This book is about Renaissance Venice and as such it was immediately a must-read for me. I have had a life-long love affair (bordering on obsession) with Venice and have visited La Serenissima no less than 5 times, with more trips planned for the future, once this lockdown is over. In fact, because this novel also deals with a time where different plagues were almost commonplace, it was also an exercise in comparison between what was done then and now in times of deadly illness. It had me cringing inside more than once (aaargh don't touch them!!!) but of course, "what we know now" and all that.
So this is a book about the Republic of Venice, printing, classical poetry, sexual politics, love, obsession, being a foreigner, psychosis, witchcraft, ghosts, class, religion, race...did I forget anything? Yep there is a lot crammed into the 480-ish pages; no wonder my reading pace was a little off the mark. I found myself questioning why I was struggling with the book, because ostensibly, I was loving every minute of it, but the only thing I can pin-point was the sheer amount of detail and protagonists that were telling this story.
There are two main story threads running through the book: Catullus's letters to his brother Lucius, describing his relationship with his lover Clodia, the muse for his famous 'Lesbia' poetry, and the primary tale of Sosia Simeon and her Filofax of lovers/clients in Venice in the 1470s. Her paths cross with various Venetian nobles and artists, and Bruno, a copyist in a new printing venture. We also see as protagonists Wendolin Speyer (a German printer who is tasked with printing the book of Catullus poems), his new wife Lussetia, Rabino Simeon (Sosia's cuckold husband and a Jewish doctor), Fra Fillipo (an anti-printing, anti-sex, pretty much anti-venetian priest) and Bruno's slightly unhinged sister, Gentilia, who is a nun in the infamous convent of Sant'Angelo di Contorta.
My main criticism in this book is that the frequent change of pov's made the story seem disjointed and hard to follow. I often felt like I was following one character through the maze of calles and canal bridges only to lose them and pick up the trail of another character and shadow them instead. Maybe this was the author's intent, I don't know, but certainly when I did get to the last act of the novel I felt as though I had stepped out from the gloom into the dazzling light and space of Piazza San Marco.
I'm so glad that I did stick around to get that reward, because it was a satisfying pay-off. All the sprawling threads were woven tighter and tighter together and tied off into a neat bow.
So on first glance, it seems like this book shouldn't work - it has too many characters, a sprawling narrative, confusing switches of protagonist and style - but there is also so much here to love. The prose is poetical, the detail is alluring, the characters are strong (although many are horrible or very frustrating people), the setting is vibrant and real and I really did enjoy the plot. This book is like a good stew. When all the ingredients are combined it's wonderful, despite the quality of some of its parts.
Thus, in my mind, this book is best compared to Venice itself: a hot mess of sensual overload and beauty that sits alongside its own stagnant decay. And yes, just like Venice, I want to visit it again someday.