I read two books recently that I thought perfect blog fodder for their own qualities and strengths. Neither of them were books I knew much about; having decided to read the book on the recommendation of others, I didn't so much as read the blurbs. In both cases I experienced a severe bout of misjudging a book by its cover.
Firstly I misjudged ‘The Birth of Venus’ - a book with a beautiful cover that seems to resonate with classical feeling and that instilled a sense of gravity and good manners in me. I was expecting to mind my Ps and Qs, not try and hide the sexy scenes from fellow passengers on an aeroplane - the sex, passion and vibrancy that lay within were a surprise but of course, aside from the beautiful art and classical imagery, Medici Florence bubbled with whole swathes of very real, loving, feeling, diverse and flawed people. The characters are well crafted, and I particularly liked the comparison of artistic Alessandra with her siblings, none of whom seem to have much in common, as well as her husband Cristoforo. The relationships portrayed are strong, if not always conventional to their peers, and made me value the degree of freedom that we have in modern European society - NOT something I was anticipating from this volume. I do hate giving too much plot away on blogs, but I adored the drawn out nature of Alessandra and the Painter's longing, and was so hopeful for a happily-ever-after tale, despite the fact that it's just not a happily-ever-after book. In short, one of my very best friends bought it for me, impressing upon me that it is her favourite ever book, and I can completely see why. Florence comes alive in this book and Sarah Dunant throws her readers into the midst of it all, providing a sumptuous and moreish experience. I heartily recommend it – ‘The Birth of Venus’ is probably more of a book for girls, but it is completely readable and simply wonderful.
The second book whose cover I misjudged was ‘Perfume’. The mysterious, dark, decadent and - dare I say - seductive cover looks modern, sleek and edgy. I was expecting deception, sophistication, a stiletto or two and perhaps some silk undergarments. And what emerged through the cloud of cigar smoke and plinky-plonky piano in my head when I opened the book? Awkward social outsider Grenouille, born into the overwhelmingly odorous fug that engulfed eighteenth-century Paris. I can safely say I have never read a book like this before. Süskind writes well and has a great imagination - the entire concept behind the book is exceptional - one man with no personal smell and the most sensitive nose ever known to mankind spends his life on a solitary personal trip to understand scent, himself and - ultimately - to create the single most wonderful smell imaginable. Grenouille carries out some unspeakable crimes along the way but I was never able to comprehend entirely how I felt about him. The main reason for this is that the author does not spend time going into detail about any of the deaths in the book, not least the murders, so they are not sensationalised in the way that they are in most other cases – an interesting approach. I urge you to read this book and see if you feel the same sense of uncertainty about the character of Grenouille. Pretty much all I knew about ‘Perfume’ before reading it was that it has a good ending, and I have to say the huge amount of lust in the last pages of the book went some way to meet my initial belief that the book might be quite saucy, but neither a champagne flute nor a boudoir was mentioned...
