This was one of those novels that I really wanted to like and that I should have enjoyed tremendously, yet, I struggled with it.
Hear me out: I have a thing (a bit of an obsession) with everything and anything Spanish and/or Latin American. I love Madrid and I am terribly fond of museums, have spent quite a few hours in the Prado museum and am familiar with Diego Velasquez's works. All these elements were present and had centre stage in this novel.
I should have been very fond of our main hero, Englishman Anthony Whitefields, a thirty-something art historian, specialised in Spanish paintings. He has a great fondness of Spain, especially of Madrid and is absolutely obsessed with Velasquez's paintings. He finds himself inadvertently immersed in the pre-revolutionary Spain, where he encounters different echelons of the Spanish society, from old money noblemen to new fascists and dirt poor women, who have to prostitute themselves for survival. Through all these adventures, Anthony Whitefields is a hapless observer, whose main and only focus is to bring to England a newly discovered Velasquez painting.
This novel is a comedy of errors and absurd of sorts, at times satirical and where there's an intense sense of adventure and history happening.
Many aspects of the novel didn't quite gel well and felt contrived. I love art, painting and history, but Whitefields' incessant monologs on Velasquez's paintings and his life were so long, so tedious, even I got bored and skipped over them at times.
Many secondary characters burst into long speeches with lots of unrelated anecdotes, which, after a while, became tedious.
I don't know if it was the translation that failed it, I thought the writing and the tone felt old-fashioned, but not in a good way. It's not even very literary, in the wordy, sophisticated, complex writing kind of way, at least I would I would have admired that. There were no quotable paragraphs, no "wow, this is some good writing" moments.
I've looked up this novel and its author and I was shocked to read that it won one of the richest literary prizes around - the Spanish Premio Planta - worth 600,000 Euro (approx $675,000 US)! Quite incredible, because while this is not terrible, and some aspects are interesting and well researched, it's no literary classic, nor is an easy, funny, quirky read.
This is a novel that could have been great, but it felt to impress and/or entertain.
I've received this novel via NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.