Customer Reviews

The Dance of Geometry

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I thought D.O.G. was wonderful. I was surprised at how much Johannes Vermeer's life would interest me. Made up of three short stories, the first was written as a story told during the younger years of Vermeer's life. The second a journal entry of an acquaintance of Vermeer, and the third written by a Vermeer "copyist" in the present day. I didn't expect the novel to be constructed this way, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.

The writing was beautiful in the way everything was described in terms of "geometry"; where things were placed in relation to one another, how light played on objects and rooms. It was as if the life described was written as Vermeer himself would have seen it.

I think the author very successfully kept the book together with these three very different stories. In one sense, the Vermeer technique was a thread that evolved throughout the novel. For example, one could see how it developed in the first story when Vermeer discovered the books on perspective and his arguments with his teachers about the importance of light, etc. (I chuckled at Vermeer's slow start in his education...his confusion in math--so common for many artists!) Then in "Shifting Surface..." the camera obscura becomes a huge factor in the story. I was especially fascinated by the controversy and damage such an invention would have caused at that time. Then of course, in "Reconstruction," the copyist describes in detail how the Vermeer painting is created.

The narration was intriguing in that it changed dramatically from one story to the next, but not enough to completely throw the reader off course. Whereas the first narration was a passive observation of events, the second was someone's journal, written in the first person. Third was narrated by a man in modern times, again in first person. I have my own ideas as to who the narrators might have been but the point I make is that I enjoy the fact that D.O.G. raises some of these questions and forces the reader to make his/her own interpretations.

Each story drew me in...I loved reading about Vermeer's young life, his close relationships with his father and sister. His desire for Catherina, and his sexual experience in Amsterdam (Who would've guessed that such an incident would happen in Amsterdam?!) "The Shifting Surface of Desire" was excellent. De Monconys? experience of walking through Van Ruijven's collection of Vermeer paintings was awesome. The descriptions alone made me want to re-visit the work myself. Of course, Borry's invention of the photographic negative was exciting and shocking in terms of the fear it caused in the Guild. Even "Reconstruction" drew me in. I was a little confused by the flashback-chronology...and needed to reread a bit to discern what Sophie's part was in the grand picture. One thing I liked in this story was how it would jump from John's narration, to Maritje's narration. At first I thought John was putting himself in her shoes, so that he could accurately copy the painting ("The Music Lesson"), but then I sort of forgot about John and it read like the "spirit" of Maritje, which lived on in the painting, throughout the years and the hands through which it passed. Very cool in the fact that it kept Monconys' story going from "Shifting Surface..." Also it was interesting how the actual reproduction of the painting was in relation to this growing love affair/mystery between John and Sophie. The "Reprise" at the end was a fitting way to end the novel about Vermeer, I won't go into detail here. Just read it.

One thing I have to add here is that I'm in awe of how much research and imagination it took to write something like this. It completely took me in and I felt as if the novel was written by a person who actually lived in Delft and knew Vermeer intimately. I guess that's one of the objectives of historical fiction, but I'm still amazed! Definitely a great read.

Reading Brian Howell's new novel "The Dance of Geometry" took me on a journey in time to 17th century Holland. Through the author's skillful handling of dialogue, description, and explanation of artistic concepts of that period, I experienced the artistic, political, and social thoughts of a fascinating time for art and artists.

Howell integrates the known reality of the period with his imagination, demonstrating his gifts as a storyteller. He combines Vermeer's growth as an artist,his interest in the theories of perspective and space, his personal life, and his fascinating teachers with a plot that is brimming with intrigue and surprising events. A contemporary story about art forgery woven into this tale adds to the colorful mix.

Provocative questions of ethical artistry, the role of the artist, the illusions of the eye, and the power of human connection flow through this book like the clarifying yet remote light of a Vermeer painting.

For those who are unfamiliar with this period in history, there are several pages at the back of the book with explanations of the personalities, artistic terms, and words from Dutch life.

This is a masterful tale that has all the elements of great drama. It is fast paced and thought provoking. The characters are strong and invite our emotions, the plot takes unexpected turns, the setting is exotic, and the story is immersed in fact and fiction wavering between reality and illusion.

I didn't necessarily need to buy a larger book with a lot of pictures in order to read Brian Howell's The Dance of Geometry, but I did, and I'm glad. Throughout Dance are references to specific paintings by Seventeenth Century Dutch artist Johannes Vermeer. Howell's descriptive skills are up to the task of conjuring these images, but the images themselves are worth having at hand, for reference and, of course, for the pleasure of looking at them.

The paintings are the connecting fibers for the three major sections of Dance. The first, "Johannes," is a biographical fantasy of Vermeer's childhood. According to Howell, he was an obedient but dreamy child who registered the gaudy and raunchy life swirling around him in his father's inn, the streets and buildings of Delft, and especially the light that revealed it all to him. This section also serves to introduce another iconic object that fuses the novel's sections together: the camera obscura. This gadget was a scientist's fascinating toy, and became one of the painter's tools.

The second section, called "The Shifting Surface of Desire," is, despite a title suggesting lurid images of nudity, more of a scientific thriller. I don't wish to give away too much detail, but I can say that it postulates the emergence of a certain advance in technology two centuries prior to its historical emergence. That technology creates turmoil, political struggle, and murder. This is not the dreamy realm of the first section. Vermeer is a central figure, now at the height of his powers, deeply involved in his society. He plays a role in the terrible turn of events we watch unfold.

The third section, "Recontruction," leaps into the present. A man makes a "copy" of Vermeer's "The Music Lesson." This painting has acquired special significance in the course of the novel. The copyist has written what he calls a manual for producing a copy indistinguishable from the original. Mixed with his explanations of technique is the story of why he is making the copy. That story skips in and out of the narrative. It possesses its own sense of danger and intrigue, a sense of impending disaster and loss. Once again, I'm not the one to tell you what happens. For that you need to go to Brian Howell.

Howell has brought attention to the image of the woman's face in the mirror of "The Music Lesson." The face in the mirror turns slightly toward the man to the right, but the woman's head, of which we see the back, may or may not be turned. The face in the mirror seems vague, not clearly defined, even though we know that Vermeer is capable of defining a face very clearly indeed. She is an enigma, an ambiguous presence equal in mystery to the smile of the Mona Lisa. That face is what ultimately turns three sections widely separated in time and style into a single novel.

Brian Howell's novel, like many of his short stories, evokes a strong sense of time and place. His interest in film, the perspective he has gained while living abroad, and his passion for seventeenth-century Dutch art play a role in his creation of a window to the world that one suspects exists just beyond the edge of Vermeer's paintings.

The first section of the novel follows the development of the young artist, who, at times, one fears will not become the master of the works we view from our point in history. The second section, taken from the secret journal of Balthasar de Monconys, tells of the journalist's brief encounter with Vermeer. Monconys' perspective of the real and the painted Delft and its citizens adds motion and intrigue to the characters Vermeer portrays. The final section centers on a copyist's recreation of a Vermeer painting, the imagined reliving of events in his studio, and the personal drama that provides inspiration for the forger.

Each section of the novel can stand, in a manner, on its own, but there is a thread of technique and action that ties the work together and brings Vermeer's world into our own. When one pays a final visit to Vermeer in the reprise, one has a sense of being reconnected to a world that is part of ours but isn't always visible upon first glance.

Certain paintings have the ability to draw one into other worlds and times. Howell's novel effects a similar pull.

Pretty much everything that has been written about Vermeer over the last few years is based on scant historical information and massive speculation. Susan Vreeland's "A Girl in Hyacinth Blue" follows the model of the "Red Violin" fictionalizing the provenance of an "unknown" Vermeer. Tracy Chevalier's "Girl With A Pearl Earring" uses Vermeer as a vehicle to propel what I thought was a pretty heavy-handed and pedestrian coming of age story. Howell's book takes risks the others don't and as a result it's a better book. The three part structure provides an interesting window into Vermeer's craftsmanship, the sources of his inspiration and the cult that has grown up around his small body of work. Even if you've already read one or both of the other two much hyped Vermeer books you'll be glad you read this one. Howell's book is an enviable accomplishment.

Yes, but Brian Howell's The Dance of Geometry is as different as Chevalier's Girl with A Pearl Earring is from Weber's The Music Lesson and as different as Vreeland's Girl in Hyacinth Blue is form the other two.

Here, in The Dance of Geometry we have for the first time Vermeer as the central figure - not seen through another character's eyes. From his childhood and apprenticeship in 17C Holland, Howell deftly takes us into the painter's world - both the physical and the two dimensional world of the paintings.

How the artist's vision grows and how his obsession with geometry develops is as fascinating how the man Vermeer lives his life and the drama that unfolds in these pages.

Howell has painted a luminous story about the master of light. Combining drama, politics, and art, he has done a masterful job. - M.J. Rose - author of Flesh Tones.

There's much to admire about this understated novel. I like the way Howell plays with the different narratives, but I especially like the way that none of his narrators has the faintest idea of what's going on - all the knowledge is with the other characters, and therefore readers have to scavenge about and glean what they can. All of Howell's fiction is unsettling, and the narrators' bafflement is what makes this book an enjoyably unsettling read. While the structure implies metafictional reflections about truth, realism and copying, I was more drawn in by the small touches. I was very interested in the women characters, for example, and loved the idea of them being pinned down in the pictures - all that kind of stuff is great.

I think it's a most accomplished first novel, obviously well written and researched but not flashy despite the postmodern apparatus.

Brian Howell's The Dance of Geometry is a treat for any reader interested in art, art history, and the interplay between literature and art, or just a good book. I can't imagine the amount of research - and the imagination - that has to go into creating these scenes (or imagined scenes) from Vermeer's life in such fine detail. I admire Brian Howell's voice, his word choice and the syntax of his sentences; stylish, erudite, in an older way that made me always want to keep reading for the sheer language alone.

But what a story on top of it! Four stories, actually, separated into three sections and a reprise, where Vermeer himself is afforded a perspective. The use of these different perspectives (or points of view), including multiple narrators in the third part, was deft. It reminded me of an artist gaining different perspectives on his or her subject from different vantage points. And this is how Vermeer, the subject of this gorgeous book, emerges, and yet also how he remains forever at a distance, beyond the narratives and the vanishing points.

I have not made myself a student of Holland, geography or architecture, or Dutch masters of the early 17th century, so I have no reason to know that a towering windmill overlooks the Schiedam Gate in Delft, or that Vermeer was fascinated by vanishing points in De Vries grids, I simply believe it, which is a testament to Howell's detailed work here for us, pulling us right into the book.

After reading more oblique takes on Vermeer, it was interesting to dive right into the man and his life directly.

This is a classy book in a handsome product from a small press.

I really enjoyed this book. I had expected a standard-format novel about Vermeer and his life. Instead, I was delighted to find a triple reflection on the history and mystery of one of Vermeer's works, The Music Lesson.

In the first part, Howell lays down a biographical scenario of the artist's early life--told in a measured voice that is slightly aloof, prone to dreamy fascinations and distractions. It is a voice that could come from the artist, even as it describes the youth who walks with a characteristic slow tread through a word of light, texture and composition. Through his observations, the elements of the painting are arranged and noted but not executed; it is like the treatment of the canvas, the preparation of the pigments, the rough sketch of the concept.

Howell then shifts perspective to the peculiar artistic and scientific period that shaped the painting. This is exposed in a journal entry by a French nobleman who has met the artist in his native Delft and viewed his works, and who witnessed the secret behind the mysterious fate of the painting's young and beautiful subject.

Then, a third shift: the writer jumps ahead in time to the 1980s, to the further adventures of the painting, and the life of girl it features. This is told in the voice of an artist who copies the masterpiece for an art thief.

Ultimately, the story very briefly returns to Vermeer, to his voice and his own final grace note on the painting and the woman captured in it.

The book is well-written; it moves along nicely, and the perspective shift is beautifully done. Furthermore, with its geometrically augmented cover photo of The Music Lesson, it is, physically, an unusually pleasing little volume.

Susan O'Neill
Author
Don't Mean Nothing: Short Stories of Viet Nam
(Ballantine 2001/Black Swan 2002)

The Dance of Geometry is a beautifully woven piece of historical fiction that examines the life and work of the Dutch artist, Johannes Vermeer, and the speculation among some experts that he used a device called a camera obscura to create the images in some of his paintings. This book is well researched and written in sharp and intelligent prose. Howell grabbed my attention at the beginning and held it until the last page. The voices of the various narrators seem amazingly accurate and capture their respective periods perfectly. There is a hint of mystery in how the story is told that gives the novel a nice narrative drive and lifts it above a mere recounting of the events in the painter's life. If you have any interest in Vermeer, this is required reading. If you don't know Vermeer's work, this novel is a great jumping off point to learn more about this fascinating Dutch Master.