown into a Venetian dungeon awaiting justice. But not before Gentile Stornello, a teenager minding his own business (sort of), is severely beaten by Jacopo Malipiero, the ne’er-do-well of the Malipiero dynasty. Accompanying Jacopo is his lower-class consort, Franceschina, with whom the battered Gentile is immediately smitten.
We’re not in Verona, but I couldn’t help thinking of Romeo and Juliet’s warring Capulets and Montagues. Indeed, Shakespearean references are sprinkled throughout. Perhaps we are meant to think of The Taming of the Shrew when careening through Padua among the learned (the town where Taming is set).
In Othello, it is Desdemona’s handkerchief that Iago uses to fatally implicate her. Snodin, too, makes ample use of the device; in Iago handkerchief allusions are not subtle. Franceschina has a handkerchief embroidered with an “F” that lands in the lovelorn Gentile’s hands. This handkerchief shows up frequently. In a benign echo of Iago’s manipulation of Othello’s doomed marriage, Franceschina’s handkerchief is a means for Iago to stage-manage Gentile and Franceschina’s budding relationship.
It turns out that young Gentile is our hero. Narrating his story in first person, Gentile’s descriptions of his tribulations are interspersed with an omniscient third-person narrator who recounts the rest of the story. This structure, disconcerting, is the pattern for the book. Through a series of (dare I say it?) Machiavellian plot twists, the Chief Inquisitor arranges for Gentile to be falsely accused of murder, incarcerated with Iago, and then is manipulated into escaping with Iago, Gentile’s tutor Baldassare, and the object of Gentile’s love, Franceschina. We are told that the Chief Inquisitor’s obsession with discovering the nature of evil fuels his pursuit of Iago. The book evolves into one long chase with Chief Inquisitor Annibale Malipiero spying on the fleeing quartet in order to obtain his desired insights into what makes Iago tick.
Characters take turns deluding themselves about the degree of their free agency, and part of the enjoyment of the book is the ongoing challenge of discerning who has the upper hand. As the plot twists and turns, we learn more about Iago’s past and present, and are forced to question whether he is in fact a bad man. No doubt this is the author’s intent. Quoted at the novel’s opening is Iago’s famous line from Act I of Othello — “I am not what I am.” The line likely derives from Exodus. In answer to a doubting Moses’ question about what he should say to the Israelites when they ask God’s name, God answers “I am that I am.” The contrasting lines suggest that at least in Shakespeare’s view, Iago is the devil incarnate.
And so the diabolical Iago drives Chief Inquisitor Malipiero. To quote Juliet, I couldn’t help asking “What’s in a name?” Gentile is unquestionably aptly named, a gentle soul who has to be provoked into belligerence. But I never did decide if we were supposed to take some meaning from Malipiero’s name. And I wasn’t sure how well I would understand Malipiero’s obsession if I hadn’t been informed that he had one. In other words, Iago is an action-driven story. Character development takes a back seat to blood, gore and intrigue. Through the Mantuan, we are privy to every means of torture and murder.
A second line at the novel’s opening quotes The Tempest — “What’s past is prologue.” In the final pages of the book we learn some shocking facts about the villain’s own childhood prologue. Snodin must intend for these revelations to explain the reasons for Iago’s criminal behavior. But in the end, the tale is more cinematic than psychological.
I thoroughly enjoyed being swept up in the setting; I swam with the characters in the muck of the Venetian canals and ran for shelter in the Paduan monastery where they briefly hid. Gentile’s beloved cook Zinerva and nursemaid Balbina are charming characters, and I could smell and taste Zinerva’s celebrated bread right along with Gentile.
Apologies for discussing a mere fraction of the convoluted relationships and interactions that are woven into the plot. If you’re after profundity, I’d suggest the original. As a period piece, however, and for pure entertainment, Iago hits its mark. To find out more about the murdered Emilia’s kin back in Venice, or who Gentile is framed for killing, you’ll just have to read the book.
Martha Toll is Executive Director of the Butler Family Fund, a nationwide philanthropy focused on ending homelessness and the death penalty. She has been featured as a book commentator on NPR and has just received representation for her debut novel.
http://www.washingtonindependentrevie...
Iago: a Novel
David Snodin
Henry Holt and Company
464 pp
Reviewed by Martha Toll
Early in his career, David Snodin was “William Shakespeare’s script editor” for the BBC. Nevertheless, Snodin disavows scholarly credentials. In fact, Iago is more action than exegesis, a delightful excuse for an extended 16th-century romp through Cyprus, Venice, Padua and Mantua at the heels of Shakespeare’s greatest villain.
Iago opens after the deadly deeds have been done. Convinced of his wife’s betrayal, Othello has smothered Desdemona and taken his own life. The rest of Othello’s entourage lays in bloody ruins, including Desdemona’s maid, Emilia, stabbed to death by her Mantuan husband, Iago.
Two Venetian signors arrive in Cyprus, a Venetian colony under siege by the Turks, to inspect the deaths of the Moor and his wife. Already, they suspect the news bulletins reporting death by pestilence to be false, and are on the lookout to capture “the Mantuan” (Shakespearean for “He Who Must Not Be Named”). The signors are members of the Stornello family, brothers to the ailing Brabantio Stornello, who is Desdemona’s father. One of these signors clandestinely begs assistance from Venice’s chief inquisitor — Annibale Malipiero, despite the fact that the Stornello and the Malipiero families have been warring for ages. In what amounts to an open secret in gossipy and scandal-ridden Venice, Iago is shipped under cover of darkness and thrown into a Venetian dungeon awaiting justice. But not before Gentile Stornello, a teenager minding his own business (sort of), is severely beaten by Jacopo Malipiero, the ne’er-do-well of the Malipiero dynasty. Accompanying Jacopo is his lower-class consort, Franceschina, with whom the battered Gentile is immediately smitten.
We’re not in Verona, but I couldn’t help thinking of Romeo and Juliet’s warring Capulets and Montagues. Indeed, Shakespearean references are sprinkled throughout. Perhaps we are meant to think of The Taming of the Shrew when careening through Padua among the learned (the town where Taming is set).
In Othello, it is Desdemona’s handkerchief that Iago uses to fatally implicate her. Snodin, too, makes ample use of the device; in Iago handkerchief allusions are not subtle. Franceschina has a handkerchief embroidered with an “F” that lands in the lovelorn Gentile’s hands. This handkerchief shows up frequently. In a benign echo of Iago’s manipulation of Othello’s doomed marriage, Franceschina’s handkerchief is a means for Iago to stage-manage Gentile and Franceschina’s budding relationship.
It turns out that young Gentile is our hero. Narrating his story in first person, Gentile’s descriptions of his tribulations are interspersed with an omniscient third-person narrator who recounts the rest of the story. This structure, disconcerting, is the pattern for the book. Through a series of (dare I say it?) Machiavellian plot twists, the Chief Inquisitor arranges for Gentile to be falsely accused of murder, incarcerated with Iago, and then is manipulated into escaping with Iago, Gentile’s tutor Baldassare, and the object of Gentile’s love, Franceschina. We are told that the Chief Inquisitor’s obsession with discovering the nature of evil fuels his pursuit of Iago. The book evolves into one long chase with Chief Inquisitor Annibale Malipiero spying on the fleeing quartet in order to obtain his desired insights into what makes Iago tick.
Characters take turns deluding themselves about the degree of their free agency, and part of the enjoyment of the book is the ongoing challenge of discerning who has the upper hand. As the plot twists and turns, we learn more about Iago’s past and present, and are forced to question whether he is in fact a bad man. No doubt this is the author’s intent. Quoted at the novel’s opening is Iago’s famous line from Act I of Othello — “I am not what I am.” The line likely derives from Exodus. In answer to a doubting Moses’ question about what he should say to the Israelites when they ask God’s name, God answers “I am that I am.” The contrasting lines suggest that at least in Shakespeare’s view, Iago is the devil incarnate.
And so the diabolical Iago drives Chief Inquisitor Malipiero. To quote Juliet, I couldn’t help asking “What’s in a name?” Gentile is unquestionably aptly named, a gentle soul who has to be provoked into belligerence. But I never did decide if we were supposed to take some meaning from Malipiero’s name. And I wasn’t sure how well I would understand Malipiero’s obsession if I hadn’t been informed that he had one. In other words, Iago is an action-driven story. Character development takes a back seat to blood, gore and intrigue. Through the Mantuan, we are privy to every means of torture and murder.
A second line at the novel’s opening quotes The Tempest — “What’s past is prologue.” In the final pages of the book we learn some shocking facts about the villain’s own childhood prologue. Snodin must intend for these revelations to explain the reasons for Iago’s criminal behavior. But in the end, the tale is more cinematic than psychological.
I thoroughly enjoyed being swept up in the setting; I swam with the characters in the muck of the Venetian canals and ran for shelter in the Paduan monastery where they briefly hid. Gentile’s beloved cook Zinerva and nursemaid Balbina are charming characters, and I could smell and taste Zinerva’s celebrated bread right along with Gentile.
Apologies for discussing a mere fraction of the convoluted relationships and interactions that are woven into the plot. If you’re after profundity, I’d suggest the original. As a period piece, however, and for pure entertainment, Iago hits its mark. To find out more about the murdered Emilia’s kin back in Venice, or who Gentile is framed for killing, you’ll just have to read the book.
Martha Toll is Executive Director of the Butler Family Fund, a nationwide philanthropy focused on ending homelessness and the death penalty. She has been featured as a book commentator on NPR and has just received representation for her debut novel.
November 14, 2013
A thrilling production of “Othello” this winter at the Folger Theatre reminded me just how propulsive that tragedy is. Shorn of the philosophical musings of “Hamlet” or the comic business of “King Lear,” Shakespeare’s story of the Moor and the envious villain who destroys him moves as swiftly as poison through the blood.
But who is Iago really? What motivates this duplicitous soldier who warns against the green-eyed monster even while drawing his commander into its jaws? Scholars and theatergoers have debated that question at least since Coleridge stood aghast at his “motiveless Malignity.” And the fact that Iago doesn’t die at the end — unusual among Shakespeare’s villains — gives the play an added touch of menace. Imagine: He’s still out there somewhere, manipulating other minds toward self-destruction.
Well, grab your handkerchief — don’t tell me you lost it! — because Iago is back and more deadly than ever. David Snodin, who worked on BBC’s monumental Shakespeare series in the late 1970s and ’80s, picks up the story a few weeks after the curtain falls on Othello’s bloody bed. A replacement governor has just arrived on Cyprus from Venice, and his first order of business is to confront “the extraordinary devil” awaiting execution in a 500-year-old castle high in the mountains. He and his retinue approach the craggy summit as if their prisoner were some kind of biological weapon. But when the guards open the cell perched thousands of feet over the rocky coastline, Iago has vanished into air.
Yes, it’s a classic chase story: “The Fugitive” with swords and jerkins, double, double toil and trouble. The novel pulls us through one just-missed-him confrontation after another, leaving a slick trail of blood, sleeping throats cut and chests pierced. Cyprus is already inflamed with panicked rumors about what happened to Othello and his lovely wife; the nervous rulers of Venice suspect Iago is a Turkish traitor. With the empire imperiled, nothing is more important than finding this insidious killer. But we don’t really see him for a couple of hundred pages, which is wise, considering that Iago is no Rosencrantz or Guildenstern plucked from the margins of literature. Snodin needs time to create his own story with enough leverage to remake Shakespeare’s villain.
The novel comes to us in two strands belonging, you might say, to “two households, both alike in dignity.” One concentrates on Annibale Malipiero, the chief inquisitor of the Serene Republic of Venice, which is a fancy title for head torturer. But he’s a kinder, gentler torturer, worn out by the depravity of his fellow man. In fact, Malipiero is looking forward to retirement in a few months, but the case of Iago reignites his curiosity. He takes control of the investigation into this semi-mythical figure who “can invade and kill you before you even know you are sick.” He’s willing to risk his career and eventually his life on a secret project to “delve deeper into Iago’s soul” to discover what led to “Iago’s horrible wrongdoings.”
The other strand of the novel is narrated by a 15-year-old nerd named Gentile Stornello, who’s a distant relative of the late Desdemona. He introduces himself by telling us, “I’m destined for a lengthy and unthreatened existence that will consist mainly of books,” which is as naked a setup as Benedick telling us he’ll never marry at the beginning of “Much Ado About Nothing.” “A lightweight, a sissy, a ‘lily-livered whey-face,’ ” Gentile is an easy mark for bullies in Venice, particularly Jacopo, a conceited hunk from the Malipiero family. Gentile just wants to study Plutarch and sigh hopelessly over a maid in Jacopo’s household, but in a plot twist that only Bottom could follow, head torturer Malipiero becomes convinced that Gentile is the perfect tool for him to catch Iago and probe his mind.
Most of the time the story moves along briskly and colorfully enough to distract us from the tenuous logic of its plot. The Renaissance streets and canals of Venice thrum with commerce and violence. Its government is a chaotic shouting match that periodically collapses into brawling. Science is slowly illuminating centuries of darkness. Radical ideas about democracy and the nature of God are challenging old social constructions, even ideas about torture (Attention, John Yoo!). Snodin knows Shakespeare’s plays well enough to drop witty allusions as freely as Puck sprinkles love potion around the forest. And the large cast of characters is wonderfully well drawn, right down to the smaller parts such as the cook in Gentile’s house, a big-boned busybody who sounds as if she once worked as Juliet’s nurse. Even that violent rogue known as Iago begins to grow on us as he alternately stabs and caresses his way across the countryside under Malipiero’s spying eyes.
But for all the story’s colorful entertainment, Iago’s motivation in “Othello” is crystal-clear compared to Malipiero’s unfathomable goal in these pages. Why would an important government official concoct such a ridiculous plan to use a teenage boy to spy on the city’s most terrifying enemy even at the risk of letting him get away — again and again? And why is Venice’s head torturer so curious about the psychology of this one mercenary? By the scale of violence and treachery of the time — graphically represented here — Iago’s crimes are not particularly noteworthy. We want Keyser Soze in a doublet, but in these pages Iago is a rather sympathetic, troubled old soldier, never the inexplicable cipher whom Malipiero suggests. All this extended effort to force Iago to whisper “Rosebud” on the strappado needs to pay off sooner or more powerfully. As the chapters piled up, I felt like Othello telling Desdemona to hurry up and put out the light: “Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch!”
But who is Iago really? What motivates this duplicitous soldier who warns against the green-eyed monster even while drawing his commander into its jaws? Scholars and theatergoers have debated that question at least since Coleridge stood aghast at his “motiveless Malignity.” And the fact that Iago doesn’t die at the end — unusual among Shakespeare’s villains — gives the play an added touch of menace. Imagine: He’s still out there somewhere, manipulating other minds toward self-destruction.
Well, grab your handkerchief — don’t tell me you lost it! — because Iago is back and more deadly than ever. David Snodin, who worked on BBC’s monumental Shakespeare series in the late 1970s and ’80s, picks up the story a few weeks after the curtain falls on Othello’s bloody bed. A replacement governor has just arrived on Cyprus from Venice, and his first order of business is to confront “the extraordinary devil” awaiting execution in a 500-year-old castle high in the mountains. He and his retinue approach the craggy summit as if their prisoner were some kind of biological weapon. But when the guards open the cell perched thousands of feet over the rocky coastline, Iago has vanished into air.
Yes, it’s a classic chase story: “The Fugitive” with swords and jerkins, double, double toil and trouble. The novel pulls us through one just-missed-him confrontation after another, leaving a slick trail of blood, sleeping throats cut and chests pierced. Cyprus is already inflamed with panicked rumors about what happened to Othello and his lovely wife; the nervous rulers of Venice suspect Iago is a Turkish traitor. With the empire imperiled, nothing is more important than finding this insidious killer. But we don’t really see him for a couple of hundred pages, which is wise, considering that Iago is no Rosencrantz or Guildenstern plucked from the margins of literature. Snodin needs time to create his own story with enough leverage to remake Shakespeare’s villain.
The novel comes to us in two strands belonging, you might say, to “two households, both alike in dignity.” One concentrates on Annibale Malipiero, the chief inquisitor of the Serene Republic of Venice, which is a fancy title for head torturer. But he’s a kinder, gentler torturer, worn out by the depravity of his fellow man. In fact, Malipiero is looking forward to retirement in a few months, but the case of Iago reignites his curiosity. He takes control of the investigation into this semi-mythical figure who “can invade and kill you before you even know you are sick.” He’s willing to risk his career and eventually his life on a secret project to “delve deeper into Iago’s soul” to discover what led to “Iago’s horrible wrongdoings.”
The other strand of the novel is narrated by a 15-year-old nerd named Gentile Stornello, who’s a distant relative of the late Desdemona. He introduces himself by telling us, “I’m destined for a lengthy and unthreatened existence that will consist mainly of books,” which is as naked a setup as Benedick telling us he’ll never marry at the beginning of “Much Ado About Nothing.” “A lightweight, a sissy, a ‘lily-livered whey-face,’ ” Gentile is an easy mark for bullies in Venice, particularly Jacopo, a conceited hunk from the Malipiero family. Gentile just wants to study Plutarch and sigh hopelessly over a maid in Jacopo’s household, but in a plot twist that only Bottom could follow, head torturer Malipiero becomes convinced that Gentile is the perfect tool for him to catch Iago and probe his mind.
Most of the time the story moves along briskly and colorfully enough to distract us from the tenuous logic of its plot. The Renaissance streets and canals of Venice thrum with commerce and violence. Its government is a chaotic shouting match that periodically collapses into brawling. Science is slowly illuminating centuries of darkness. Radical ideas about democracy and the nature of God are challenging old social constructions, even ideas about torture (Attention, John Yoo!). Snodin knows Shakespeare’s plays well enough to drop witty allusions as freely as Puck sprinkles love potion around the forest. And the large cast of characters is wonderfully well drawn, right down to the smaller parts such as the cook in Gentile’s house, a big-boned busybody who sounds as if she once worked as Juliet’s nurse. Even that violent rogue known as Iago begins to grow on us as he alternately stabs and caresses his way across the countryside under Malipiero’s spying eyes.
But for all the story’s colorful entertainment, Iago’s motivation in “Othello” is crystal-clear compared to Malipiero’s unfathomable goal in these pages. Why would an important government official concoct such a ridiculous plan to use a teenage boy to spy on the city’s most terrifying enemy even at the risk of letting him get away — again and again? And why is Venice’s head torturer so curious about the psychology of this one mercenary? By the scale of violence and treachery of the time — graphically represented here — Iago’s crimes are not particularly noteworthy. We want Keyser Soze in a doublet, but in these pages Iago is a rather sympathetic, troubled old soldier, never the inexplicable cipher whom Malipiero suggests. All this extended effort to force Iago to whisper “Rosebud” on the strappado needs to pay off sooner or more powerfully. As the chapters piled up, I felt like Othello telling Desdemona to hurry up and put out the light: “Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch!”
August 2, 2020
Don't pick this up expecting a retelling of the Shakespeare play. Othello, Desdemona, Rodrigo, Bianca and others are mentioned in this book, but Snodin is focused pretty firmly on Iago's life after and before the play.
There were a couple of points at which I thought I might just put it aside, as it gets dense in places. Occasionally, the characters seem to be a little overdrawn, and I don't always get the thrall in which Iago holds some of them.
It's a fine tale, though and if you are a fan of the sort of historical novel that features the rich and powerful with one compelling and brooding central figure and a liberal smattering of violent deaths, i suspect you will get along with this book just fine.
There were a couple of points at which I thought I might just put it aside, as it gets dense in places. Occasionally, the characters seem to be a little overdrawn, and I don't always get the thrall in which Iago holds some of them.
It's a fine tale, though and if you are a fan of the sort of historical novel that features the rich and powerful with one compelling and brooding central figure and a liberal smattering of violent deaths, i suspect you will get along with this book just fine.
June 7, 2023
This novel was good (better than Galland's in narrative, though not as historically/culturally rich as hers). I actually really liked that Iago was just a shadowy figure for the first half of the story. In a way it embodies how much of who Iago is in Othello has "haunted" the interpretations of him. This novel enacts that in a lovely way. And in the end, it's really not a story about Iago; he "merely" stands as a relief, a mythic figure of sorts. It's a coming-of-age story for Gentile, the bookish young protagonist, as he begins to learn about love from perhaps the best/worst teacher of all. When Iago refuses to talk to anyway at the end of Shakespeare's play, Snodin picks up and Iago finally talks again to Gentile. Heartfelt and inappropriate lessons ensue.
May 9, 2025
This was surprisingly good! Its references to the play were a bit ham handed at times (how frequently do we need to reference handkerchiefs?), and one of my pet peeves is books where we already assume that the characters are actually speaking a language other than English, but every once in a while the author has them say phrases in the language we already assumed they were speaking, for some kind of emphasis. But I thought it was an interesting character study of one of Shakespeare’s more inexplicable characters.
November 27, 2011
Interesting take on the aftermath of Othello.
Four hundred years and more after their creation, Shakespeare's plays still fascinate us, judging by the number of films based on them, adaptations, stage productions and what have you. Who knew that people long dead speaking in archaic language and iambic pentameter could so captivate our imaginations? Well, anyone who studies Greek tragedies, but aside from them? Not surprisingly, based on the title, Snodin's book concerns the Chief Instigator in Othello, or more specifically, what happened after the play ended.
At the end of the play Othello1, the 'Moor of Venice' and his young wife lie dead, a murder/suicide, Iago's wife Emilia is also dead by Iago's own hand and Iago in the Venetians' custody, leaving the fortress in a turmoil of jealousy and confusion all stirred up and tangled around by Iago. As the book begins, the eponymous character is being held prisoner by the the Chief Inquisitor of Venice, Annibale Malipiero, who must prosecute Iago but first wants to find out what motivates such a man to do such evil...as do a good many people who've studied Othello! The people of Venice believe Othello and Desdemona to be dead of the plague and Iago to be free in the mountains; gossip abounds about Iago's exploits with his band of brigands. Iago refuses to speak at all to anyone, much less of why he brought about the death of Venice's most renowned general; it is only when Gentile, a young scion of the Stornello family (chief adversary of the Malapiero family2) blurts out a conspiracy theory to Annibale's nephew that Annibale comes up with the idea of imprisoning this young malapert with Iago in the hopes that Iago will reveal to the boy what he's not to Annibale. Of course it doesn't work out quite that way.
This is another of the 'advance readers copy' books we picked up last month at the Great Lakes Independent Booksellers' Association convention; as such I'm not going to touch all the grammar and punctuation errors on the assumption that they'll be corrected in the final proof. At least they'd better be. The author's worked a great deal with Shakespeare's plays--I wouldn't go so far as to describe him as Shakespeare's script editor, but he did work on the BBC's series of Shakespeare's plays--and his familiarity with the works shows well here. I enjoyed it a great deal; it's refreshing to read something that's overtly and competently based on Shakespeare's works for starters. Snodin weaves in a number of Shakespearean tropes, such as the bossy comedic servants, very smoothly while breathing a bit of reality into the characters, which is a relief for someone who's seen one too many stilted productions done by people who can't manage to act normally while speaking iambic pentameter.
1for those who didn't pay attention in their English lit classes, there's a certain racial element in Othello: the titular character's black and Desdemona's white. Pay attention now, because that's also important in Iago.
2why yes, I too thought "Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."; why do you ask?
Four hundred years and more after their creation, Shakespeare's plays still fascinate us, judging by the number of films based on them, adaptations, stage productions and what have you. Who knew that people long dead speaking in archaic language and iambic pentameter could so captivate our imaginations? Well, anyone who studies Greek tragedies, but aside from them? Not surprisingly, based on the title, Snodin's book concerns the Chief Instigator in Othello, or more specifically, what happened after the play ended.
At the end of the play Othello1, the 'Moor of Venice' and his young wife lie dead, a murder/suicide, Iago's wife Emilia is also dead by Iago's own hand and Iago in the Venetians' custody, leaving the fortress in a turmoil of jealousy and confusion all stirred up and tangled around by Iago. As the book begins, the eponymous character is being held prisoner by the the Chief Inquisitor of Venice, Annibale Malipiero, who must prosecute Iago but first wants to find out what motivates such a man to do such evil...as do a good many people who've studied Othello! The people of Venice believe Othello and Desdemona to be dead of the plague and Iago to be free in the mountains; gossip abounds about Iago's exploits with his band of brigands. Iago refuses to speak at all to anyone, much less of why he brought about the death of Venice's most renowned general; it is only when Gentile, a young scion of the Stornello family (chief adversary of the Malapiero family2) blurts out a conspiracy theory to Annibale's nephew that Annibale comes up with the idea of imprisoning this young malapert with Iago in the hopes that Iago will reveal to the boy what he's not to Annibale. Of course it doesn't work out quite that way.
This is another of the 'advance readers copy' books we picked up last month at the Great Lakes Independent Booksellers' Association convention; as such I'm not going to touch all the grammar and punctuation errors on the assumption that they'll be corrected in the final proof. At least they'd better be. The author's worked a great deal with Shakespeare's plays--I wouldn't go so far as to describe him as Shakespeare's script editor, but he did work on the BBC's series of Shakespeare's plays--and his familiarity with the works shows well here. I enjoyed it a great deal; it's refreshing to read something that's overtly and competently based on Shakespeare's works for starters. Snodin weaves in a number of Shakespearean tropes, such as the bossy comedic servants, very smoothly while breathing a bit of reality into the characters, which is a relief for someone who's seen one too many stilted productions done by people who can't manage to act normally while speaking iambic pentameter.
1for those who didn't pay attention in their English lit classes, there's a certain racial element in Othello: the titular character's black and Desdemona's white. Pay attention now, because that's also important in Iago.
2why yes, I too thought "Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."; why do you ask?
January 20, 2012
David Snodin brings renaissance Venice alive in his imagined continuation of Shakespeare's "Othello". One needn't be familiar with the classic play - a quick Google search for the summary of the story will suffice, and readers will easily catch up with the events preceding Snodin's book.
Opening on the island of Cyprus in the Mediterranean, we find that one of Shakespeare's most inscrutable characters, Iago, has managed to escape from a mountain-top prison where he'd been held for the murder of Othello, his wife Desdemona, and several others. This leads to a cross-island chase, and a number of near-miss captures, led by Venice's General of the Sea, Graziano Stornello.
Iago, in fact, didn't do much killing himself, but through his own cult of personality, he created an atmosphere of jealousy and rage. The interim governor of Cyprus describes Iago as "...the worst kind of villain. The sort who does not soil his own hands in the practice of his despicable endeavors. He may not squeeze the life out of a young woman. He may not be present when the men of the garrison are busily stabbing and killing one another. But he is the killer nonetheless."
Iago doesn't make a significant appearance in the story until about half way through. But his presence is felt as he covers the story like a shadow, or an unshakable memory. He invades the activity around which he orbits like a bone-cold winter drizzle. The governor characterizes Iago rather passionately: ""He is...like a pestilence...An infestation that can invade and kill you before you even know you are sick."
In Venice, we're introduced to Graziano's nephew, Gentile, a very smart and sweetly innocent teenage noble. Snidon successfully portrays Franceschina as the unrequited paramour to the nebbishy and appropriately named Gentile. Graziano captures Iago and brings him to the high inquisitor of Venice, Anibale Malipiero. Malipiero isn't your run-of-the-mill torturer. He takes a more intellectual perspective on the crimes and criminals he investigates. And Malipiero’s attempts at unlocking the enigma that is Iago becomes the driving force of Snidon's plot. In this, Snidon builds on a Shakespeare legacy; the nature of Iago has been one of The Bard’s most enduring questions.
Venice's Doge meets with Malipiero and deftly summarizes Malipiero's obsession: " ...you are less interested in the nature of a crime than in its motive...you wish to know what demons lurk within his dark soul."
Snidon's motivational concept for “Iago” is strong. Iago is a little like Hannibal Lecter - a core of extreme violence and conscious-less rage, wrapped up in an exterior of calm and nobility. Unfortunately, Snidon doesn't capture the intensity and psychological nuance that would make the interplay between Iago and Malipiero most effective, and the result is only a hint at the potential of the story.
Snidon covers themes such as love, class differences, and the nature of human evil. The relationship between Gentile and Franceschina is one of the highpoints, though it too lacks the subtlely that would make for something special.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Snidon is at his best when creating a renaissance mood that surrounds the story. His writing is crisp and the plot never drags. While there's enough action to propel the plotlines, the base motif is a pair of character studies - focused primarily on Iago and the rapidly maturing Gentile.
Opening on the island of Cyprus in the Mediterranean, we find that one of Shakespeare's most inscrutable characters, Iago, has managed to escape from a mountain-top prison where he'd been held for the murder of Othello, his wife Desdemona, and several others. This leads to a cross-island chase, and a number of near-miss captures, led by Venice's General of the Sea, Graziano Stornello.
Iago, in fact, didn't do much killing himself, but through his own cult of personality, he created an atmosphere of jealousy and rage. The interim governor of Cyprus describes Iago as "...the worst kind of villain. The sort who does not soil his own hands in the practice of his despicable endeavors. He may not squeeze the life out of a young woman. He may not be present when the men of the garrison are busily stabbing and killing one another. But he is the killer nonetheless."
Iago doesn't make a significant appearance in the story until about half way through. But his presence is felt as he covers the story like a shadow, or an unshakable memory. He invades the activity around which he orbits like a bone-cold winter drizzle. The governor characterizes Iago rather passionately: ""He is...like a pestilence...An infestation that can invade and kill you before you even know you are sick."
In Venice, we're introduced to Graziano's nephew, Gentile, a very smart and sweetly innocent teenage noble. Snidon successfully portrays Franceschina as the unrequited paramour to the nebbishy and appropriately named Gentile. Graziano captures Iago and brings him to the high inquisitor of Venice, Anibale Malipiero. Malipiero isn't your run-of-the-mill torturer. He takes a more intellectual perspective on the crimes and criminals he investigates. And Malipiero’s attempts at unlocking the enigma that is Iago becomes the driving force of Snidon's plot. In this, Snidon builds on a Shakespeare legacy; the nature of Iago has been one of The Bard’s most enduring questions.
Venice's Doge meets with Malipiero and deftly summarizes Malipiero's obsession: " ...you are less interested in the nature of a crime than in its motive...you wish to know what demons lurk within his dark soul."
Snidon's motivational concept for “Iago” is strong. Iago is a little like Hannibal Lecter - a core of extreme violence and conscious-less rage, wrapped up in an exterior of calm and nobility. Unfortunately, Snidon doesn't capture the intensity and psychological nuance that would make the interplay between Iago and Malipiero most effective, and the result is only a hint at the potential of the story.
Snidon covers themes such as love, class differences, and the nature of human evil. The relationship between Gentile and Franceschina is one of the highpoints, though it too lacks the subtlely that would make for something special.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Snidon is at his best when creating a renaissance mood that surrounds the story. His writing is crisp and the plot never drags. While there's enough action to propel the plotlines, the base motif is a pair of character studies - focused primarily on Iago and the rapidly maturing Gentile.
May 28, 2013
David Snodin, a true Shakespearean authority from his BBC days, takes on one of the Bard's most fascinating villains with "Iago: A Novel." I'm a sucker for Shakespeare and seek out pretty much any retelling, revision, expansion or derivative work out there, so I eagerly dove into Snodin's work.
The first act is flat-out awesome. Opening a few short weeks after Othello's death, we see the new governor arriving in Cyprus, eager to learn more about this dastardly villain . . . who seems to have vanished into thin air from a seemingly inescapable prison. Soon, Iago appears to wage a one-man (and one-sided) guerilla war against the Venetians on Cyprus - moving like a whirlwind, but leaving only the bodies of the massacred as his footprints. The local populace revels in hiding this monster. The nobility of Venice is aroused.
The action then returns to the Serene Republic. From this point, the story is told through the eyes of two Venetians. The first is the elderly Annibale Malipiero, head inquisitor (read, torturer) of Venice. He wants to track down Iago to discover the truth behind the monster. The other is the bookish teen Gentile Stornello, a bookish lad with an eye for beauty and a low self-esteem. Malipiero and Stornello engage in a bizarre chase/seduction/interrogation of Iago that occupies the majority of the book, and it is here where Snodin's tale loses some steam.
To the good, Snodin has a firm command of place - Venice and its surrounding territory are fascinating, exotic, dangerous places in Snodin's hands. Snodin also spices up "Iago" with Shakespearean references both obvious and obscure (I'm sure I missed several). And there's some good bloody violence from time to time.
But the plot makes no sense. Snodin treats us to essentially a long-running chase that is in fact an interrogation, as the pursuers remain just off-stage so Stornello can interrogate Iago for the inquisitor's benefit. This makes no sense, particularly since the Iago of the first portion of the book would simply butcher his pursuers. Plus, it's not entirely clear what revelations the inquisitor expects to hear that justify such a ridiculous exercise.
"Iago" also bogs down in some half-baked devices like a love interest for Iago who disappears as quickly as she arrives on stage. Iago also alternately abuses and assists Stornello without any reason . . . which renders Iago more bipolar than captivating.
All in all, the tremendous promise of Act I falls in the later pages. Kudos to Mr. Snodin for undertaking such an ambitious project, but ultimately it fails to live up to its potential . . . darnit.
The first act is flat-out awesome. Opening a few short weeks after Othello's death, we see the new governor arriving in Cyprus, eager to learn more about this dastardly villain . . . who seems to have vanished into thin air from a seemingly inescapable prison. Soon, Iago appears to wage a one-man (and one-sided) guerilla war against the Venetians on Cyprus - moving like a whirlwind, but leaving only the bodies of the massacred as his footprints. The local populace revels in hiding this monster. The nobility of Venice is aroused.
The action then returns to the Serene Republic. From this point, the story is told through the eyes of two Venetians. The first is the elderly Annibale Malipiero, head inquisitor (read, torturer) of Venice. He wants to track down Iago to discover the truth behind the monster. The other is the bookish teen Gentile Stornello, a bookish lad with an eye for beauty and a low self-esteem. Malipiero and Stornello engage in a bizarre chase/seduction/interrogation of Iago that occupies the majority of the book, and it is here where Snodin's tale loses some steam.
To the good, Snodin has a firm command of place - Venice and its surrounding territory are fascinating, exotic, dangerous places in Snodin's hands. Snodin also spices up "Iago" with Shakespearean references both obvious and obscure (I'm sure I missed several). And there's some good bloody violence from time to time.
But the plot makes no sense. Snodin treats us to essentially a long-running chase that is in fact an interrogation, as the pursuers remain just off-stage so Stornello can interrogate Iago for the inquisitor's benefit. This makes no sense, particularly since the Iago of the first portion of the book would simply butcher his pursuers. Plus, it's not entirely clear what revelations the inquisitor expects to hear that justify such a ridiculous exercise.
"Iago" also bogs down in some half-baked devices like a love interest for Iago who disappears as quickly as she arrives on stage. Iago also alternately abuses and assists Stornello without any reason . . . which renders Iago more bipolar than captivating.
All in all, the tremendous promise of Act I falls in the later pages. Kudos to Mr. Snodin for undertaking such an ambitious project, but ultimately it fails to live up to its potential . . . darnit.
February 3, 2015
Remember what happened at the end of Othello? Yeah, me neither. At least, not in great detail. But that's all right, because the events of Shakespeare's tragedy are only tangentially important, in the sense that they provide the backdrop and impetus for the events in this novel.
In the aftermath of the murder of Desdemona and her husband Othello (yes, I know that's not what happened in the play....just go with it), Iago, their accused murderer, is the subject of a vast and wide-ranging manhunt throughout Cyprus and Italy. Annibale Malipiero, the Chief Inquisitor of Venice, is especially interested in questioning Iago about the dual murder, and goes about it in a circuitous fashion.
Gentile Stornello, the teenage son of a rival Venetian household and a cousin to Desdemona, is accused of murder. He is arrested and brought to the fearsome Venetian prison, where he is tortured and questioned by Malipiero, among others, and thrown into a cell with a mysterious prisoner who refuses to speak to him for days, perhaps weeks. Time is fluid in prison, and poor Gentile is never really sure how long he's been incarcerated. Eventually, however, the mysterious prisoner gives up his silence, and is revealed as Iago himself. Malipiero enlists young Stornello as his proxy, offering the young man his freedom and a dismissal of charges if he can discover the truth of the murder from Iago. And, after an engineered escape from prison and their subsequent flight across the length and breadth of Italy, Gentile endeavors to do precisely that.
David Snodin constructs his story brick by brick, carefully building upon this event and that occurrence, layer by intriguing layer, leading the reader down a certain path with startling surprises around every corner. It's slow going at first, but the pace picked up about midway through, and the writing itself is lovely. I loved the rich period detail. I didn't love the ample gore and violence, but accepted it as a necessary evil, er, plot device. Overall, this was a satisfying read, and I'd heartily recommend it to anyone with an interest in Shakespeare or historical novels.
Thank you to LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program for the opportunity to read this book.
In the aftermath of the murder of Desdemona and her husband Othello (yes, I know that's not what happened in the play....just go with it), Iago, their accused murderer, is the subject of a vast and wide-ranging manhunt throughout Cyprus and Italy. Annibale Malipiero, the Chief Inquisitor of Venice, is especially interested in questioning Iago about the dual murder, and goes about it in a circuitous fashion.
Gentile Stornello, the teenage son of a rival Venetian household and a cousin to Desdemona, is accused of murder. He is arrested and brought to the fearsome Venetian prison, where he is tortured and questioned by Malipiero, among others, and thrown into a cell with a mysterious prisoner who refuses to speak to him for days, perhaps weeks. Time is fluid in prison, and poor Gentile is never really sure how long he's been incarcerated. Eventually, however, the mysterious prisoner gives up his silence, and is revealed as Iago himself. Malipiero enlists young Stornello as his proxy, offering the young man his freedom and a dismissal of charges if he can discover the truth of the murder from Iago. And, after an engineered escape from prison and their subsequent flight across the length and breadth of Italy, Gentile endeavors to do precisely that.
David Snodin constructs his story brick by brick, carefully building upon this event and that occurrence, layer by intriguing layer, leading the reader down a certain path with startling surprises around every corner. It's slow going at first, but the pace picked up about midway through, and the writing itself is lovely. I loved the rich period detail. I didn't love the ample gore and violence, but accepted it as a necessary evil, er, plot device. Overall, this was a satisfying read, and I'd heartily recommend it to anyone with an interest in Shakespeare or historical novels.
Thank you to LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program for the opportunity to read this book.
January 21, 2012
The question this book sets out to answer is an intriguing one. What became of Shakespeare’s most notorious villain, Iago, the monster who manipulated the deaths of Othello and Desdemona? The book begins well with vivid descriptions of early 16th century Venice and Cyprus, an island that was under Venetian control. The story line also begins on a promising note with Iago using his wit and brute force to escape from prison on Cyprus. After playing a cat and mouse game all over the island he is finally brought before the Chief Inquisitor of Venice. This man is fascinated by Iago and tries to discover the motivations of this infamous criminal. He sets up a more elaborate cat and mouse game that involves an innocent teenage boy and girl and the boy’s scholarly tutor. Here the plot begins to bog down, literally through a marsh, as Iago and his three hostages began a hazardous journey toward Mantua, Iago’s destination. The action becomes less believable and then ridiculous. It is hard to believe that a 16th century Inquisitor would personally scurry from bush to tree, surreptitiously following the escaping party and communicating with the scholar/spy by letters hidden in thickets. Equally unbelievable are the amazing accomplishments of the gorgeous servant girl, who can stalk, kill, and roast a goat to perfection, and control and ride any horse. Iago, the character who should be of most interest, is an odd mix of violence and inexplicable restraint. In a book that is about one hundred pages too long, all is finally revealed. Death comes to Iago, as befits a tragic Shakespearean character, and romance comes to the sweet young couple as befits the ending of a future television production.
February 22, 2012
I have seen Iago portrayed in a variety of ways, ranging from a jealous would-be lover to a brilliant sociopath. David Snodin has met these ideas in the middle, showing a tormented man through the eyes of both an accused (albeit innocent) killer and the Grand Inquisitor of Venice.
Snodin's tale starts after the action of Shakespeare's "Othello," with Iago escaping from jail. Gentile Stornello, a young Venetian nobleman, makes up a story to impress a girl; he says that his uncle has brought Iago to Venice in secret.
Little does Gentile know that his invention is very close to the truth. Thus begins a tale of Venetian, Mantuan and Florentine politics, ethnic hatred and more.
Snodin brings all of his characters to life beautifully. The good are not perfect, and the bad are not irredeemable. To top it all off, his descriptive prose puts one in the center of 16th Century Italy such that scenery may be envisioned and even smells of honey- and olive-laden bread may be imagined.
I will admit that this book was a little slow to start, dealing primarily with political matters of the time. It's quite plain that the author's research was impeccable (he share some of his resources at the end), and the reasons for sharing matters political are revealed throughout the rest of the tale.
Admirers of Shakespeare are sure to enjoy this look inside the head of one of the Bard's most intriguing villains.
(Review based on uncorrected advance proof.)
Snodin's tale starts after the action of Shakespeare's "Othello," with Iago escaping from jail. Gentile Stornello, a young Venetian nobleman, makes up a story to impress a girl; he says that his uncle has brought Iago to Venice in secret.
Little does Gentile know that his invention is very close to the truth. Thus begins a tale of Venetian, Mantuan and Florentine politics, ethnic hatred and more.
Snodin brings all of his characters to life beautifully. The good are not perfect, and the bad are not irredeemable. To top it all off, his descriptive prose puts one in the center of 16th Century Italy such that scenery may be envisioned and even smells of honey- and olive-laden bread may be imagined.
I will admit that this book was a little slow to start, dealing primarily with political matters of the time. It's quite plain that the author's research was impeccable (he share some of his resources at the end), and the reasons for sharing matters political are revealed throughout the rest of the tale.
Admirers of Shakespeare are sure to enjoy this look inside the head of one of the Bard's most intriguing villains.
(Review based on uncorrected advance proof.)
February 14, 2013
This book has a very slow start, as Snodin sets up the players, introduces the families of our iconic Shakespearean characters and introduces the mystery Othello always leaves: what could have driven Iago to do those terrible things?
Iago himself doesn't show up for a while, and doesn't actually speak until even later, which is slightly distressing for a title character. And while I found Annibale Malipiero compelling, as he demonstrated his loss of taste for torture while still wanting to know what drives Iago, and Gentile Stornello, with his innocence and tortured poet's heart, it still hits me that we never really found out Iago's motives. Perhaps that's the point, we can never really know, though Snodin posits new evidence- love letters from a Mantuan noblewoman and Iago's inability to read or respond to them, Iago's own childhood and how he had come to meet the Moor, nothing really comes together in the end. Iago is dead, and we flash forward to Gentile, married to the incomparable Franceshina, who I always thought came off a little flat, watching his son toddle about the room.
So all in all, I found it an interesting and readable adventure around the Italian countryside, but found the promise of the book unkept. I suppose then, I shall have to stick to my private theory: that Iago was in love with his commander, and was driven to desperation when Othello did not return his affections.
Iago himself doesn't show up for a while, and doesn't actually speak until even later, which is slightly distressing for a title character. And while I found Annibale Malipiero compelling, as he demonstrated his loss of taste for torture while still wanting to know what drives Iago, and Gentile Stornello, with his innocence and tortured poet's heart, it still hits me that we never really found out Iago's motives. Perhaps that's the point, we can never really know, though Snodin posits new evidence- love letters from a Mantuan noblewoman and Iago's inability to read or respond to them, Iago's own childhood and how he had come to meet the Moor, nothing really comes together in the end. Iago is dead, and we flash forward to Gentile, married to the incomparable Franceshina, who I always thought came off a little flat, watching his son toddle about the room.
So all in all, I found it an interesting and readable adventure around the Italian countryside, but found the promise of the book unkept. I suppose then, I shall have to stick to my private theory: that Iago was in love with his commander, and was driven to desperation when Othello did not return his affections.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 18, 2012
I really wanted to like this book - but, after struggling my way through about the first third of it, I finally gave up on it. The intriguing title couldn't be more off-target. This book is not about Iago, the crafty, enigmatic villain from Shakespeare's Othello. It's an interesting - and sometimes even engaging - look at Italian society in the 16th century, but other than a few "name drops" of Iago, the title character is essentially nonexistent.
Othello fans know that there is a great deal of debate surrounding just why Iago goes to such immense trouble to undermine and eventually destroy Othello and Desdemona in the play. I was hoping there'd be some intriguing and perplexing insight into Iago and his possible motivations in this book. Nope. (At least not within the first 14 chapters!) All we really get is a bit of insight into the Italian justice system (read: lots of descriptions of torture) and some drama of street gang tension among Italian youths (much more reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet than Othello.)
In the end, the book just didn't follow through on the promise of its title.
Othello fans know that there is a great deal of debate surrounding just why Iago goes to such immense trouble to undermine and eventually destroy Othello and Desdemona in the play. I was hoping there'd be some intriguing and perplexing insight into Iago and his possible motivations in this book. Nope. (At least not within the first 14 chapters!) All we really get is a bit of insight into the Italian justice system (read: lots of descriptions of torture) and some drama of street gang tension among Italian youths (much more reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet than Othello.)
In the end, the book just didn't follow through on the promise of its title.
January 21, 2012
Shakespeare's Iago (Othello's once-trusted lieutenant, turned murderous snake-in-the-grass) is one of my favorite literary villains. And I don't think Snodin's Iago quite measures up to the man described by the Bard. Nevertheless, I very much enjoyed this journey into 16th century Venice, Cyprus, Padua, Mantua, etc. and the attendant sights, sounds, textures, tastes, and smells.
Gentile Stornello (a cousin of the slain Desdemona) is a blundering and naive but winsome young hero. A bookish lad of learning rather than a man of action he is nevertheless manipulated into a chase across the Italian countryside, accompanied by his tutor Baldassare and the resourceful and curvaceous maid Fransechina, in an attempt to deliver Iago into the hands of Venice's chief inquisitor, who longs to know the motivations behind the villain's foul machinations.
As a sequel to the play "Othello" the novel does not quite satisfy. As a stand-alone tale of intrigue and adventure, it makes the blood pound and the pulse race.
Gentile Stornello (a cousin of the slain Desdemona) is a blundering and naive but winsome young hero. A bookish lad of learning rather than a man of action he is nevertheless manipulated into a chase across the Italian countryside, accompanied by his tutor Baldassare and the resourceful and curvaceous maid Fransechina, in an attempt to deliver Iago into the hands of Venice's chief inquisitor, who longs to know the motivations behind the villain's foul machinations.
As a sequel to the play "Othello" the novel does not quite satisfy. As a stand-alone tale of intrigue and adventure, it makes the blood pound and the pulse race.
November 29, 2025
This is an interesting novel inspired by the villain from Shakespeare's "The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice." Set in early 16th Century Venice, Cyprus, Mantua, and Padua, this story mixes the events of the play (This book actually picks up where "Othello" ends.) with the real history of the Venetian colonial empire, the often violent interaction between the nobility of Italy, and the Venetian police state. The author admits that he is often plays fast and loose with historical events in the interest of a good story. As he states in the foreword, "This is a work of fiction, inspired by another work of fiction, which was probably inspired by a still earlier piece of fiction, one of a set of Italian stories, which some claim may have been in its turn inspired by certain events that took place in Venice and Cyprus in the early sixteenth century." While the narrator shifts from chapter to chapter, the story is never told from the point of view of Iago himself, and much of the plot involves untangling his background and motivations. 4 stars.
March 16, 2024
The book promises more than it delivers. As the Chief Inquisitor of Venice attempts to delve into the psychology of Shakespeare's notorious villain, Iago, through the first-person narration of Gentile, an impressionable and naive teenager who becomes a pawn in the fast-paced cross-country chase between Iago and the Inquisitor's Venetian forces, the focus is more on the improbable actions (Gentile continues to leave some long notes to the soldiers pursuing him and Iago), rather than on Iago's psychology. A few glimpses of his past, as well as his present villainy, provide a small hint about Iago's motivations, but no real in-depth understanding of his character. The focus seems more on Gentile's coming of age and his love for Franceschina, a beautiful young woman who accompanies them. Snodin, a Shakespearean scholar, seems to enjoy sprinkling allusions to Shakespeare's plays throughout the story, but at times, he is more focused on forcing the connection of those to the plot and showing off his erudition.
April 26, 2012
This interpretation of Shakespeare's Othello tragedy focuses on the hunt for Iago, the supposed architect of Othello downfall and the death of his wife Desdemona. Annibale Malipiero, Venice's chief Inquisitor aka Il Terribile, is determined to understand the motivation behind Iago's supposed crimes. Gentile Stornello, a young teenaged student from an aristocratic Venetian family, becomes the Inquisitor's unwitting tool when he, too, is falsely accused of murder.
Snodin's Iago is as complex a character as Shakespeare could want. Neither totally innocent nor a completely monstrous, he emerges as a strong, sometimes fair but mostly brutal man shaped by brutal times. Gentile struggles to fulfill the Inquisitor's orders to draw Iago out, but cannot entirely refrain from feeling some admiration for the tough self-made man. Fans of Shakespeare and historical novels will enjoy this interpretation.
Snodin's Iago is as complex a character as Shakespeare could want. Neither totally innocent nor a completely monstrous, he emerges as a strong, sometimes fair but mostly brutal man shaped by brutal times. Gentile struggles to fulfill the Inquisitor's orders to draw Iago out, but cannot entirely refrain from feeling some admiration for the tough self-made man. Fans of Shakespeare and historical novels will enjoy this interpretation.
July 15, 2015
The torture and gore quotient was a little high for me in this novel, however accurate it may have been for Renaissance Venice (and Cyprus). I enjoyed the very gradual revelation of Iago's character and past, however, even though you never get an explicit explanation of either. It was effective to set the novel partly in the voice of a naive 15-year-old boy (Gentile) and to let him grow up very fast as he tries to deal with three perplexing and obscure people: Iago, the Chief Inquisitor who wants to know far more than he wants to hurt (Annibale Malipiero), and, of course, The Girl. I did keep turning the pages, though I was constantly afraid at each flip that Gentile or I would be assaulted again.
I thought at first that I might have to go back and re-read Othello to understand this book, but fortunately my somewhat time-dulled memory was enough; poor old Othello and Desdemona were really only a mechanism to get the new plot in motion.
I thought at first that I might have to go back and re-read Othello to understand this book, but fortunately my somewhat time-dulled memory was enough; poor old Othello and Desdemona were really only a mechanism to get the new plot in motion.
December 25, 2011
Though I found this novel generally slow in plot development, I never considered it to be boring. Snodin does more than just examine one of Shakespeare's most notorious villains by writing a historical novel which also tells of life in Renaissance Italy, at times dealing with political and familial issues, education, war, love, and religion. I found myself just as interested in fifteen-year-old Gentile Stornello's adventures as I was with the psychological evaluation of Iago's motives and vicious deeds, which was good because of the prominent role Gentile plays in Snodin's tale. I have never read Othello and expected more time and depth to be invested in the examination of Iago, but I was not displeased with this book and quite enjoyed reading it.
Disclaimer: I received my copy of this book through LibraryThing Early Reviewers in return for an honest review.
Disclaimer: I received my copy of this book through LibraryThing Early Reviewers in return for an honest review.
February 22, 2012
Although the events of Othello provide the impetus for this story of the villainous, Iago, it's not necessary to be more than conversant with the play to enjoy the stories that David Snodin weaves around it. There are two heroes trying to discover Iago's motive for creating murder & mayhem in Othello's life - one is the inquisitor and the other is a teenage boy who's been pressed into service by the inquisitor. The story is engaging and well-written enough that I kept reading even when the plot meandered in to some improbable situations. The novel, Iago, has many of the attributes of Shakespeare's plays; comedy mixed with tragedy, adventure, young love, & surprising plot twists. And, like Shakespeare's plays, the plot does not withstand skeptical examination and the characters motivations are ambiguous. A worthwhile and engaging read.
March 31, 2012
Haven't read The Bard's "Othello" but am enjoying this version of the story. Iago here is a murderer, but of a sympathetic sort. The story is told by a love struck boy of fifteen whose life gets completely entangled with Iago, due mostly by the machinations of the Inquisitor General of Venice. He is imprisoned and tortured (but not too much) and thrown in the same cell as Iago.. With the help of the Inquisitor, the two make an escape, and it is the youth's charge to find out what makes the killer "tick". Why does he murder, the Inquisitor wants to know. He is a man who is more interested in the 'why" of things than in prosecuting the deeds. Though this is the late 1500s and torture is an okay kind of thing to do, guilty or not guilty. Cheney would have loved living back then, I'm sure. I give the novel an A-/A.
February 2, 2012
Iago the Mantuan is, if not the central character (that's Gentile Stolnerro), then at least the central mystery of Snodin's first novel. Set in early 16th- century Venice and Cyprus, the book examines Iago's motives for conniving against a longline of people and causing their deaths. The main deaths under consideration are those of Othello, the governor of Cyprus, and his young wife, Desdemona (yeah, the Skespeare Othello and Desdemona). Gentile makes an intelligent, if not forceful, inquirer into Iago's nature, but the ultimate resolution is rendered somewhat pointless (in terms of understanding) by Gentile's brother, Benvenuto. Still, the picture of the Mediterranean world is drawn interestingly, and Snodin writes well.
February 7, 2012
The Bottom Line: So much potential was unrealized in this book. Still, the basic elements are good enough to warrant a look for fans of historical fiction and/or Shakespearean tragedy. Let’s face it: Iago is an interesting character, even when he isn’t done entirely well.
The above is the "Bottom Line" from the review I posted on my blog, The Lit Witch. Iago is my favorite Shakespearean villain, so I was anxious to get to this book when I heard about it. It was good in many ways, but fell apart in the final third. My full discussion of why and how can be found here: http://www.thelitwitch.com/?p=6323
The above is the "Bottom Line" from the review I posted on my blog, The Lit Witch. Iago is my favorite Shakespearean villain, so I was anxious to get to this book when I heard about it. It was good in many ways, but fell apart in the final third. My full discussion of why and how can be found here: http://www.thelitwitch.com/?p=6323
October 19, 2012
In Iago: A Novel, David Snodin approaches Shakespeare's most famous villain by imagining his life after the end of Othello. Though he takes some liberties with Shakespeare's play, the problem Snodin approaches in the novel is the problem of the end of the play: what is Iago's motivation? However, once we get an inkling of Iago's motivations, it's a bit of a letdown. Snodin’s Iago ultimately cannot measure up to the Shakespearean version. There is nothing necessarily wrong with falling short of the bard, but the book also doesn’t develop into an interesting historical thriller in its own right.
May 23, 2012
I cannot think of a work of Shakespeare's that I have not enjoyed and when I received Iago by David Snodin, I was quite enthusiastic. Iago is, in this reviewers opinion, Shakespeare's greatest villain and I have lost count how many times I have read Othello, so I could not wait to see where Snodin would take the character of Iago. Unfortunately I did not care for this book, as much as I had hoped I would, however, I do believe Snodin did an exceptional job with the historical details of the book. While this book did not live up to my expectations, I would recommend it to fans of Shakespeare's Othello
May 1, 2012
It's an audacious but great idea: a sequel to Othello to follow what happens to Iago. But I think if you're going to be that audacious, you better follow through with something better than this. Rather annoyingly, he uses tons of Italian phrases. I speak some Italian, and I still found it pretentious and overdone. But more importantly, the plot is kind of rambling and silly and the female protagonist so predictable. And Iago, one of the most notorious villains in the history of literature, an illiterate dragging these people around the country ... it just doesn't ring true to me.
March 16, 2012
This novel has prompted me to do some research on early 16th century Venice, something that often happens when I read a book labeled as historical fiction...is the book mostly fiction or history? In this case of "Iago" I suspect that the historical designation of the book relies primarily in the setting. I shall endeavor to find out...was Venice a democracy? Was there a real Il Terrible? What was the actual relationship between Venice and Cyprus? While I didn't love the book, it was of some interest to me.
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