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First published June 10, 2025
He commits his curiosities, his stirrings, his whims to paper, loose sheets he tucks beneath his mattress.
Whatever it takes, he thinks, he'll do it. Anything, to be magnificent.
He turns toward the piazza. It is bright and crowded, as it is every day. This city has nothing for him. No amount of his cousin's gold will change that.
He has to leave. Florence is sick, he thinks. He sees it now: God has made His judgement on this marble Sodom.
Save the monuments, and let the plague take the rest.
Can one put a price on peace? No, he thinks. Everyone would balk at the cost. No one would want it.A part of my heart has been fixated on this book since I first caught a glimpse of the cover, and I don't even go for men that much anymore. Once I got ahold of a physical copy, it accompanied me to musical waiting lines and restaurant bars, and when my oral chemo went awry and forced me to bed, I without hesitation snatched the eBook as well so as to not break up the momentum simply because I couldn't sit up. As one can see, I didn't come out of this read with a five star. However, I still finished sustained, and it's good fortune I am of long habit of puzzling out the post coital literacies, else I'd have no means of convincing others that yet another newfangled white guy stuff with a scandalously demure cover is worth it. Trust me.
"And the pope lives too. Do you aim to hang him as well?"Through years of disappointments and reconfigurations of paradigms, I remain inordinately susceptible to a good piece of historical fiction. In that regard, Renaissance Italy has graced my palate from childhood to adulthood , and with da Vinci's journals and promise, however subtle, of queer glory waiting for my eventual commitment at a local library, a work such as this would've had a hard time going unremarked. da Vinci is but one of three significant historical figures, but it is the queer Künstlerroman that ties it all together, from the lofty nudity of a supersubtle Sebastian to the dregs of a sodomite prison house, from the game of principalities of women and their bastards to the nationwide dice rolls of sin and salvation, from the parts we play to cannibalistic perfection and the human, all too human. And, of course, the art, and to hear da Vinci and his compatriots bemoan the passing of the golden age was a balm for my ego and a wonder to my sense of time. Not everyone escapes unscathed, but my previous hint at a certain such of such and such was not without purpose, as this work in the midst of the gay and the rapture ended up scratching a deepseated itch for violence and all its solipsizing munificence. For all that bloodthirstiness, I was pleased at the happy ending, something I didn't realize I needed until it was over and complete.
"Don't tempt me."
There's only one person he knows who can comprehend what has been done, who will want to wound.
"Send a coach to Morba," he says. "Bring my mother back here."
He's now grateful for every missed commission, for those workless years. He needed that time to gather strangers' faces in his notebooks, to witness the madness of a crowd, to see chisels taken to palace escutcheons, to see stonework crumble and fall.The current administration of my country has murdered yet another everyman, and all those who sat and stared at the Black Lives Matter, the pro-Palestine, the NoDAPL and the Occupy are suddenly inspired. In the wake of a plague, after the deluge of thousands seized from hospitals and courtrooms, on the back of a settler state uneasily stirring over its bed of enslavement and rapine, there's something to be said for how much of this life can be found in 15th c. Florence. We've traded private security for panopticon justice, but there is still art, and community, and the things the old do so that the young never have to through it all. I will say that the narrative erred on the side of vacuous repetitiveness at times, and more could have been done to differentiate than a last minute Mephistopheles burst of sacrilegious profundity. Still, for as long as this haunted me, it did not disappoint, and I wish both the work and its author all the best for future endeavors. For those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it, and if da Vinci can survive his interesting times long enough to shake the world forever after, so can I.
Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning
Find someone who's turning
And you will come around
-Neil Young, "Don't Let it Bring You Down"