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La luz negra
Esta es una novela sobre falsificadores y falsarios, con personajes reales que parecen de ficción. La narradora, una crítica de arte que trabajó para una tasadora por cuyas manos pasaban obras falsificadas, relata una historia singular, aunque advierte: «No esperen nombres, estadísticas, fechas. Lo sólido se me escapa, solo queda entre mis dedos una atmósfera imprecisa, técnicamente soy una impresionista de la vieja escuela. Además, todos estos años en el mundo del arte me han vuelto un ser desconfiado. Sospecho en especial de los historiadores que con sus datos precisos y notas heladas a pie de página ejercen sobre el lector una coerción siniestra. Le dicen: “Esto fue así.” A esta altura de mi vida yo aprecio las gentilezas, prefiero que me digan: “Supongamos que así sucedió.”»
En el centro de la trama hay un personaje llamado la Negra, que falsifica lienzos de la pintora Mariette Lydis, retratista de la alta sociedad bonaerense. Aparecen también un lugar llamado Hotel Melancólico en el que viven varios artistas, y una película de culto sobre beatniks bonaerenses en la que asoma la Negra, figura escurridiza donde las haya...
Esta es una novela sobre el arte y la vida, sobre el engaño y la manipulación, sobre la realidad y la ficción, sobre lo vivido y lo contado; una narración sinuosa, enigmática y envolvente que seduce y atrapa. Tras deslumbrar a la crítica con El nervio óptico, María Gainza vuelve a tomar el mundo de la pintura como punto de partida y despliega de nuevo su inusitado talento en una obra magnética.
«Una voz narrativa que parece capaz de todas las proezas estilísticas» (Ernesto Montequín).
«Una voz sorprendente» (Qué Leer).
«Nueva y emocionante voz» (Cees Nooteboom)..
En el centro de la trama hay un personaje llamado la Negra, que falsifica lienzos de la pintora Mariette Lydis, retratista de la alta sociedad bonaerense. Aparecen también un lugar llamado Hotel Melancólico en el que viven varios artistas, y una película de culto sobre beatniks bonaerenses en la que asoma la Negra, figura escurridiza donde las haya...
Esta es una novela sobre el arte y la vida, sobre el engaño y la manipulación, sobre la realidad y la ficción, sobre lo vivido y lo contado; una narración sinuosa, enigmática y envolvente que seduce y atrapa. Tras deslumbrar a la crítica con El nervio óptico, María Gainza vuelve a tomar el mundo de la pintura como punto de partida y despliega de nuevo su inusitado talento en una obra magnética.
«Una voz narrativa que parece capaz de todas las proezas estilísticas» (Ernesto Montequín).
«Una voz sorprendente» (Qué Leer).
«Nueva y emocionante voz» (Cees Nooteboom)..
144 pages, Paperback
First published October 10, 2018
185 people are currently reading
7283 people want to read
About the author
María Gainza
12 books345 followersMaría Gainza nació en Buenos Aires. Trabajó en la corresponsalía de The New York Times en Buenos Aires y fue corresponsal de ArtNews. Durante más de diez años fue colaboradora regular de la revista Artforum y del suplemento Radar del diario Página/12. Ha dictado cursos para artistas y talleres de crítica de arte, y fue coeditora de la colección sobre arte argentino «Los Sentidos», de Adriana Hidalgo Editora. En 2011 publicó Textos elegidos, una selección de sus notas y ensayos sobre arte argentino. El nervio óptico, su primera incursión en la narrativa, ha sido traducida a diez idiomas y fue recibida con entusiasmo por la crítica: «Flamante primera novela» (Ana Wajszczuk, Página/12); «Se cuenta entre lo más trascendental (amén de íntimo y delicado) que he leído en el género en los últimos tiempos» (Christopher Domínguez, El Universal); «Una lectura tan inteligente como inaudita. Una inusitada joya» (Care Santos, El Mundo); «Emocionante» (Aloma Rodríguez, Letras Libres); «Sentida, vivaz, llena de humor. Y justo por eso, seria, pertinente, refrescante» (Javier Montes, ABC); «Un libro insólito, hermoso, en ocasiones delicado y a veces brutal» (Mariana Enriquez); «No hay nada frívolo ni banal en el libro de Gainza, posiblemente uno de los mejores de este año» (Patricio Pron); «Excepcional» (Enrique Vila-Matas); «María Gainza ilustra de forma sumamente lúcida la relación de la fascinante protagonista con el arte y describe imágenes con palabras tan certeras que el lector tiene la impresión de estar junto a ella delante de un cuadro» (Cees Nooteboom).
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 396 reviews
April 11, 2025
Surreal Account of the Unreal
The narrator in "Portrait of an Unknown Lady" is an Argentine art critic working in an auction house, affording her the opportunity to conspire in a network selling forgeries of portraits by the celebrated Mariette Lydis. One day the network collapses and she commits to tracking down the mysterious Renée, the legend responsible for conjuring up the counterfeit masterpieces. This investigation sounds intriguing, promising a look behind the scenes of the art world.
Early on, though, the narrator warns off the reader... "the stuff of my tale has slipped through my fingers, all that remains now is a little of the atmosphere; my techniques are those of the impressionist...I have only distrust for historians coercing the reader with the precision of facts..." And like that, anything goes. There are captivating sections and bizarre characters... but there are just as many seemingly unconnected tangents. You might find yourself adrift at times, hoping you have not missed anything in the confusion.
What is authentic, anyway... in art, in a narrative? This question materializes often here. Those selling the forgeries justify what they do-- claiming the real corruption lies in the practices of those controlling the market. The fake work can be just as meaningful as the original. Impressions can be faulty... whether you are appraising the legitimacy of artwork or judging an unnamed narrator whose irregular smile leads you to suspect her honesty.
Maria Gainza has sketched a curious piece of work here. I did not completely understand it any more than I would an abstract painting or the cryptic lyrics of a brilliant songwriter. "Portrait of an Unknown Lady" is an original experience that both dazzles and confounds. Not an exploration for everyone, but I recommend it if you are up for the adventure.
Thank you Catapult, Counterpoint Press, Soft Skull Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
The narrator in "Portrait of an Unknown Lady" is an Argentine art critic working in an auction house, affording her the opportunity to conspire in a network selling forgeries of portraits by the celebrated Mariette Lydis. One day the network collapses and she commits to tracking down the mysterious Renée, the legend responsible for conjuring up the counterfeit masterpieces. This investigation sounds intriguing, promising a look behind the scenes of the art world.
Early on, though, the narrator warns off the reader... "the stuff of my tale has slipped through my fingers, all that remains now is a little of the atmosphere; my techniques are those of the impressionist...I have only distrust for historians coercing the reader with the precision of facts..." And like that, anything goes. There are captivating sections and bizarre characters... but there are just as many seemingly unconnected tangents. You might find yourself adrift at times, hoping you have not missed anything in the confusion.
What is authentic, anyway... in art, in a narrative? This question materializes often here. Those selling the forgeries justify what they do-- claiming the real corruption lies in the practices of those controlling the market. The fake work can be just as meaningful as the original. Impressions can be faulty... whether you are appraising the legitimacy of artwork or judging an unnamed narrator whose irregular smile leads you to suspect her honesty.
Maria Gainza has sketched a curious piece of work here. I did not completely understand it any more than I would an abstract painting or the cryptic lyrics of a brilliant songwriter. "Portrait of an Unknown Lady" is an original experience that both dazzles and confounds. Not an exploration for everyone, but I recommend it if you are up for the adventure.
Thank you Catapult, Counterpoint Press, Soft Skull Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
May 13, 2022
I have a secret vice that I’ll no longer be able to call secret as I’m about to reveal it here on social media. No, it’s not the bourbon cream… hello, everyone knows about that already! I’m addicted to Cap’n Crunch peanut butter cereal. Sometimes while I’m showering for work in the morning, I fantasize about eating a healthy (okay, unhealthy!) dose of it in the most perfect ceramic bowl with loads of milk. I won’t usually follow through on a work day, however. See, the problem is that the Cap’n provides no staying power. I’m usually famished halfway through the morning. I relish it in the moment, but it’s soon forgotten by whatever part of my brain registers hunger. That’s exactly what happened with this novel. I gobbled down pieces of it with satisfaction, but as soon as I closed the book for several hours, I couldn’t quite recall what I’d read. The thread of the loosely woven plot was quickly lost on me. But then again, that’s perhaps what was intended here. After all, this story is not only about painting and art forgeries; it’s also one that reflects rather aptly on the nature of memory and the methods in which we fill in the gaps of our knowledge about people.
“Any person reading this ought not to expect names, numbers, or dates. The stuff of my tale has slipped through my fingers, all that remains now is a little of the atmosphere; my techniques are those of the impressionist, and not even the neo-kind.”
About a year ago I read María Gainza’s book of short stories, Optic Nerve. While highly impressed with the writing there, I found the narrative plot and the character development slightly lacking. I forgave that more readily given those were shorts. I couldn’t wait for Gainza to share her novel with us. Yet, I stumbled with the same exact problems this time around. That’s enough grumbling for now. You get my point, and I did find much to value here as well. The premise is very promising and could make for a compelling story. Told in the first person, the narrator is an art critic who works in an auction house. When her mentor shares her stories of the forgeries that have passed through the house, the narrator becomes obsessed with one forger in particular: Renée. Renée brilliantly recreated the works of the Austrian-Argentinean painter, Mariette Lydis. The narrator is determined to track down this elusive woman who disappeared once the forgeries were no longer in demand. She attempts to piece together fragments of a life into some sort of biography. It consumes her. While it may seem that the pace quickens during this search, the opposite is true. The story has an episodic feel to it, with plenty of stops for reflection.
“To reconstruct an experience on the basis of images stored in our brains at times borders on hallucination. We do not recover the past, we re-create it: an act of dramaturgy if ever there was one. Memory edits things, colors them, mixes cement with the rainbow, does whatever’s needed to make the story work.”
I hoped right along with her that she would eventually seize the prize by unraveling the mystery of this woman’s life. Whether she succeeds or not is beside the point. It was the journey that served as a much needed balm for the narrator’s grieving heart. We all need a purpose to wake up in the morning and fumble or, better yet, thrive throughout the day. I’m glad I read this and a second glance at all my highlights did pull things together much more clearly. What delighted me most was the Buenos Aires setting and the opportunity to think a bit more about art and literature. Nothing wrong with that, even if it wasn’t the perfect experience!
“It has come to me that one doesn’t write to remember, or to forget, or to find relief, or to cure oneself of some pain. One writes to plumb one’s own depths, to understand what’s inside.”
“Any person reading this ought not to expect names, numbers, or dates. The stuff of my tale has slipped through my fingers, all that remains now is a little of the atmosphere; my techniques are those of the impressionist, and not even the neo-kind.”
About a year ago I read María Gainza’s book of short stories, Optic Nerve. While highly impressed with the writing there, I found the narrative plot and the character development slightly lacking. I forgave that more readily given those were shorts. I couldn’t wait for Gainza to share her novel with us. Yet, I stumbled with the same exact problems this time around. That’s enough grumbling for now. You get my point, and I did find much to value here as well. The premise is very promising and could make for a compelling story. Told in the first person, the narrator is an art critic who works in an auction house. When her mentor shares her stories of the forgeries that have passed through the house, the narrator becomes obsessed with one forger in particular: Renée. Renée brilliantly recreated the works of the Austrian-Argentinean painter, Mariette Lydis. The narrator is determined to track down this elusive woman who disappeared once the forgeries were no longer in demand. She attempts to piece together fragments of a life into some sort of biography. It consumes her. While it may seem that the pace quickens during this search, the opposite is true. The story has an episodic feel to it, with plenty of stops for reflection.
“To reconstruct an experience on the basis of images stored in our brains at times borders on hallucination. We do not recover the past, we re-create it: an act of dramaturgy if ever there was one. Memory edits things, colors them, mixes cement with the rainbow, does whatever’s needed to make the story work.”
I hoped right along with her that she would eventually seize the prize by unraveling the mystery of this woman’s life. Whether she succeeds or not is beside the point. It was the journey that served as a much needed balm for the narrator’s grieving heart. We all need a purpose to wake up in the morning and fumble or, better yet, thrive throughout the day. I’m glad I read this and a second glance at all my highlights did pull things together much more clearly. What delighted me most was the Buenos Aires setting and the opportunity to think a bit more about art and literature. Nothing wrong with that, even if it wasn’t the perfect experience!
“It has come to me that one doesn’t write to remember, or to forget, or to find relief, or to cure oneself of some pain. One writes to plumb one’s own depths, to understand what’s inside.”
November 12, 2018
Me cae súper bien María Gainza, es como leer a una amiga con gran sentido del humor, y que le encanta meter referencias de lectura, de arte, de todo lo bonito del mundo en sus conversaciones. Este libro es más ficción que el anterior suyo, pero no deja de sentirse su carácter y su manera de contar las cosas, claramente basadas en su relación con el arte, con un enfoque buenísimo. Muy recomendado.
November 7, 2024
De certa forma, este livro recordou-me um conto de Cortázar, «Gostamos tanto de Glenda», uma história de obsessão que leva um grupo de admiradores de uma actriz, a tudo fazer para que a sua perfeição seja atingida. Uma reflexão sobre os mitos e como os fazer perdurar na memória colectiva.
«Hotel Melancólico» aborda a obsessão de uma crítica de arte em escrever uma biografia de Negra, uma falsificadora de quadros, através de histórias contadas por outras pessoas, receptáculos de memória; um ponto de partida para uma reflexão sobre as linhas ténues entre original e cópia, bem como a natureza da criação artística, a verdade, a memória e a identidade.
Por vezes, metemo-nos numa personagem e é difícil distinguir a verdade do resto; um mito é uma mistura de poesia e verdade; não será a falsificação a grande obra de arte dos nossos tempos? Até os próprios museus conservam obras de arte falsas devido à sua qualidade intrínseca.
Borges escreveu que, quando gostamos muito de um poema, nos ocorre fazer outro exactamente igual; por seu lado, Proust dizia que, esteticamente, o número de variantes do género humano é tão limitado que, onde quer que estejamos, teremos sempre o prazer de encontrar alguém que julgamos conhecer.
A escrita de María Gainza é recheada de aforismos, citações literárias, musicais e artísticas, adicionando riqueza e interesse a um livro algo caótico e sinuoso.
O que impeliu afinal esta busca? Manter viva uma pessoa, «to keep the ball rolling», como dizia Conrad.
Citação: « [...] um dia aqueles que mais amamos desaparecem e depois apercebemo-nos de que a conversa ficou interrompida. Nesses momentos, não exigimos do passado lindas recordações, basta-nos que sejam recordações, isso chega e sobra.»
Um livro que é uma mise en abyme da arte e da memória.
«Hotel Melancólico» aborda a obsessão de uma crítica de arte em escrever uma biografia de Negra, uma falsificadora de quadros, através de histórias contadas por outras pessoas, receptáculos de memória; um ponto de partida para uma reflexão sobre as linhas ténues entre original e cópia, bem como a natureza da criação artística, a verdade, a memória e a identidade.
Por vezes, metemo-nos numa personagem e é difícil distinguir a verdade do resto; um mito é uma mistura de poesia e verdade; não será a falsificação a grande obra de arte dos nossos tempos? Até os próprios museus conservam obras de arte falsas devido à sua qualidade intrínseca.
Borges escreveu que, quando gostamos muito de um poema, nos ocorre fazer outro exactamente igual; por seu lado, Proust dizia que, esteticamente, o número de variantes do género humano é tão limitado que, onde quer que estejamos, teremos sempre o prazer de encontrar alguém que julgamos conhecer.
A escrita de María Gainza é recheada de aforismos, citações literárias, musicais e artísticas, adicionando riqueza e interesse a um livro algo caótico e sinuoso.
O que impeliu afinal esta busca? Manter viva uma pessoa, «to keep the ball rolling», como dizia Conrad.
Citação: « [...] um dia aqueles que mais amamos desaparecem e depois apercebemo-nos de que a conversa ficou interrompida. Nesses momentos, não exigimos do passado lindas recordações, basta-nos que sejam recordações, isso chega e sobra.»
Um livro que é uma mise en abyme da arte e da memória.
May 25, 2022
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3 ¼ stars
Having found Optic Nerve to be a puzzling yet thoroughly compelling book I was very much eager to sink my teeth into Portrait of an Unknown Lady. Whereas Optic Nerve loosely ties together the unnamed narrator’s meditations on history and art, in Portrait of an Unknown Lady Gainza contains the narrator’s reflections and inquiries into these subjects into what appears to be more of a semblance of a plot. This by no means results in a plot-driven narrative, as there is no urgency to the protagonist’s introspections. Her ruminations are given a freewheeling tempo, one that reminded me of lazy summer days from my childhood. In spite of her philosophical speculations, the narrator’s internal meanderings had a buoyancy to them that saved them from coming across as verbose or laboured.
Set in Buenos Aires the narrator of Portrait of an Unknown Lady is an auction house employee who follows her mentor into the more shady recesses of the art world. When her mentor dies our narrator feels lost, lacking purpose, and direction. She eventually finds solace in rejoining the world she’d left behind, as she begins to search for the identity of a forger, best known for their Mariette Lydis forgeries. In her investigation of this unknown person, the narrator finds herself considering just what a forgery is and whether there is a thing as ‘authenticity’. The first quarter of this slim volume was certainly engrossing as I found the narrator’s recollections of her early days on her job and her relationship with her mentor interesting indeed. As the book progresses however I found myself bored at times. The narrative at times seemed to stray away from its original plot so I found myself forgetting that there was a plot in the first place. I would have probably preferred a more experimental and unconfined narrative, In Optic Nerve, for example, each chapter was very much self-contained, whereas here we have this overarching storyline that never comes to the fore. Still, I always love reading about art, and Gainza demonstrates a vast knowledge of this subject. I liked reading her impressions of certain artists or art movements and the insight she gives into the more administrative aspects of the art world. Gainza is as adroit and insightful as ever but overall Portrait of an Unknown Lady left me wanting more. The snapshot-like stories that make-up Optic Nerve stayed with me longer, as they captured in vivid detail the life of an artist and a moment from the narrator’s own life. The parallelism between her experiences and those of the people she discusses gave the narrative further dimension. Here instead we lack that very specific comparative element, and even if identity, loneliness, and authenticity are central themes, both to the protagonist and her subject, well, it resulted in a far looser comparison.
Still, I can see myself returning to this book as a re-read may result in a newfound appreciation for its story. If you are a fan of Gainza or authors such as Rachel Cusk or Jessica Au, I recommend you check out this one for yourself.
3 ¼ stars
“Strange: It has come to me that one doesn’t write to remember, or to forget, or to find relief, or to cure oneself of some pain. One writes to plumb one’s own depths, to understand what’s inside.”
Having found Optic Nerve to be a puzzling yet thoroughly compelling book I was very much eager to sink my teeth into Portrait of an Unknown Lady. Whereas Optic Nerve loosely ties together the unnamed narrator’s meditations on history and art, in Portrait of an Unknown Lady Gainza contains the narrator’s reflections and inquiries into these subjects into what appears to be more of a semblance of a plot. This by no means results in a plot-driven narrative, as there is no urgency to the protagonist’s introspections. Her ruminations are given a freewheeling tempo, one that reminded me of lazy summer days from my childhood. In spite of her philosophical speculations, the narrator’s internal meanderings had a buoyancy to them that saved them from coming across as verbose or laboured.
Set in Buenos Aires the narrator of Portrait of an Unknown Lady is an auction house employee who follows her mentor into the more shady recesses of the art world. When her mentor dies our narrator feels lost, lacking purpose, and direction. She eventually finds solace in rejoining the world she’d left behind, as she begins to search for the identity of a forger, best known for their Mariette Lydis forgeries. In her investigation of this unknown person, the narrator finds herself considering just what a forgery is and whether there is a thing as ‘authenticity’. The first quarter of this slim volume was certainly engrossing as I found the narrator’s recollections of her early days on her job and her relationship with her mentor interesting indeed. As the book progresses however I found myself bored at times. The narrative at times seemed to stray away from its original plot so I found myself forgetting that there was a plot in the first place. I would have probably preferred a more experimental and unconfined narrative, In Optic Nerve, for example, each chapter was very much self-contained, whereas here we have this overarching storyline that never comes to the fore. Still, I always love reading about art, and Gainza demonstrates a vast knowledge of this subject. I liked reading her impressions of certain artists or art movements and the insight she gives into the more administrative aspects of the art world. Gainza is as adroit and insightful as ever but overall Portrait of an Unknown Lady left me wanting more. The snapshot-like stories that make-up Optic Nerve stayed with me longer, as they captured in vivid detail the life of an artist and a moment from the narrator’s own life. The parallelism between her experiences and those of the people she discusses gave the narrative further dimension. Here instead we lack that very specific comparative element, and even if identity, loneliness, and authenticity are central themes, both to the protagonist and her subject, well, it resulted in a far looser comparison.
Still, I can see myself returning to this book as a re-read may result in a newfound appreciation for its story. If you are a fan of Gainza or authors such as Rachel Cusk or Jessica Au, I recommend you check out this one for yourself.
August 14, 2025
Portrait of an Unknown Lady - María Gainza
في هذه النوفيلا؛ موظفة في دار مزادات تتعقب أثر مزور محترف في عالم الفن في بوينس آيرس..
يشاع أنالمزور/ة إمرأة غامضة، تدخل الراوية لمجتمع سري لجامعي الفن وصانعيه عرفته عليها معلمتها،، تطارد الوقائع وتحاول الفصل بينها وبين ما صار أسطورة .
قصة عن الهوس والأصالة وتأمل في أحوال الفن وما يعنيه .
أحببت نوفيلا ماريا غيانزا الأولى "العصب البصري"، كانت مفاجأة ممتعة وفريدة من نوعها.
أحب كيف تخلط الفن بقصصها وكتابتها كلها وهذا ليس بغريب على ناقدة فنية فذة مثلها
في هذه النوفيلا؛ موظفة في دار مزادات تتعقب أثر مزور محترف في عالم الفن في بوينس آيرس..
يشاع أنالمزور/ة إمرأة غامضة، تدخل الراوية لمجتمع سري لجامعي الفن وصانعيه عرفته عليها معلمتها،، تطارد الوقائع وتحاول الفصل بينها وبين ما صار أسطورة .
قصة عن الهوس والأصالة وتأمل في أحوال الفن وما يعنيه .
أحببت نوفيلا ماريا غيانزا الأولى "العصب البصري"، كانت مفاجأة ممتعة وفريدة من نوعها.
أحب كيف تخلط الفن بقصصها وكتابتها كلها وهذا ليس بغريب على ناقدة فنية فذة مثلها
June 10, 2022
Me encanta cómo cuenta las cosas maría gainza. Es graciosa a su manera. Y esa forma de ser graciosa además está cargada de inteligencia y astucia y conocimiento sobre detalles del arte que yo desconozco pero quisiera conocer más. Quiero seguirla leyendo.
February 11, 2023
I've been left feeling a bit lukewarm as regards María Gainza's Portrait of an Unknown Lady. It's one of those cases where the problem is a mix of my perhaps having misjudged what the book would be like and the promotional material for the book promising something other than what the book actually is.
The GoodReads promo opens by describing Portrait of an Unknown Lady as "the captivating story of an auction house employee on the trail of an enigmatic master forger" and goes on to say "In the Buenos Aires art world, a master forger has achieved legendary status. Rumored to be a woman, she seems especially gifted at forging canvases by the painter Mariette Lydis, a portraitist of Argentine high society. But who is this absurdly gifted creator of counterfeits? What motivates her? And what is her link to the community of artists who congregate, night after night, in a strange establishment called the Hotel Melancólico?" So, I was expecting a mystery novel more or less.
Portrait of an Unknown Lady, however, is not a mystery novel in the traditional narrative sense. Instead, it's more an impressionistic novel that gives readers a chance to piece together the unfleshed bones of a story through careful reading. Our unnamed female narrator finds work as the assistant to a woman charged with authenticating paintings for one of Argentina's major banks (she never does work as an auction house employee as far as I can tell). From there we go to the topic of forgeries and a brief-ish description of a group of art students who sometimes make a living by producing forgeries. Throw in the text of an auction catalogue for an artist's memorabilia and minor works that may or may not be forged. Then round things out with vague interviews attempting to pin down the life story of one of those sometimes-forging students years later when it's no longer clear whether she's even alive.
Portrait of an Unknown Lady reminds me a bit of Umberto Eco's Numero Zero—there's a story in there, but it comes in slices without the connecting threads that could weave it into something more substantial. If you're interested in recent Argentine literature, this novel is worth checking out and will give you some interesting moments to turn over once you've finished reading. If your real joy is the mystery genre, this title is likely to disappoint.
I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via Edelweiss+; the opinions are my own.
The GoodReads promo opens by describing Portrait of an Unknown Lady as "the captivating story of an auction house employee on the trail of an enigmatic master forger" and goes on to say "In the Buenos Aires art world, a master forger has achieved legendary status. Rumored to be a woman, she seems especially gifted at forging canvases by the painter Mariette Lydis, a portraitist of Argentine high society. But who is this absurdly gifted creator of counterfeits? What motivates her? And what is her link to the community of artists who congregate, night after night, in a strange establishment called the Hotel Melancólico?" So, I was expecting a mystery novel more or less.
Portrait of an Unknown Lady, however, is not a mystery novel in the traditional narrative sense. Instead, it's more an impressionistic novel that gives readers a chance to piece together the unfleshed bones of a story through careful reading. Our unnamed female narrator finds work as the assistant to a woman charged with authenticating paintings for one of Argentina's major banks (she never does work as an auction house employee as far as I can tell). From there we go to the topic of forgeries and a brief-ish description of a group of art students who sometimes make a living by producing forgeries. Throw in the text of an auction catalogue for an artist's memorabilia and minor works that may or may not be forged. Then round things out with vague interviews attempting to pin down the life story of one of those sometimes-forging students years later when it's no longer clear whether she's even alive.
Portrait of an Unknown Lady reminds me a bit of Umberto Eco's Numero Zero—there's a story in there, but it comes in slices without the connecting threads that could weave it into something more substantial. If you're interested in recent Argentine literature, this novel is worth checking out and will give you some interesting moments to turn over once you've finished reading. If your real joy is the mystery genre, this title is likely to disappoint.
I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via Edelweiss+; the opinions are my own.
September 5, 2025
Curiosamente, apercebi-me de que não escrevemos nem para recordar nem para esquecer, nem sequer para encontrar alívio ou para nos curarmos de um desgosto. Escrevemos para nos auscultarmos, para entendermos o que temos dentro de nós. Pelo menos, foi com essa pulsão que escrevi, como se um estetoscópio percorresse o meu corpo.
María Gainza tem uma forma muito particular não só de incorporar a arte nos seus livros, porque o faz sem pedantismo, como um tema do quotidiano, mas também de dar vida aos pintores que menciona, porque os torna muito reais, pessoas fascinantes mas de carne e osso. Infelizmente, com "Hotel Melancólico" não conseguiu fascinar-me como fez com o "Nervo Ótico", que achei extremamente envolvente e intimista. Está muito bem escrito e desenrola-se em torno de personagens interessantes e excêntricas, mas o modo como está estruturado não me cativou, houve algo que me manteve sempre à distância.
María Gainza tem uma forma muito particular não só de incorporar a arte nos seus livros, porque o faz sem pedantismo, como um tema do quotidiano, mas também de dar vida aos pintores que menciona, porque os torna muito reais, pessoas fascinantes mas de carne e osso. Infelizmente, com "Hotel Melancólico" não conseguiu fascinar-me como fez com o "Nervo Ótico", que achei extremamente envolvente e intimista. Está muito bem escrito e desenrola-se em torno de personagens interessantes e excêntricas, mas o modo como está estruturado não me cativou, houve algo que me manteve sempre à distância.
April 20, 2022
I think I enjoyed this book a tad more than most due to my interest in hybrid works and classics, however, while the writing is wonderful and assured and smooth, and the story intriguing on some level, I felt no emotional attachment to anything the writer explored, neither to the characters nor the plot. And there were parts I skimmed over. Having said that, some beautiful thoughts emerged:
"Memory edits things, colours them, mixes cement with the rainbow, does whatever's needed to make the story work." --this is a story of memory and research and art forgery
"One writes to plumb one's own depths, to understand what's inside."--gorgeous, but there are no depths here, just snippets of memory, and lack of resolve or epiphany
Still, a lovely translation.
"Memory edits things, colours them, mixes cement with the rainbow, does whatever's needed to make the story work." --this is a story of memory and research and art forgery
"One writes to plumb one's own depths, to understand what's inside."--gorgeous, but there are no depths here, just snippets of memory, and lack of resolve or epiphany
Still, a lovely translation.
Read
December 23, 2023Para delatar um ser humano não há nada como a arte, é o detetor de mentiras mais barato que conheço.
p.16
Portanto, do íncio (e anotem mentalmente a frase acima que é só de uma ironia dolorosa): a narradora de Hotel Melancólico inicia a sua carreira como avaliadora de obras de arte (por cunha, claro) e, tão rapidamente como por magia, sobe de tal forma na carreira que, de uma página para outra, acaba envolvida em esquemas de falsificação de alto nível os quais justifica pelo potencial de efabulação que contêm e que, para desgraça maior, a fascinam intelectualmente. A par de uma certa rebeldia e sentimento de justiça que acompanha o ato de enganar os ricos e extravagantes amantes de arte oferecendo-lhes gato por lebre, as histórias que estas obras (falsificadas) acarretam - em particular a história de um grupo de artistas que reside no Hotel Melancólico que dá o nome ao livro - agarram a nossa narradora de tal forma que vão, ao que parece, alimentar este "romance". Daqui em diante, Hotel Melancólico procura ser uma espécie de caixa de Pandora invertida na qual a protagonista esgravata memórias que não são as suas, nem sequer as de alguém que lhe seja próximo, apesar de a narradora no-lo querer dar a entender (logo, que estranho, mas ok...). Não se preocupem, nada disto é spoiler, está tudo na sinopse com um estilo mais aprumado do que o meu. Mas, também não vos revelarei mais deste livro, até porque tudo o que tenho ainda a dizer é muito simples:
Em pleno renascimento, a noção de "imitação" era inexistente - hoje admiramos um Camões (alguns de nós, muito poucos, eu não, particularmente) cuja obra maior começa as armas e os barões assinalados, claramente uma versão de canto as armas e o varão (mas ao Vergílio tanto lhe dava que Camões fizesse copy paste da sua Eneida como não... já era pó nesta altura e também ele tinha andado a repescar nos seus clássicos para aqui chegar) -, pelo que, se Hotel Melancólico estivesse datado de 1400/1500 tudo bem. O certo é que o conceito de "cópia" (estou a tentar ser o menos abrupta possível) é uma noção moderna contemplada no código penal e aquilo que antes se encarava como um empréstimo, um ensinamento que o discípulo tomava, engrandecia e com o qual superava o mestre, é hoje uma ideia absolutamente inaceitável e peregrina. E bem sei que este pequenino livro nos fala de falsificações (por acaso, romantiza a ideia de falsificação artística), mas, precisamente por isso, fiquei a pensar tanto no assunto, e na postura de uma autora que se faz uso da própria experiência para escrever estes títulos inspirados no mundo da arte, que nem sequer estive com mais cuidados. O Bailarino ainda está fresquinho na minha cabeça, minha senhora, lembra-me bem o que li. E depois da primeira ainda vá, se calhar sou eu que estou a fazer confusão, mas à segunda, à terceira frase atirada assim à toa só porque é gira e tal no meio do texto sem fazer sentido, e eu a pensar "onde é que já li isto antes?!"... Não gostei!
Chegar a um livrinho com menos de 150 páginas escrito praticamente com recurso a outras obras - várias, felizmente, com devida menção de autor - assinado por alguém que se considera escritora de moto-próprio, não me caiu nada bem!
Não vale a pena dizer mais nada, julguem por vós próprios a pequena amostra que me dei ainda ao trabalho de compilar:
Hotel Melancólico, María Gainza, D. Quixote, 2019, p. 50:
- É uma oportunidade maravilhosa de fazer o bem - disse a Alfonso, enquanto deslizava o garfo pela língua um pouco mais lentamente do que seria de esperar.
Creio que Alfonso seguia uma conversa imaginária com uma terceira pessoa, porque me respondeu:
- Suponho que a razão pela qual uso bigode é porque assim posso cheirar os meus pecados da noite passada.
O bailarino, de Colum McCann, editora Editorial Bizâncio, 2003, p.234:
Victor por vezes chega a pensar que também ele está a dançar, sempre a bater o pé, ou a abanar a cabeça de um lado para o outro, com os dedos a retorcer a ponta do bigode - A razão por que uso bigode é poder cheirar os pecados da noite anterior! - e antes que deem conta já ele desapareceu.
Hotel Melancólico...p. 26:
As flores são importantes, disse-me o russo quando chegou perto de mim. Quando Prokofiev morreu, não havia flores à venda em Moscovo. Tinham sido todas vendidas para o funeral de Estaline. Linda história, triste história. Seria verdade?
O bailarino..., p.193:
Erik travou conhecimento com Richter, que lhe disse que quando Prokofiev morreu, esgotaram-se as flores à venda em Moscovo. Tinham sido todas compradas para o funeral de Estaline. Richter tocou no funeral, depois percorreu Moscovo a pé para colocar um único ramo de pinheiro na campa de Prokofiev. (É belo, mas será verdade?)
Hotel Melancólico..., p.58
Sonha ser artista, mas os pais opõem-se, sem saberem que, ao fazê-lo, estão a dar à filha o presente da necessidade imprescindível.
O bailarino..., p.63:
Era espancado por causa da dança e, no entanto, continuava a dançar, por isso, uma coisa compensava a outra. (...)eu diria que, espancando-o, negando-lhe a possibilidade de dançar, o pai estava a proporcionar-lhe o dom da necessidade.
p.16
Portanto, do íncio (e anotem mentalmente a frase acima que é só de uma ironia dolorosa): a narradora de Hotel Melancólico inicia a sua carreira como avaliadora de obras de arte (por cunha, claro) e, tão rapidamente como por magia, sobe de tal forma na carreira que, de uma página para outra, acaba envolvida em esquemas de falsificação de alto nível os quais justifica pelo potencial de efabulação que contêm e que, para desgraça maior, a fascinam intelectualmente. A par de uma certa rebeldia e sentimento de justiça que acompanha o ato de enganar os ricos e extravagantes amantes de arte oferecendo-lhes gato por lebre, as histórias que estas obras (falsificadas) acarretam - em particular a história de um grupo de artistas que reside no Hotel Melancólico que dá o nome ao livro - agarram a nossa narradora de tal forma que vão, ao que parece, alimentar este "romance". Daqui em diante, Hotel Melancólico procura ser uma espécie de caixa de Pandora invertida na qual a protagonista esgravata memórias que não são as suas, nem sequer as de alguém que lhe seja próximo, apesar de a narradora no-lo querer dar a entender (logo, que estranho, mas ok...). Não se preocupem, nada disto é spoiler, está tudo na sinopse com um estilo mais aprumado do que o meu. Mas, também não vos revelarei mais deste livro, até porque tudo o que tenho ainda a dizer é muito simples:
Em pleno renascimento, a noção de "imitação" era inexistente - hoje admiramos um Camões (alguns de nós, muito poucos, eu não, particularmente) cuja obra maior começa as armas e os barões assinalados, claramente uma versão de canto as armas e o varão (mas ao Vergílio tanto lhe dava que Camões fizesse copy paste da sua Eneida como não... já era pó nesta altura e também ele tinha andado a repescar nos seus clássicos para aqui chegar) -, pelo que, se Hotel Melancólico estivesse datado de 1400/1500 tudo bem. O certo é que o conceito de "cópia" (estou a tentar ser o menos abrupta possível) é uma noção moderna contemplada no código penal e aquilo que antes se encarava como um empréstimo, um ensinamento que o discípulo tomava, engrandecia e com o qual superava o mestre, é hoje uma ideia absolutamente inaceitável e peregrina. E bem sei que este pequenino livro nos fala de falsificações (por acaso, romantiza a ideia de falsificação artística), mas, precisamente por isso, fiquei a pensar tanto no assunto, e na postura de uma autora que se faz uso da própria experiência para escrever estes títulos inspirados no mundo da arte, que nem sequer estive com mais cuidados. O Bailarino ainda está fresquinho na minha cabeça, minha senhora, lembra-me bem o que li. E depois da primeira ainda vá, se calhar sou eu que estou a fazer confusão, mas à segunda, à terceira frase atirada assim à toa só porque é gira e tal no meio do texto sem fazer sentido, e eu a pensar "onde é que já li isto antes?!"... Não gostei!
Chegar a um livrinho com menos de 150 páginas escrito praticamente com recurso a outras obras - várias, felizmente, com devida menção de autor - assinado por alguém que se considera escritora de moto-próprio, não me caiu nada bem!
Não vale a pena dizer mais nada, julguem por vós próprios a pequena amostra que me dei ainda ao trabalho de compilar:
Hotel Melancólico, María Gainza, D. Quixote, 2019, p. 50:
- É uma oportunidade maravilhosa de fazer o bem - disse a Alfonso, enquanto deslizava o garfo pela língua um pouco mais lentamente do que seria de esperar.
Creio que Alfonso seguia uma conversa imaginária com uma terceira pessoa, porque me respondeu:
- Suponho que a razão pela qual uso bigode é porque assim posso cheirar os meus pecados da noite passada.
O bailarino, de Colum McCann, editora Editorial Bizâncio, 2003, p.234:
Victor por vezes chega a pensar que também ele está a dançar, sempre a bater o pé, ou a abanar a cabeça de um lado para o outro, com os dedos a retorcer a ponta do bigode - A razão por que uso bigode é poder cheirar os pecados da noite anterior! - e antes que deem conta já ele desapareceu.
Hotel Melancólico...p. 26:
As flores são importantes, disse-me o russo quando chegou perto de mim. Quando Prokofiev morreu, não havia flores à venda em Moscovo. Tinham sido todas vendidas para o funeral de Estaline. Linda história, triste história. Seria verdade?
O bailarino..., p.193:
Erik travou conhecimento com Richter, que lhe disse que quando Prokofiev morreu, esgotaram-se as flores à venda em Moscovo. Tinham sido todas compradas para o funeral de Estaline. Richter tocou no funeral, depois percorreu Moscovo a pé para colocar um único ramo de pinheiro na campa de Prokofiev. (É belo, mas será verdade?)
Hotel Melancólico..., p.58
Sonha ser artista, mas os pais opõem-se, sem saberem que, ao fazê-lo, estão a dar à filha o presente da necessidade imprescindível.
O bailarino..., p.63:
Era espancado por causa da dança e, no entanto, continuava a dançar, por isso, uma coisa compensava a outra. (...)eu diria que, espancando-o, negando-lhe a possibilidade de dançar, o pai estava a proporcionar-lhe o dom da necessidade.
May 2, 2022
LA LUZ NEGRA (2018) is a novel about the art world and the art of forgery. The narrator is a dejected art critic who works for an auction house in Buenos Aires. She follows the trail of a mysterious master forger called La Negra who specializes in the works of Mariette Lydis, a real-life Austrian Argentine portrait painter.
La Negra works with a group of bohemian cronies who do part of the work required to sell her perfect forgeries: they forge labels, design catalogs and marketing material and all that is required for the (forged) pieces when they are exhibited in galleries or museums. They even obtain a certificate of authenticity from the art valuations department of a very specialized institution.
La Negra is the most talented and brilliant of all forgers, and an elusive figure as well. Through auction catalogs, interviews and the analysis of criminal cases the narrator tries to investigate the life of La Negra, presumably to write a biography. However she decides against doing so because La Negra is such a slippery character, that it is impossible to write about her. At that point, the novel loses steam, in my opinion.
María Gainza, an experienced art critic herself, dwells on the architecture, art history and the bohemian clique of Buenos Aires in the 1960s. Her writing is captivating, her talent for braiding art history with fiction is unrivaled. Her memorable debut novel, The Optic Nerve (2014), which I heartily recommend, is a moving, brilliant piece of auto fiction. This novel seems initially to be a detective story but then, it becomes something else. It becomes an exploration of the art world and its underground, of the concept of authenticity, what is "real" in art. And in life.
LA LUZ NEGRA has been translated into English and will be published next month, with the title PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN LADY. You will find it in Goodreads with that name.
La Negra works with a group of bohemian cronies who do part of the work required to sell her perfect forgeries: they forge labels, design catalogs and marketing material and all that is required for the (forged) pieces when they are exhibited in galleries or museums. They even obtain a certificate of authenticity from the art valuations department of a very specialized institution.
La Negra is the most talented and brilliant of all forgers, and an elusive figure as well. Through auction catalogs, interviews and the analysis of criminal cases the narrator tries to investigate the life of La Negra, presumably to write a biography. However she decides against doing so because La Negra is such a slippery character, that it is impossible to write about her. At that point, the novel loses steam, in my opinion.
María Gainza, an experienced art critic herself, dwells on the architecture, art history and the bohemian clique of Buenos Aires in the 1960s. Her writing is captivating, her talent for braiding art history with fiction is unrivaled. Her memorable debut novel, The Optic Nerve (2014), which I heartily recommend, is a moving, brilliant piece of auto fiction. This novel seems initially to be a detective story but then, it becomes something else. It becomes an exploration of the art world and its underground, of the concept of authenticity, what is "real" in art. And in life.
LA LUZ NEGRA has been translated into English and will be published next month, with the title PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN LADY. You will find it in Goodreads with that name.
December 12, 2022
Me pareció francamente pésimo, aunque tiene algún momento aislado que logra cautivar, sea por la escena o el lenguaje.
La historia es desestructurada, lo que en ciertas ocasiones puede ser algo muy bueno, pero claramente no lo es en este caso: parece querer insistirnos en cuál es el relato que estamos siguiendo, pero la realidad es que relato hay más bien poco. Todo lo que podría haber sido interesante se pierde en un mar de datos y personajes, quizás en la insistencia de una solidez, una exactitud, que la misma narradora alega no perseguir. El resultado es tedioso y aburrido. Me recordó más a hojear artículos de diario que a leer una novela.
Lo que realmente lo volvió insoportable para mí, y lo llevó de lo que podría haber sido un 3/5 a un 2, es el lenguaje. Algunas oraciones sobresalen como un grano reventado; metáforas innecesarias, reflexiones filosóficas casi vacías y, en mi opinión lo más molesto, un sinnúmero de citas de autoridad y referencias. Como mínimo una vez por página (no exagero) la narradora prefacia sus pensamientos con un "hay una famosa frase de" o un "como dicen" o un "recuerdo el pasaje de". Me llamaron la atención desde un principio, pero hacia la mitad del libro ya había encontrado tantos que me empezó a costar naturalizarlos, y cada uno me daba más ganas de abandonar el libro. Llegado un cierto punto empecé a sentirlo como un copypaste, como si la autora hubiera agarrado la sección de frases célebres de Wikipedia y hubiera elegido unas cincuenta para insertar en su novela. Para colmo, junto a las frases armadas vienen los nombres, los poemas, las canciones, las líneas de películas... todo menos la voz propia del libro que uno espera encontrar cuando empieza a leer.
Rescato los cambios en el estilo de prosa; particularmente el catálogo de subasta de las pertenencias de Lydis se me hizo muy lindo. Más allá de eso, es un collage, y en mi opinión uno bastante mal logrado.
La historia es desestructurada, lo que en ciertas ocasiones puede ser algo muy bueno, pero claramente no lo es en este caso: parece querer insistirnos en cuál es el relato que estamos siguiendo, pero la realidad es que relato hay más bien poco. Todo lo que podría haber sido interesante se pierde en un mar de datos y personajes, quizás en la insistencia de una solidez, una exactitud, que la misma narradora alega no perseguir. El resultado es tedioso y aburrido. Me recordó más a hojear artículos de diario que a leer una novela.
Lo que realmente lo volvió insoportable para mí, y lo llevó de lo que podría haber sido un 3/5 a un 2, es el lenguaje. Algunas oraciones sobresalen como un grano reventado; metáforas innecesarias, reflexiones filosóficas casi vacías y, en mi opinión lo más molesto, un sinnúmero de citas de autoridad y referencias. Como mínimo una vez por página (no exagero) la narradora prefacia sus pensamientos con un "hay una famosa frase de" o un "como dicen" o un "recuerdo el pasaje de". Me llamaron la atención desde un principio, pero hacia la mitad del libro ya había encontrado tantos que me empezó a costar naturalizarlos, y cada uno me daba más ganas de abandonar el libro. Llegado un cierto punto empecé a sentirlo como un copypaste, como si la autora hubiera agarrado la sección de frases célebres de Wikipedia y hubiera elegido unas cincuenta para insertar en su novela. Para colmo, junto a las frases armadas vienen los nombres, los poemas, las canciones, las líneas de películas... todo menos la voz propia del libro que uno espera encontrar cuando empieza a leer.
Rescato los cambios en el estilo de prosa; particularmente el catálogo de subasta de las pertenencias de Lydis se me hizo muy lindo. Más allá de eso, es un collage, y en mi opinión uno bastante mal logrado.
September 30, 2020
Linda novelita. Arranca muy bien y después se desinfla un poco. Saber que está basada en personajes reales hizo que pensara todo el tiempo hasta dónde llegaba la ficción.
Ahora quiero saber más de la Negra y el Hotel Melancólico. Me dejó con ganas.
Ahora quiero saber más de la Negra y el Hotel Melancólico. Me dejó con ganas.
February 13, 2022
at last! good sentences! thank god. this novel goes down like a smooth cocktail on a lazy night—slow-moving, warm, and thoughtful. the drifting, piecemeal way that the narrator assembles the facts (or fictions) of the mysterious art forger renée (i believe she calls this method impressionistic) feels like looking back at your own memories through a haze, the way one does after one too many such cocktails: the proxy thrill, the quiet sadness, as if these things had happened to someone else, even a stranger, but a stranger you somehow loved very much. renée is a stranger to our narrator, but not to our narrator's beloved mentor, who prompts her first to go looking. what carries us along here is the intensity of feeling, never exaggerated but simply shown, between the women at the heart of the story. is it gay? sort of. at times PORTRAIT may feel like "a delightful waste of time"—the narrator's words, not mine—but it is delightful, sincerely. at no point was i bored. the final, reflective chapter is a soaring high note, reaching to the untouchable beyond; it elevates what came before it and reminds me that all art is a conversation. in this case, a conversation between women in love. (sort of.)
thanks to netgalley and the publisher for the advance copy.
thanks to netgalley and the publisher for the advance copy.
January 24, 2021
Het was met veel goesting dat ik begon aan de lectuur van “Zwart licht”, de tweede roman van de Argentijnse schrijfster en kunstcriticus María Gainza. Net als in “Oogzenuw” weet ze de lezer quasi onmiddellijk in haar wereld binnen te loodsen. Haar poëtische schrijfstijl, met mooie en ongekunstelde beelden, is herkenbaar, maar de insteek van dit verhaal is helemaal anders. Daar waar haar debuut een reeks autobiografische tranches de vie is met anekdotische uitstapjes in de kunstwereld, speelt “Zwart Licht” zich af in het hart van die kunstwereld.
De jonge kunstcriticus en naamgenoot van de auteur, María, vindt een job in het taxatiebureau van de Banco Ciudad in Buenos Aires. Daar belandt ze onder de hoede van de legendarische Enriqueta Macedo, autoriteit en coryfee in de kunstwereld. Al snel blijkt dat die laatste haar positie als ideale dekmantel gebruikt om mee te werken aan perfecte vervalsingen. Na de plotse dood van haar mentor, gaat María op zoek naar ‘La Negra’, meestervervalser van werken van Mariette Lydis, de Oostenrijks-Argentijnse schilder.
Tot daar valt de logica van het verhaal goed te volgen. Maar daarna neemt Gainza de lezer mee in een wirwar van geruchten, sporen, halve waarheden en mythes tot je niet goed meer weet waaraan of waaraf: “Daar had je het onontwarbare kluwen van poëzie en waarheid waaruit iedere legende is samengesteld.” (p. 97) Ze doet op een onnavolgbare manier en in een meesterlijke schrijfstijl. Ze verandert soms van taalregister, bijvoorbeeld wanneer ze een kunstcatalogus neerschrijft of een rechtszaak aan de hand van stukken uit het dossier reproduceert. Het zijn niet de meest geslaagde passages en ze halen je wat uit de sfeer van het verhaal. Maar ze compenseert dat ruimschoots met de stukjes waarin ze filosofeert over de waarde van echtheid, zowel in een kunstwerk als in een mensenleven. Moét echt altijd beter zijn dan vals? Is een perfecte vervalsing van kunst ook geen kunst op zich?
Om uiteindelijk te stranden bij de vaststelling “(…) dat iemands levensverhaal per definitie onvertelbaar is. Mensen onthouden weinig, soms weten we niet eens meer wat we ‘s ochtends hebben gegeten. Misschien is de werkelijkheid te perfide om te worden overgeleverd.” (p. 150) Dat de drang naar het zoeken en navertellen van de waarheid op zich al een illusie is. Daar sta je dan met je poging om een biografie te schrijven…
Het doet een mens nadenken over waarheid en leugen, de drang naar authenticiteit en het idee dat er een essentie is in een mens die in woorden of in een consistent verhaal te vatten zou zijn. Het bracht mij onbewust bij de ijzersterke scène in de eerste episode van het eerste seizoen van True Detective. Meer bepaald het gesprek in de auto waarin Rust Cohle aan Marty Hart langs zijn neus weg meegeeft hoe hij denkt over mensen als “things that labor under the illusion of having a self, this accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody when, in fact, everybody's nobody.” Gainza verwoordt het fijner en stelt haar levensvragen minder pessimistisch: “De rest zou vanzelf gaan en op een moment in het gesprek zou ik, zonder drama of emotie, alle grote vragen stellen waar ik mee zit: (…) of wat we doen belangrijk is maar wij zelf niet.” (p. 160)
De jonge kunstcriticus en naamgenoot van de auteur, María, vindt een job in het taxatiebureau van de Banco Ciudad in Buenos Aires. Daar belandt ze onder de hoede van de legendarische Enriqueta Macedo, autoriteit en coryfee in de kunstwereld. Al snel blijkt dat die laatste haar positie als ideale dekmantel gebruikt om mee te werken aan perfecte vervalsingen. Na de plotse dood van haar mentor, gaat María op zoek naar ‘La Negra’, meestervervalser van werken van Mariette Lydis, de Oostenrijks-Argentijnse schilder.
Tot daar valt de logica van het verhaal goed te volgen. Maar daarna neemt Gainza de lezer mee in een wirwar van geruchten, sporen, halve waarheden en mythes tot je niet goed meer weet waaraan of waaraf: “Daar had je het onontwarbare kluwen van poëzie en waarheid waaruit iedere legende is samengesteld.” (p. 97) Ze doet op een onnavolgbare manier en in een meesterlijke schrijfstijl. Ze verandert soms van taalregister, bijvoorbeeld wanneer ze een kunstcatalogus neerschrijft of een rechtszaak aan de hand van stukken uit het dossier reproduceert. Het zijn niet de meest geslaagde passages en ze halen je wat uit de sfeer van het verhaal. Maar ze compenseert dat ruimschoots met de stukjes waarin ze filosofeert over de waarde van echtheid, zowel in een kunstwerk als in een mensenleven. Moét echt altijd beter zijn dan vals? Is een perfecte vervalsing van kunst ook geen kunst op zich?
Om uiteindelijk te stranden bij de vaststelling “(…) dat iemands levensverhaal per definitie onvertelbaar is. Mensen onthouden weinig, soms weten we niet eens meer wat we ‘s ochtends hebben gegeten. Misschien is de werkelijkheid te perfide om te worden overgeleverd.” (p. 150) Dat de drang naar het zoeken en navertellen van de waarheid op zich al een illusie is. Daar sta je dan met je poging om een biografie te schrijven…
Het doet een mens nadenken over waarheid en leugen, de drang naar authenticiteit en het idee dat er een essentie is in een mens die in woorden of in een consistent verhaal te vatten zou zijn. Het bracht mij onbewust bij de ijzersterke scène in de eerste episode van het eerste seizoen van True Detective. Meer bepaald het gesprek in de auto waarin Rust Cohle aan Marty Hart langs zijn neus weg meegeeft hoe hij denkt over mensen als “things that labor under the illusion of having a self, this accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody when, in fact, everybody's nobody.” Gainza verwoordt het fijner en stelt haar levensvragen minder pessimistisch: “De rest zou vanzelf gaan en op een moment in het gesprek zou ik, zonder drama of emotie, alle grote vragen stellen waar ik mee zit: (…) of wat we doen belangrijk is maar wij zelf niet.” (p. 160)
April 6, 2022
María Gainza's second novel La Luz Negra published by Anagrama (Spain) in 2018 won the Sor Juan Inés de la Cruz prize. Translated from Spanish into English by Thomas Bunstead, Portrait of an Unknown Lady's release date is March 22nd, 2022.
Thanks to Catapult, Counterpoint Press and Soft Skull Press for providing an eARC via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
The intriguing book cover art design by Wah Ming-Chang definitely hooks one's interest!
María Gainza is both an Argentinian writer and art critic, this background comes to the fore here inducting us into the world of art forgery in 1960s Argentina. Our female protagonist is incidentally also an art critic in Buenos Aires, although what left the deepest impression on her was working under the tutelage of the country's preeminent art authenticator Enriqueta Macedo when she was young. The third intriguing woman is Renée, an elusive renowned art forger, who specialized in counterfeiting the work of Mariette Lydis. Lydis herself had a variety of identities as well. These women are chameleon-like in their ever changing adaptation to their environment.
I thoroughly enjoyed this immersion into the labyrinthine world of paintings, artists, authentication, art. The novel did have many tangential art references and philosophical musings, these sideway jaunts were enjoyable and informative to me. The trio of women central to the story are complex and nuanced, especially the many facets of Renée that emerged through the search. However as hinted by the jacket art, the true face and person seem to be always obscured. Fighting against the status quo, the group of renegades at Hotel Melancholical are contemptuous of the establishment. The novel exudes a noir detective feel.
Interview with the author in El País in Spanish: https://elpais.com/cultura/2019/10/29...
4.25 stars, recommended. After reading this, I think I'll go back and give Optic Nerve another go.
Thanks to Catapult, Counterpoint Press and Soft Skull Press for providing an eARC via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
The intriguing book cover art design by Wah Ming-Chang definitely hooks one's interest!
María Gainza is both an Argentinian writer and art critic, this background comes to the fore here inducting us into the world of art forgery in 1960s Argentina. Our female protagonist is incidentally also an art critic in Buenos Aires, although what left the deepest impression on her was working under the tutelage of the country's preeminent art authenticator Enriqueta Macedo when she was young. The third intriguing woman is Renée, an elusive renowned art forger, who specialized in counterfeiting the work of Mariette Lydis. Lydis herself had a variety of identities as well. These women are chameleon-like in their ever changing adaptation to their environment.
I thoroughly enjoyed this immersion into the labyrinthine world of paintings, artists, authentication, art. The novel did have many tangential art references and philosophical musings, these sideway jaunts were enjoyable and informative to me. The trio of women central to the story are complex and nuanced, especially the many facets of Renée that emerged through the search. However as hinted by the jacket art, the true face and person seem to be always obscured. Fighting against the status quo, the group of renegades at Hotel Melancholical are contemptuous of the establishment. The novel exudes a noir detective feel.
Interview with the author in El País in Spanish: https://elpais.com/cultura/2019/10/29...
4.25 stars, recommended. After reading this, I think I'll go back and give Optic Nerve another go.
August 11, 2022
Some books open up whole worlds of which we were previously unaware, and Gainza's Portrait of an Unknown Lady did this for me. It's a kind of detective caper that purports to look into the life of a mysterious woman who was a master forger of the works of Mariette Lydis (real) in 'the golden age of forgery' in Buenos Aires in the swinging 60s. As part of Melancholical Forgers, Inc, Renee, the legendary forger, hung out with those who admired her and those who resented her for her beauty, brains, talent, and independence and she may even have been immortalized in a 1969 movie--which is also real! In fact, so many interesting real people and facts are mixed with the fictional that this phenomenal book is a kind of revolving door of fiction and fantasy. Once I started looking up some of the people mentioned, I was able to go down so many fascinating rabbit holes. I kind of want to read it again immediately because it is so craftily written, and I'm sure I'd catch more the second time through.
March 28, 2021
3.5. Me gusta la forma de expresión de María Gainza, las líneas geniales que va dejando desperdigadas en el texto como si lo hiciera sin esfuerzo.
Debo acortar que esperaba encontrar la misma emoción que sentí con el Nervio óptimo, el primer libro que leí de ella, y, aunque esta novela corta no es igual de contundente o me hizo sentir de la misma manera, siento que mantiene el adn de la autora, esa que mí me sigue gustando mucho.
Debo acortar que esperaba encontrar la misma emoción que sentí con el Nervio óptimo, el primer libro que leí de ella, y, aunque esta novela corta no es igual de contundente o me hizo sentir de la misma manera, siento que mantiene el adn de la autora, esa que mí me sigue gustando mucho.
October 1, 2019
No me esperaba lo que me encontré, habiendo leído "El nervio óptico", pero celebro a esta Gainza tan parecida a sí misma (el uso de citas, el tema esencial del arte) y tan diferente (de la autoficción a la novela de detectives). Me gusta la plasticidad de lxs autorxs capaces de variar el registro de su narrativa, creo que es una señal de salud en el universo de lo ficcional. Disfruté mucho esta novela. Entretenida, dinámica, con un juego de archivos interesante.
Read
June 4, 2022I can’t believe I was bored by a book about art forgeries!
I gave up at page 58 after which followed 20 pages of descriptions of (real?) articles intended for an auction.
What is the plot of this book? I have no idea. It appears to be of the fantasy genre.
It is entirely possible that it is just way over my head.
I gave up at page 58 after which followed 20 pages of descriptions of (real?) articles intended for an auction.
What is the plot of this book? I have no idea. It appears to be of the fantasy genre.
It is entirely possible that it is just way over my head.
November 25, 2025
There are a number of unknown ladies in this short, baffling novel set in Buenos Aires, Argentina. The result is a number of unfinished, evolving portraits — all of which raise the important question: are they genuine or are they forgeries?
If forgeries: Are they "in the style of" forgeries, or are they an "imitation" of an existing work?
And most important, can a forgery be a real (ie genuine) work of art?
I've run across these intriguing questions before, in non-fiction books and documentaries about art forgery. You see, so much of the art world prices depends on the story behind the piece.
Rating this one 3 stars because I did lose my way from time to time. Perhaps this book was just a little too challenging for me. Challenging and marvellous— Here is what the author says of an elusive master forger she was searching for: "to find her would be to ruin something that I have been unable to define but nevertheless intuit as important."
There is much in this short novel to ponder, and many readers will find it rewarding.
If forgeries: Are they "in the style of" forgeries, or are they an "imitation" of an existing work?
And most important, can a forgery be a real (ie genuine) work of art?
I've run across these intriguing questions before, in non-fiction books and documentaries about art forgery. You see, so much of the art world prices depends on the story behind the piece.
Rating this one 3 stars because I did lose my way from time to time. Perhaps this book was just a little too challenging for me. Challenging and marvellous— Here is what the author says of an elusive master forger she was searching for: "to find her would be to ruin something that I have been unable to define but nevertheless intuit as important."
There is much in this short novel to ponder, and many readers will find it rewarding.
April 29, 2025
En la página 1 supe que Maria Gainza sería mi amiga, disfruto mucho sus metáforas, su humor, su inteligencia. Quiero más!!
April 9, 2021
“No esperen nombres, estadísticas, fechas. Lo sólido se me escapa, solo queda entre mis dedos una atmósfera imprecisa, técnicamente soy una impresionista de la vieja escuela. ”
Tras haber leído El nervio óptico de esta escritora, y leyendo este, tienen la misma temática, la pintura, los cuadros, pero con el agregado de las falsificaciones como punto inflexivo para la construcción de una historia. Pero, como es la casualidad, recientemente leí Moll Flanders, y en el primer capitulo de este libro, La luz negra, la narradora dice haberse inspirado en un procedimiento del siglo XVII que aprendió de ese libro escrito por Daniel Defoe, dije vaya casualidad.
El personaje principal, una joven que logra insertarse en la oficina de tasación del Banco Ciudad. Era considerada la oveja negra de la familia “La verdad es que yo no buscaba establecerme, de hecho mi credo personal consistía en navegar derivando sin atarme a nada ni a nadie, pero mi entorno familiar me consideraba un caso perdido, alguien que en la vida, como mucho, podía algún día llegar a sobresalir cazando mariposas. ” En aquel lugar se tasan las obras de arte, y es por aquí que viene el titulo de la misma, del único artefacto que utilizaban para saber de la autenticidad, una linterna que emitía radiación azul, pero como bien nota, no es negra, sino que en la jerga forense la llaman La Luz Negra, y que es muy frecuente su uso para autentificar objetos. “Para delatar a un ser humano no hay medio como el arte, es el detector de mentiras más barato que conozco». ”
Es una novela que baila en la búsqueda de lo verdadero en el arte, teniendo lo falso como una opción aproximativo en lo autentico. Es toda una suerte de mecanismo para desentrañar el mundo del arte y la vida de los artistas “A veces me pregunto si la falsificación no es la única gran obra del siglo XX. Una novela que mueve entre lo policiaco, lo misterioso y la desconstrucción de la cotidianidad del mundo del arte. “Todas las escuelas fomentan la copia porque no hay otra forma de enseñar arte que no sea imitando al pasado. ”
En lo personal, creo ver una suerte, claro para la autor, el que yo haya leído dos de sus libros en tan poco tiempo, si El nervio óptico, su primer libro leído, que sin importa la buena aceptación de algunos lectores, no me fue del todo bien con el mismo, ahora le toca a La luz negra, teniendo un tema en común, este tuvo mayor acercamiento, no del todo, pero creo que le tendré que darle mas tiempo a ver si en una segunda lectura, sino tendré que ir al Medium que habla el ultimo capitulo.
Tras haber leído El nervio óptico de esta escritora, y leyendo este, tienen la misma temática, la pintura, los cuadros, pero con el agregado de las falsificaciones como punto inflexivo para la construcción de una historia. Pero, como es la casualidad, recientemente leí Moll Flanders, y en el primer capitulo de este libro, La luz negra, la narradora dice haberse inspirado en un procedimiento del siglo XVII que aprendió de ese libro escrito por Daniel Defoe, dije vaya casualidad.
El personaje principal, una joven que logra insertarse en la oficina de tasación del Banco Ciudad. Era considerada la oveja negra de la familia “La verdad es que yo no buscaba establecerme, de hecho mi credo personal consistía en navegar derivando sin atarme a nada ni a nadie, pero mi entorno familiar me consideraba un caso perdido, alguien que en la vida, como mucho, podía algún día llegar a sobresalir cazando mariposas. ” En aquel lugar se tasan las obras de arte, y es por aquí que viene el titulo de la misma, del único artefacto que utilizaban para saber de la autenticidad, una linterna que emitía radiación azul, pero como bien nota, no es negra, sino que en la jerga forense la llaman La Luz Negra, y que es muy frecuente su uso para autentificar objetos. “Para delatar a un ser humano no hay medio como el arte, es el detector de mentiras más barato que conozco». ”
Es una novela que baila en la búsqueda de lo verdadero en el arte, teniendo lo falso como una opción aproximativo en lo autentico. Es toda una suerte de mecanismo para desentrañar el mundo del arte y la vida de los artistas “A veces me pregunto si la falsificación no es la única gran obra del siglo XX. Una novela que mueve entre lo policiaco, lo misterioso y la desconstrucción de la cotidianidad del mundo del arte. “Todas las escuelas fomentan la copia porque no hay otra forma de enseñar arte que no sea imitando al pasado. ”
En lo personal, creo ver una suerte, claro para la autor, el que yo haya leído dos de sus libros en tan poco tiempo, si El nervio óptico, su primer libro leído, que sin importa la buena aceptación de algunos lectores, no me fue del todo bien con el mismo, ahora le toca a La luz negra, teniendo un tema en común, este tuvo mayor acercamiento, no del todo, pero creo que le tendré que darle mas tiempo a ver si en una segunda lectura, sino tendré que ir al Medium que habla el ultimo capitulo.
June 12, 2022
Its surely the sign of a good writer if she can succeed in entertaining in a subject area that I am extremely ignorant about, the art world, and specifically, the fine art of South America in the 1960s.
The nameless describes how she got a job in the Ciudad Bank, working alongside a woman named Enriqueta, a famed art-evaluator, who soon takes the narrator under her wing. Before long, Enriqueta confides in the narrator the outrageous truth; that Enriqueta has been authenticating forged art. The narrator is subsequently given a crash course in the process, and a fortunate thing also, as Enriqueta dies suddenly. The narrator now moves in the same circles as Enriqueta was, with her associates and protégé.
One of them, Renée, has a great ability for imitating paintings and even the style of the painters, so not forgeries as such, but convincing possibilities. The narrator becomes fascinated by the elusive Renée, and determines to track her down, bringing the mystery element to the novel.
Two things appeal particularly. The writing is wonderful. It has a noir-like style to it which enhances the mystery element, yet there is humour, especially in the insight we get into the world of the art critic. In addition it is all played out to a backdrop of the high-society of 1960s Buenos Aires.
The nameless describes how she got a job in the Ciudad Bank, working alongside a woman named Enriqueta, a famed art-evaluator, who soon takes the narrator under her wing. Before long, Enriqueta confides in the narrator the outrageous truth; that Enriqueta has been authenticating forged art. The narrator is subsequently given a crash course in the process, and a fortunate thing also, as Enriqueta dies suddenly. The narrator now moves in the same circles as Enriqueta was, with her associates and protégé.
One of them, Renée, has a great ability for imitating paintings and even the style of the painters, so not forgeries as such, but convincing possibilities. The narrator becomes fascinated by the elusive Renée, and determines to track her down, bringing the mystery element to the novel.
Two things appeal particularly. The writing is wonderful. It has a noir-like style to it which enhances the mystery element, yet there is humour, especially in the insight we get into the world of the art critic. In addition it is all played out to a backdrop of the high-society of 1960s Buenos Aires.
April 3, 2022
Lovely and very ethereal. Did a lot of underlining in this book! Art and forgeries are of particular interest to me so I could see it being a little less entertaining for those who aren't as into the subject matter. But gorgeously written, such vibes.
June 17, 2022
Βαθμολογία: 7/10
Αν και έχω εδώ και αρκετό καιρό το πιο πολυδιαβασμένο και μάλλον καλύτερο βιβλίο της Μαρία Γκάινσα, το "Το οπτικό νεύρο", η πρώτη επαφή με το έργο της έμελλε να είναι με αυτό το αρκετά περίεργο και υβριδικό μυθιστόρημα, που κυκλοφόρησε πριν λίγες μέρες στα ελληνικά από τις εκδόσεις Λέμβος. Η αλήθεια είναι ότι έχω κάπως αντιφατικά συναισθήματα για το ιδιαίτερο αυτό βιβλίο, όπως φαίνεται άλλωστε να έχουν και οι περισσότεροι που το διάβασαν (με βάση αυτά που βλέπω σε Goodreads και άλλες βιβλιοφιλικές ιστοσελίδες). Από τη μια κατάφερε να με... σαγηνεύσει και να με υπνωτίσει -αν μη τι άλλο διάβασα το βιβλίο με σχεδόν μια ανάσα-, από την άλλη όμως αισθάνθηκα ότι δεν υπήρχε κάποιος συγκεκριμένος στόχος, ένα συγκεκριμένο θέμα, το βρήκα λίγο all over the place (που λένε και στο χωριό μου), λίγο μπερδεμένο ως προς της προθέσεις του εδώ κι εκεί, τέλος πάντων δεν νιώθω ότι έπιασα τα πάντα. Υποθέτω ότι η συγγραφέας μιλάει για την τέχνη, την εξαπάτηση, τη μυθοπλασία, τι είναι αληθινό και τι όχι, γενικά ασχολείται με διάφορα πράγματα με αφορμή την τέχνη και ειδικότερα τη ζωγραφική και τον μικρόκοσμό της. Όπως είπα, υπνωτίστηκα από τη γραφή, από τη χειμαρρώδη αφήγηση, με δυσκολία το άφηνα κάτω, όμως δεν μπορώ να πω ότι ένιωσα κάτι για την πλοκή ή τους χαρακτήρες, δεν δέθηκα με κάτι συγκεκριμένο δηλαδή. Με λίγα λόγια, είναι ένα βιβλίο που μου άρεσε, που μου έκανε μια κάποια εντύπωση με τη γραφή, την περίεργη δομή του και την ατμόσφαιρά του, όμως δεν με ξετρέλανε κιόλας. Σίγουρα δεν είναι για όλα τα γούστα. 3,5*
Αν και έχω εδώ και αρκετό καιρό το πιο πολυδιαβασμένο και μάλλον καλύτερο βιβλίο της Μαρία Γκάινσα, το "Το οπτικό νεύρο", η πρώτη επαφή με το έργο της έμελλε να είναι με αυτό το αρκετά περίεργο και υβριδικό μυθιστόρημα, που κυκλοφόρησε πριν λίγες μέρες στα ελληνικά από τις εκδόσεις Λέμβος. Η αλήθεια είναι ότι έχω κάπως αντιφατικά συναισθήματα για το ιδιαίτερο αυτό βιβλίο, όπως φαίνεται άλλωστε να έχουν και οι περισσότεροι που το διάβασαν (με βάση αυτά που βλέπω σε Goodreads και άλλες βιβλιοφιλικές ιστοσελίδες). Από τη μια κατάφερε να με... σαγηνεύσει και να με υπνωτίσει -αν μη τι άλλο διάβασα το βιβλίο με σχεδόν μια ανάσα-, από την άλλη όμως αισθάνθηκα ότι δεν υπήρχε κάποιος συγκεκριμένος στόχος, ένα συγκεκριμένο θέμα, το βρήκα λίγο all over the place (που λένε και στο χωριό μου), λίγο μπερδεμένο ως προς της προθέσεις του εδώ κι εκεί, τέλος πάντων δεν νιώθω ότι έπιασα τα πάντα. Υποθέτω ότι η συγγραφέας μιλάει για την τέχνη, την εξαπάτηση, τη μυθοπλασία, τι είναι αληθινό και τι όχι, γενικά ασχολείται με διάφορα πράγματα με αφορμή την τέχνη και ειδικότερα τη ζωγραφική και τον μικρόκοσμό της. Όπως είπα, υπνωτίστηκα από τη γραφή, από τη χειμαρρώδη αφήγηση, με δυσκολία το άφηνα κάτω, όμως δεν μπορώ να πω ότι ένιωσα κάτι για την πλοκή ή τους χαρακτήρες, δεν δέθηκα με κάτι συγκεκριμένο δηλαδή. Με λίγα λόγια, είναι ένα βιβλίο που μου άρεσε, που μου έκανε μια κάποια εντύπωση με τη γραφή, την περίεργη δομή του και την ατμόσφαιρά του, όμως δεν με ξετρέλανε κιόλας. Σίγουρα δεν είναι για όλα τα γούστα. 3,5*
December 8, 2021
3 stars *may change
I feel like this is one of those books I looked at very briefly and was like, yeah man I gotta read this without knowing anything about it. It’s kind of hard to describe what’s going on. This narrator is totally obsessed with art history and fake paintings and harasses a bunch of random people to get information on a woman who may or may not be dead (because she’s crazy) (and also has no hobbies) to write her book or something. There’s also an entire chapter written as court testimonies and papers and I was going a little insane trying to read it. This is a really spanish book in that “say a whole lot and say nothing at all” kind of way. Stuff happens, stuff doesn’t happen. I guess read it if you want something quite short to pass the time?
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for providing an advanced reader’s copy
I feel like this is one of those books I looked at very briefly and was like, yeah man I gotta read this without knowing anything about it. It’s kind of hard to describe what’s going on. This narrator is totally obsessed with art history and fake paintings and harasses a bunch of random people to get information on a woman who may or may not be dead (because she’s crazy) (and also has no hobbies) to write her book or something. There’s also an entire chapter written as court testimonies and papers and I was going a little insane trying to read it. This is a really spanish book in that “say a whole lot and say nothing at all” kind of way. Stuff happens, stuff doesn’t happen. I guess read it if you want something quite short to pass the time?
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for providing an advanced reader’s copy
May 19, 2022
Did I enjoy this book or was I entertained by it? No. Did I learn something from it? Again no. Do I know what this book was about? Alas, no. I chose it because I thought it was about art forgery, but it merely seems that forged art is mentioned quite a bit. Perhaps I read a different book than all the people who gave it three and four and even five stars. Perhaps this is some sort of magical book whose words morph according to the receptivity of the reader, and I wasn't properly receptive. I kept reading thinking it was just a slow starter and would eventually reveal intriguing depths. Then I kept reading because it was such a short book that I wanted to put paid to it. If you are the author who is reading this, I don't want to distress you. Just consider that I missed the point of your book entirely.
March 29, 2019
Se nota que Gainza sabe. Si bien es cierto que muchas veces resultan excesivas y hasta forzadas, las referencias culturales fueron lo que mi costado esnob más disfrutó de este libro. En una parte incluso cita la canción que canta Baloo en El libro de la selva, lo que por supuesto me sacó una sonrisa.
Sobre la trama no tengo mucho para decir: trata de una mujer relacionada con el mundo del arte que se obsesiona con una falsificadora que desapareció sin dejar rastros. Me gustó especialmente el último capítulo, donde hay un par de reflexiones interesantes. Me llevo la cantidad de obras y autores que no conocía y que estuve investigando a raíz de las referencias mencionadas. Y la confirmación de que esta es una autora para seguir de cerca.
Sobre la trama no tengo mucho para decir: trata de una mujer relacionada con el mundo del arte que se obsesiona con una falsificadora que desapareció sin dejar rastros. Me gustó especialmente el último capítulo, donde hay un par de reflexiones interesantes. Me llevo la cantidad de obras y autores que no conocía y que estuve investigando a raíz de las referencias mencionadas. Y la confirmación de que esta es una autora para seguir de cerca.
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