Book Review: The Venetian’s Wife, by Nick Bantock
As far as books go, The Venetian’s Wife: A Strangely Sensual Tale of a Renaissance Explorer, a Computer, and a Metamorphosis is like a teenager in the family of literature: it’s not quite a kid’s picture book, but it also isn’t quite a full-grown adult text. Indeed, much of the charm of The Venetian’s Wife comes from the artistic collages, drawings, and photos that surround the text of the story itself.
Said story revolves around a search for a collection of Indian sculptures. Sara Wolfe is drawn into this quest by a mysterious N. Conti, who communicates only by email and seems to have an agenda that isn’t quite what he says it is. The story progresses through their emails back and forth, entries in Sara’s journal, and the occasional comment by Mr. Conti, with the art providing a backdrop and occasional important point.
Unfortunately, there is much in the story that is predictable, for example, the falling-out between Sara and Conti can be seen a mile away, and patching up that rift is almost a non-issue. The ending is also rather unimpressive — it leaves the story floundering and doesn’t wrap up or explain much. I get a sense that there should be some kind of epiphany at the end, either for the reader or for the characters, but that just isn’t evident in the text. I want more closure. In the last quarter or so of the book, Bantock stretches the limits of the journal format well past its breaking point and turns it into full-on narrative and dialogue.
The story in The Venetian’s Wife starts out strong, but it loses its luster. The art is a visual feast, but if it weren’t present this book probably wouldn’t be notable. The book is enjoyable, and a quick read, but it’s not without its flaws. The ending, and the lapse into full-on dialogue that strains the credibility of Sara’s journaling, cut down the score to a 5.
The Venetian’s Wife: A Strangely Sensual Tale of a Renaissance Explorer, a Computer, and a Metamorphosis, by Nick Bantock. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1996. $23. Amazon link.
July 10th, 2007 at 6:50 am
If you’re interested in reviewing future books, there are two I can think of off the top of my head that are worth reading. The first is one of my all-time favorites: High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. The movie with John Cusack was good, but the book is a hundred times better. If you’ve ever had shitty relationships, this book will ring true to you, especially if you’re a guy. The second I just finished recently: Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson. It sums up the insanity of the baby boomers’ drug craze just right.