A richly detailed and immersive historical novel. Absolutely loved it!
I picked this book up after visiting Florence, and it transported me right back. Through Tomasso and his friends, I felt like I was living in the city, surrounded by its art, poetry, and political intrigue.
The author’s love for this time period is evident—every chapter is steeped in detail and admiration for the artists of Renaissance Florence. It was exciting to see Botticelli’s creative process, learn about Ficino, witness the rise of Leonardo da Vinci, befriend Filippino Lippi, and put up with the nerdy yet endearing Angelo Poliziano.
Tomasso’s journey begins with the siege of Volterra, a truly harrowing episode. His path from those dark days, to learning from the good-hearted bishop, to becoming a skilled scribe was fascinating.
His time in Lorenzo de’ Medici’s household was intriguing, though it occasionally felt like it dragged—particularly in the portrayal of Giuliano, who, while likable, didn’t seem particularly compelling (and eveyone was obsessed with him!). The joust scene, however, was exciting and vivid.
I would have loved to see more of Florence’s political maneuverings beyond the glimpses we get (we mostly get to hear about some church-related intrigues about the placement of bishops). That said, the description of the Pazzi conspiracy of 1478 was excellent and a high point.
Tomasso is a sincere and compelling protagonist, and overall, this book offers a wonderfully textured depiction of Renaissance Florence.
***
A few highlights
“To study number, for the sake of study itself, will lead you to the Divine. Forget heaven. To be honest, I have never met anyone who really wants to go there. The true goal of Man is union of the soul with the Divine, and an understanding of number can lead us to that.
Something stirred inside me, some waking thing. All my days I had longed for a good and adequate reason why I should study; these were the words I had waited for.
The Divine, he repeated. What do you think of that for a goal?
I considered it. No image at all came to mind, but at the same time there was a sense of profound peace, a sense of coming safely home.”
*
“The better part of me took consolation in the knowledge that, for all his wealth, Michele Inghirami did not have a Pythagorean humming string. The worse part of me itched to punch him on his fleshy nose. I had always thought that to be good is to be weak; only now was I discovering how much strength it took to behave well, and that I had not strength enough.”
*
“Everything in creation is transitory. The philosopher Marsilio Ficino once said to me that, for a man live in Truth, he must first die to this world. Without doubt I died in June 1472.”
*
“We stayed there for a night, but the next day I requested that the journey be completed, for I could suffer the oppression of fate no longer. It was best to meet it.”
*
“Vespasiano had recovered his breath. 'Somewhere, in amongst the years, I forgot what I wanted. My great desire became divided into many little ones, so that, day by day, my concerns became how to avoid debts, how to win my current case of litigation, how to rise in the guild, how to persuade princes to commission libraries of books from my workshop. And my great desire, which was for knowledge, was covered by a cloud of buzzing, droning, biting ambitions.
..do not do what I have done, which is to put off my studies until tomorrow while I spend today seeing to my affairs. For affairs are like wasps to the pollen of a man's time, a stinging swarm to which there is no end.”
*
“The day you can tell me what I am doing is the day I will tell you how I am doing it,' said Piero.
The way of the wise is to take short cuts to knowledge. The next time I saw the Bishop, I asked him what Piero could have meant.”
*
“To see only the good in a man is to see but a part of him. Surely we should confront reality and look it squarely in the eye?'
Ficino says that to dwell on the good is to give power to the good.”
*
“But hatred did not bound fatherless into creation; it cannot exist alone; hatred is the disfigured son of envy”
*
“If my heart broke at the sight of her, it was not the only one to do so. In its moment of breaking - and it is not the heart that breaks, but its shell - I felt at one with all those disparate fellows in the same condition.”
*
He was Youth, Virtue, Beauty personified.
Straight-backed, perfectly at ease on the high-stepping palfrey, he came slowly down the length of the piazza. Knowing him as a man who preferred solitude to public life, I was in awe of him now. Where any lesser man would have betrayed by a blush or a silly grin either embarrassment or pride, Giuliano, pale and composed, rested his eyes on the image of Minerva ahead and simply rode on. By this act, he honoured the occasion and everyone present.
We have a phrase in Italian: fare bella figura.
Some would say that to cut a fine figure is more important to an Italian than anything else in the universe, save perhaps avoiding damnation. It is possibly true. I notice, for instance, that the English spend more on their furniture than on their clothes, which is why I would rather be in one of their houses than out in their company.
Be that as it may, it would be wrong to suppose that Italians are more concerned with appearance than content. A true artist of la bella figura is in control of himself to the very marrow of his bones: every element of his body, mind and soul is engaged in fine deportment.”
*
“You were born under Cancer: the moon is your ruling planet, which is why you are a lunatic.
I had no doubt that Angelo's was the finer work.
It had that indefinable flash of spirit that we call
'genius'. Whatever such a thing is, it comes from the gods as a reward for the man who works for work's sake and for no personal gain. To work hard, spurred ever on by dissatisfaction with what has been achieved..”
*
“Over the years in the Medici household, my hand had developed in response to the needs of dictation; it had become, without my noticing it, careless and irregular. Though it might please an untutored eye, any fellow scribe would have dismissed it: the letters were badly spaced, ill-formed and finished with quick, thin strokes in the place of true serifs; a lazy hand by a scribe whose opinion of himself was greater than was warranted.
Humbled, I spent time refreshing my craft, for something once known is not necessarily known forever. The way of nature is a way of corruption and decay. Order is a divine force.”
*
“(Raffaello did everything) according to the rules, no matter how arbitrary and obstructive those rules might be. Thus, despite his talents and intelligence, he was destined to achieve little but local fame.
I listened to all his advice and took none.”
*
“..he suddenly asked, 'Do you believe in fate?'
Sometimes. It depends. I believe in fate when things go wrong; in my own capabilities when they go right.
Montesecco smiled and nodded. 'Honestly said and true enough. But do you believe in destiny?'
What is the difference?
'Fate is what happens to you: destiny is what you may fulfil. Fate like death is inevitable, but you can choose your destiny.'
Choose your destiny? Of course you cannot.
'Oh, but you can. Every now and then you have a sign of what lies ahead, and then you can choose whether to go towards it or not.”
*
“..their grief and outrage directed at heaven in a high-pitched keening. But I had no argument with God, only with men.”