Reviews, Vol I, Issue II
Shortlisted for
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This clever, very clever, novel is made
out of the stuff of life. Here we have the usual suspects: time, language, love
and art; four of them. And as it is about life, it is also about death.
Time in which the past and future
intertwine in the fleeting present, Love fledging its most admirable redeeming
abilities, Language as the malleable communicator that sometimes fails, Art in
its ability to fascinate and enchant.
With death always lurking…
Its structure is paramount. It has two
strands: one and one, or one and one. They differ from each other in that one
is about Eyes and the other is about Cameras and that the stories are
different. Also in that one is set in today’s world and the other in 15th
Century Ferrara. Both are about looking; looking through disembodied eyes or
through additional devices that come with extended memory. Randomly, the individual
volumes, when printed, will come as Eyes + Cameras or Cameras + Eyes. For the
electronic format randomness has been substituted by repetition. They have
included the two combinations. I fell in that trap since when I thought I was
in the exact middle of the novel, I was faced with its doubling mirror. Was I
supposed to travel back in my reading to its beginning? Or did I feel as if
life had halted and I was left suspended in mid read?
As my first Smith her writing lured my
interest. The two stories are engaging and, though appended and different, they
intertwine through those four elements. Recognizing those elements gives
comfort and bliss. Given the twenty views of my spiraling avatar it should not
be surprising that her literary double helix, the coiling of her themes, and
the pictorial snails added to my reading enjoyment. Smart is also her
exploration of complementing or uniting doubles, particularly in sexuality,
again at the core of life.
But I found a certain unbalance in the
quality of her two narrative strands. The one set in today’s world seemed
sturdier. While her 15th Century setting failed to create the
texture of the Italian Renaissance. For authenticity she has peppered her story
with quotes from Alberti’s On Painting
and from Cennini’s The Craftsman's
Handbook, both of which I have read, but which felt like Museum stickers in
her narrative. She has also included highly apt textual versions of many
beautiful paintings, mostly by the one artist who becomes a protagonist. These
I have tracked in my updates in what became for me like a delightful detective
game in a Museum. But the flavor of the language failed to recreate the aimed
“qualitas” and transport me to a past, and now imagined, age.
I hope her other novels stay in the
present. Smith knows how to capture this.
Reviewed
by Kalliope
Kalliope lives in Madrid, Spain.
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