Customer Reviews

The Birth of Venus

5 star:		(139)
4 star:		(100)
3 star:		(41)
2 star:		(27)
1 star:		(26)

 

 

Sarah Dunant's "The Birth of Venus" feels similar to Tracy Chevalier's "Girl With a Pearl Earring" and Susan Vreeland's "Girl in the Hyacinth Blue." All three are works of historical fiction that have the ability to convince, albeit fleetingly, that they must be true.

However, "The Birth of Venus" isn't based on the Botticelli masterpiece that still resides in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. It's based on the metaphorical "birth" -- and transformation -- of a girl-turned-woman whose single-mindedness is constantly thwarted by actions which force her to conform to 15th century Florentine society.

I'm not big on novels associated with the feminist school of thought that suggests forbidden romance, in all of its forms, brings liberation. Yet I was blindsided by Dunant's "The Birth of Venus" - especially its socko-ending - coming from an author better known for her crime novels and TV appearances in the United Kingdom.

Dunant's accomplishment: She establishes familiar plot threads about her protagonist, Alessandra. Hers is a page-turning, rebellious story. You start to feel smug because you think you've figured out how everything's going to end. But just when you think you're heading toward a familiar train wreck, Dunant puts you through many unpredictable (but mostly plausible) 90-degree plot turns that are wonderfully intriguing.

"The Birth of Venus" may not be high literature, but it's Dunant's best work to date. Her love for her adopted city of Florence is obvious. She goes out of her way to spin a fictional tale that's rooted in well-researched, historical reality. The "superstars" of the Renaissance make their appearances, but never in a jarring, manipulative or name-dropping way. They're part of the landscape. And if you know the geography of Old Florence, you also know that even today, it's small enough that you can't help running into these guys.

So what keeps this book from perfection? In my view, just two things:

First, modern slang occasionally surfaces that feels incongruent to 21st century readers who've been drawn into a setting that's more than 500 years old. Yeah, I know we're reading a "fictional translation" of Italian narration to English, but it's still a little jarring to read present-day colloquialisms sprinkled throughout a novel that's mostly placid in tone. Contrast this with erotic passages which for the most part, are devoid of crudeness (though at times described a little too self-consciously).

Second, about those erotic passages. There aren't many. They're executed, for the most part, with great sensitivity. I hate sex described in clinical terms. But a couple of times Dunant comes too close to projecting thoughts into Alessandra's narration that feel pretentious, a little too lyrical or metaphorical, even from the voice of an adult who's "looking backward." Do women really string metaphors about sex together, as you read here, even in their most reflective and introspective moments? As a result, what's supposed to "feel" like sexual "liberation" rings a little false. And I still don't get the stuff involving the tattoos (you'll know what I mean when you get to it).

Suspending disbelief is obviously required when great figures creep into a novel. "The Birth of Venus" weaves its "tale" cleverly, but I wish Dunant's Alessandra had gone no further when she describes the return, years later, of the man who remains an important figure in her life.

She beautifully says, "We had always been bound to each other through the power of longing, even when we understood nothing of desire."

I wished Dunant had stopped there. Instead, she plows ahead with the inevitable "scene" that would've been better suggested than described in a way that feels a little forced, posed and "artsy." I became aware of Dunant's writing. And this isn't supposed to happen. A great story is supposed to make you less conscious of great prose.

I'm still baffled about the mysterious man who's never identified by name. We're given a few clues, but he remains a cryptic figure, a brooding and tortured artist who returns years later so worldly and wise. He reads like every woman's fantasy, a Renaissance romantic too good to be true.

In the end, these may be small quibbles.

It may not be necessary to know the "Who's Who" of the Renaissance, e.g., Savonarola, Medici, the whole lot of 'em, and it may not be necessary to walk the streets of present-day Florence to "get" what's in "The Birth of Venus." But they do enhance the enjoyment of a story that's set in one of the world's most romantic cities. I hope readers less familiar with Florentine art and history get the same wallop I did after finishing it.

A helpful tip: remember this book is being told in the first person AND in the past tense. This way, when you reach the final 30 pages of Alessandra's story, you'll realize you're being set up for a twist.

To my relief, it's unpredictable and immensely satisfying. Without giving it away, "The Birth of Venus" closes unconventionally yet beautifully; optimistically yet realistically; quietly yet without being thrown into the throes of depression.

I still prefer non-fiction over fiction. But as I once wrote about another historical novel I equally enjoyed, if more books were written like Dunant's "The Birth of Venus," I'd stop going to the movies.

Alessandra tells her story of Florence during the tight reign of the monk Savonarola, in the form of a memoir, found after her death by fellow sisters in a provincial convent. Living in an age where classic thought and sensibilities are revisited and possessing an acute mind and an acrid tongue, she must resign herself to a more conventional role as a woman of the Renaissance, bound by duty to marry and bear children rather than be the philosopher painter she wishes to be. From the moment she encounters the painter from the North that her father has commissioned to paint the family chapel, she is relentless in seeking him out. While her first desire is to learn the secrets of color and brushwork, she finds herself attracted to the painter in ways she had not expected, and finds herself frustrated in more ways than she bargained when she must follow her appointed path as a Florentine woman.

The plot itself follows a rather straightforward course steered by somewhat predictable but well-crafted characters. Blended expertly with historical details of the age: the reign of the Medici family, the invasion of Florence by France, the paranoia of the city while under the helm of the monk, and the dropping of famous names like Botticelli, Michelangelo, Fra Angelico and Da Vinci, the author presents us with a fictitious view of what life could have been like back in the early 1500s. Alessandra's mindset is indeed, that of a 20th woman, a bit cynical and slightly world-weary for one of such tender years, but this adds to her appeal to the author's intended audience. Overall, the storyline compels one to read on and contains enough hints and little mysteries to keep even the most well-read reader turning the pages.

However, what fails miserably is the author's lack of solving any of the mysteries that she so tantalizingly provides for us. Alessandra fixates on the form of the snake tattooed on the man in the square, so much so that she has one tattooed on her own body---but the reason for her action is muddled and I for one do not understand the actual significance---an act of defiance? Empathy with Eve and her sin? Ironically, the significance of one of the most compelling symbols in the book remains coiled but never unfurled. Similarly, the author hints at the great artist that Alessandra loves and gives us enough clues to make some sort of guess to his identity, but then never actually tells us who he is or if he even existed. We know he is Flemish from the descriptions of the North Sea and the low country. We know he studied anatomy when it was forbidden with the likes of Michelangelo at Santo Spirito. We know that after the fall of Savonarola, he goes off to Rome to escape further persecution. He returns much later, worldly his sexual and artistic techniques honed like a razor, but again, we do not know his identity. Personally, as I read, I assumed he was a creation, but enough of my fellow reviewers have voiced that he was a real historical figure for me to investigate. Lastly, the title, calling to mind Botticelli's masterpiece, has little or nothing to do with the plot. As this book was published in the same time period when books like Vreeland's Girl in Hyacinth Blue and Chevalier's Girl With a Pearl Earring have great popularity, one cannot help but think that the title suggests another imaginative story behind a great work of art. The Birth of Venus, however, is the story of a woman and her duty rather than her act as muse for a great painting or sculpture.

Bottom line: if you are looking for a Girl With a Pearl Earring type confection, you will not find it here. However, if a story told from a woman's perspective, albeit imagined, piques your interest especially told in the colorful velvet world of art and enlightenment of the Renaissance (even in the shadow of Savonarola) you will enjoy undertaking this short journey of duty, love and art.

I'm a busy person so I'm not the type to read a book without being able to put it down, but this one literally had me calling in sick to work to finish. The plot moves fluidly and Dunant has clearly perfected the art of plot twists, but while they keep the reader engaged, most of the characters are (very) sadly two-dimensional and undeveloped.

Alessandra is the youngest of four children in a wealthy family in 15th century Florence, Italy, and while precocious and wildly adventurous, she also has a keen eye for art and a mind spinning with politics and philosophy. When her father brings home an artist to paint the family's chapel, Alessandra sees an opportunity to learn under a real painter in an unofficial apprenticeship, only to find out that the painter, while handsome and consumed with a fear of Alessandra that only seems to draw her to him, harbors a dark secret.

Surprisingly, despite the fact that the novel is almost completely centered around Alessandra and the painter, very little time is spent developing their relationship or their characters, particularly the painter. They have a couple of scattered trysts, in which their attraction is conveyed in some manner or another. But they never fully explore one another. Alessandra never really grows up and learns anything, and while clearly meant to be a feministic thrust in a time of subordinance for women (loosely, I believe, based on Laura Cereta), she had absolutely no confidence in her own principles. She demanded equal treatment as an intellect, but her philosophical spoutings were less about philosophy and more about showing everyone that she knew philosophy, and when she wasn't desperately trying to prove herself, she spent the rest of the time obsessing over how she looked.

As for the painter, his character is wonderfully complex, but Dunant never fully explores him. When he has a nervous breakdown and Alessandra comes to comfort him, we anticipate a new step in their relationship, an evolution of their characters. But then Alessandra starts doing her stupid "philosophical" spouting again!

To be fair, there were very touching moments that literally left me breathless, and a few of the characters were more developed than Alessandra. So on the whole, I think that if Dunant had simply spent more time developing the characters, the book would have gone down in history as a literary masterpiece. But as it stands, while it's highly entertaining and a great vacation read, it is not a literary novel and does not do much in the way of making you think.

Sarah Dunant has created, quite simply, a beautiful and engaging novel about art and Florence. At its heart, The Birth of Venus is a story of longing and love, but the multilayered poltical, religious and familial storylines bring a richness to the reader that no ordinary romantic story could possibly deliver. Add to that a subtle discourse of gender roles and some history of the Florentine art movement and The Birth of Venus is a sure winner.

Alessandra is the youngest daughter of a well-heeled family in Medici Florence of the late fifteenth century. She has a passion for learning (typically not encouraged in women of the time), a blossoming artistic talent and no interest in fulfilling her typical role and getting married. She just wants to be free of society's constraints so she can paint.

Then, when a young and reticent painter arrives to paint the frescoes on her family's chapel, her life begins to change irrevocably. Against the backdrop of a Florence where religious fundamentalism and a brutal crackdown on art and luxury are changing the face of the city, Alessandra finds herself caught between her own interests and society's expectations.

With an extraordinary sense of character and a writing style that brings and immediacy, vibrancy and life to Florence, Sarah Dunant has penned a truly remarkable novel that should stand for years as the premier novel of Florence and art.

The Birth of Venus is a fun, engaging and wonderful novel. Highly recommended for fans of history, art, Italy or human drama.

I wish I could have given this one a 4.5. It was better than a 4 but not quite worthy of a 5. 5s are saved for the classics.
Anyway, this is one of the best books I've ever read. It had more twists and turns than a maze!! Just when you thought her (Alessandra Cecchi) life couldn't get any weirder, it does.
It's set in Florence in 1492. Alessandra is nearly 15 when her father brings home a painter. Since she herself is an artist, she wants to meet him. But unfortunately, their relationship is severed when the French invade Florence. You see, she told her mother that if the French did invade, she'd marry to avoid being put in a convent. She decides to marry 50 something Cristoforo Langella and soon discovers that neither Cristoforo nor the painter are who they appear to be...
It has sex, murder, suspense, adultery, sodomy. What more could a person ask for??
It's highly recommended if you're a fan of fiction novels.

I will admit that I am a historical fiction snob. The story has to be original, and yet captivating, with interesting characters while staying true to the time period.

I will give Sarah Dunant that her writing is very well done. She has vivid descriptions of 15th Century Florence and the lives of her characters. I also enjoyed her observations on how women were viewed at the time, while learning a bit more about the time period than I had originally.

What bothered me about this story was that at times, the characters and the dialogue seemed forced. They were one-dimensional and occasionally cliched--the brainy girl who wants to "defy the times", the vain sister, the helpful mother, etc.

Not to mention, I don't think twenty-first century dialogue such as "whoa" and "yeah" were used at that time.

I also don't mind sex scenes in books. However, you can use a Margaret Atwood technique of saying the least while actually saying the most, or the Anais Nin style of sounding artful.

Sarah Dunant is a bit of an Anais Nin hopeful. She tries to make the scenes sound lyrical, but really just trite, over-the-top, and as if they should be in a Harlequin Romance novel. As a previous reviewer stated, she dragged these scenes on until they became too much.

I know that this book was very well received and there is some merit within the pages. However, this is a shell of a book. The ingredients are almost there but just miss the target.

If you want some light reading about Florence, then this book is for you. However, if you are easily offended by graphic violence or sex scenes, or if you want some more in-depth reading about Florence, stay far away!

And, if you are dissapointed in this, read any one of Tracy Chevallier's books!

Although I found The Birth of Venus to be a fascinating account of an historical era, I also found it to be a disappointing personal story. Many relationships in the story are explored but few if any deepen or resolve themselves or result in growth of the characters involved. The pivotal relationship between the main character, Alessandra, and the painter fall far short of the mark - can two people who have only been in each other's company for several hours really kindle a love relationship that lasts through the years? Although it is considered an adult book and perhaps should be, considering the coarse language and sexual imagery, Alessandra has the maturity of a teenager; not surprising since she is only fourteen when the story begins. I found it a bit disconcerting that the first two chapters of the book were written in the present tense (giving it a childlike quality) which was then replaced inexplicably with the past tense. The understanding and resolution of Alessandra's relationship with her brothers and mother were weak; her relationship with her husband had potential but still failed to satisfy. Her relationship with her slave was solid and unchanging. I found the opening prologue, set in the future, extremely intriguing, but the explanation at the conclusion seemed implausible, if not downright ridiculous. The historical account of Savonarola's reign in Florence in the 15th century was, however, well done. I had heard of the Bonfire of the Vanities and the way that the author leads you to this historical event was entirely believable. The political issues of the times, though glossed over, were presented and various cultural elements of the era such as etiquette, medicine, clothing, food, social structure, and religious and social customs were woven into the fabric of the book. One exception to the plethora of details, however, was the art of fresco painting - a skill that requires much practice and is not something that a beginner could do successfully on the first try. Despite the shortcomings I've outlined, however, The Birth of Venus still manages to please many. When I checked out the book at the library, the librarian said, "Ooh, I just loved that book!" To each his own.

This is an excellent book that brings to life the world of Florence of Savonarola's time. The historical context is used to explore both the development of the central character and to expose the character of her family, and other individuals in the book, as they cope in different ways with the pressure of the changing regimes. Under this romping tale Sarah Dunant also explores the role of art in 16 century Florence and the way artists fit in with the expectation and demands of patrons both individual and institutional. However the themes of individuality, religion, community and sexuality that underpin the story never detract from the strength of the storyline itself.

Reading the `Birth of Venus" then inspired me to read George Eliot's `Romala" written nearly 150 years earlier but with an almost identical setting. Both heroines are independent and strongly willed characters who enter into equally disappointing marriages.

Both books are eminently readable and enjoyable - reading both adds to the appreciation of the other!

I am a fan of Sarah Dunant, having read and enjoyed both Mapping the Edge and Trangressions, so I was enthusiastic about this novel. Unfortunately, I was disappointed. The protagonist, Alessandra, is not sympathetic and it's very difficult to bring oneself to care about her struggles. The novel does have a few redeeming qualities - Dunant's skill with words and her knowledge of Florence. Her descriptions of life in Renaissance Florence are fascinating and carried me through the novel even when I had lost patience with the narrative. In fact, all of the characters are one-dimensional and uninteresting. Dunant is definitely a skilled writer but this book is not her best.

I almost put this one down. The Birth of Venus, for me at least, got off to a kind of slow start. The story of Alessandra, a young woman in turbulent Florence dragged at first, but then, somewhere about 100 pages in, I couldn't put it down--the story got juicy, a little twisted, interesting. What kept me going, really, were the opening paragraphs, which tell the story of a recently deceased nun, who, upon her death, reveals something no one knew of her in life--that her torso was covered with a huge, serpent shaped tatoo. The suspense of what exactly what that was, and how it came about kept me reading Alessandra's story and I am glad I persevered. The Birth of Venus is an enjoyable story--a quick read that once you get into, you won't be able to put down.