Despite composing an entry in my head while walking to the office, I completely forgot to post on a book that I read last week. I blame tryptophan blues.
The book was Susan Vreeland's Girl in Hyacinth Blue, another of the guilty-pleasure-art-historical-fiction novels that I keep coming across and reading as soothing and romantic intervals. This one chronicles the history of a Vermeer, beginning in the present day and journeying backwards to its germination. What you end up with is a very different conception of Vermeer - and "the artist" in general - than in the more famous Girl with a Pearl Earring. (For example, this has what I see as a more realistic view of how Vermeer must have felt about his wife, considering the passel of children they had. On the other hand, the relationship between Vermeer and Griet was far more delicious to read.)
The main story was the impact of the painting on people's lives, specifically why an array of owners felt that they couldn't live without it. Each found what it was they were searching for in the girl. It reminded me that art is a dialogue between the product and the viewer.
So while not the most important or memorable of novels, a sweet way to spend a little bit of time during a busy holiday season...
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