Saturday, 28 May 2011

flemish art! conspiracy theories! an unbeatable combination...

Jonathan Lopez, The Man Who Made Vermeers
Terence Morgan, The Master of Bruges
in the middle of Stealing the Mystic Lamb, by Noah Charney
unrelated but recently finished and AWESOME:
Drown, by Junot Diaz (book of lacerating short stories that make you want to curl up and die because we are an evil selfish species who do each other no good and whenever there is the teeniest little flicker of hope that maybe the world is not a terrible terrible place and kindness does exist then SQUASH flicker is gone. but wow boy can write.)
The Magician's Assistant, by Ann Patchett (a very good antidote to the Junot Diaz book, since it is about people managing to forge connections in unlikely places and manages to be both sweet and intelligent without compromising either the sweetness or the intelligence.)

But! we are here to discuss fifteenth century Flanders and all the spicy juicy shit that was going down in the art world. This episode of Nick Hornby Will You Be Our Friend is dedicated to Alexia R., whose book recommendations turned out to be spot on...
The fluffiest of the three books is the Terence Morgan; it purports to be narrated by the Flemish painter Hans Memling, and it weaves a deliciously plausible solution to the English princes-in-the-tower mystery into the known facts (according to my brief review of the Wikipedia article about him...) of Memling's life and all the bigwigs of fifteenth century Burgundy, Flanders, and England. Love. It. I could identify only two problems with this book: 1) the back copy is SO STUPID (it makes it sound like an extraordinarily sloppy historical romance bodice ripper eeeeuuuw) and 2) at least the paperback edition doesn't include a lovely glossy insert of all of Memling's paintings that are clues along the way, a la Da Vinci Code, as to what is going on, but otherwise it is great and fun and clever and totally addictive. When I went to the internet thinking, hunh, I'm SURE someone somewhere has remedied the lack of a companion picture guide, turns out il n'existe pas wtf (at least that I could find), so here, for all your conspiracy theory scratching pleasure, is my little Reader's Companion Guide to The Master Of Bruges. (I'm not going to write about the Jonathan Sanchez book because although juicy it was a re-read, or the Noah Charney book, because I am still eating it whole and it is DELICIOUS).
1. Semi-fact! Yes, Memling probably did apprentice with the master painter Rogier van der Weyden. Can't find anything about whether vdW really was as cantankerous an old bastard as the novel makes out.
2. here's the portrait that vdW (Memling, in the book) painted of Charles, duke of Charolais:
3. Unclear whether Memling actually did military service. I found one website which (sort of sweetly) states, "Contrary to popular belief, Memling did _not_ fight at the Battle of Nancy under Charles the Bold," as if Memling's presence at Nancy is the hot topic on Twitter & Facebook right now.
4. here's a teeny tiny pic of the lefthand side of the triptych which was commissioned by the Spanish ambassador, Francisco de Rojas (pictured). Couldn't find an image of the complete thingy, sadly:
5. Central panel of the "revolutionary" triptych commissioned by Portinari for Sint Jacobskerk:

6. Altarpiece painted for the hospital of St. John:

7. Fact! John Donne was an English diplomat in the court at Bruges for Edward VI, and he commissioned the Donne Triptych, now on display in the National Gallery in London:
7. This is the altarpiece painted for Jan Crabbe, with the image of the Virgin Mary modelled on Marie of Burgundy:
8. The printer William Caxton printed the first book ever printed in English in Bruges. I couldn't find anything on Google re: whether he and Memling ever met, but fifteenth century Bruges can't have been _that_ big a place.
9. Various paintings supposedly featuring Princess Marie as the Virgin Mary:
10. The "Last Judgement" triptych stolen by pirates of the Hanseatic League:
11. the portraits of Lorenzo Nero Palmieri & the Portinaris:

12. I couldn't find any portraits of Edward IV, Richard III, or Elizabeth Woodville by Memling (or any mention of Memling's ever having actually gone to England) but fun! I found a post (on the website of the "Richard III Society," of all places), re: the lack of historical evidence for these portraits, to which Terence Morgan had himself replied, explaining, "I took my information from “Memling’s Portraits” by Till-Holger Borchert (Ludion Press, 2005), where he suggests (pp.55-6) that both Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville were painted by Memling (I added Richard in myself!)." So there.
13. the central panel of the Lubeck altarpiece:
14. and just for fun, last but not least, a link to the Wikipedia rundown on Perkin Warbeck, which I needed to, ahem, refresh my memory: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perkin_Warbeck

OK, now back to Noah Charney and dastardly evil Nazi art thieves...

Thursday, 19 May 2011

Lanchester, Carlisle, Bakewell

John Lanchester, Fragrant Harbour
Greg Carlisle, Elegant Complexity
Sarah Bakewell, How to Live, or a Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer

Sorry sorry sorry have been backlogged for a bit now. Have got terrible case of baby brain: my brain has both shrunk and what little remains of it is now mainly occupied with floppy slushy thoughts about how delicious my baby is, which makes it hard to marshal coherent opinions about books. (I am also suffering from a revival of my addiction to The Office, which is eating into my reading time. but! excuses, excuses).
I did read John Lanchester's Fragrant Harbor, which truth be told was a more than a little bit of a disappointment - I have fetishized his book Debt To Pleasure for so long that I think my expectations are just too high to be able to relax and enjoy anything else he writes (although because of DtP I will forever and ever be bound to read everything he writes just in case he writes another book as good). Fragrant Harbor was a bit pointless - one of those books in which random things keep happening to characters you don't really care about, and before you know about it, the book is over, and you're like, hunh, now which of those characters was I _supposed_ to care about?? Poor, dear John Lanchester.
Also I read half of Greg Carlisle's Elegant Complexity, thanks to my sister's introducing me to the SF public library's Link+ system whereby libraries ALL OVER THE COUNTRY will send you their books for free which just blows my mind. Every time I despair about the inadequacy of public institutions (lack of universal health care, long queues at the post office, the fact that the bus from Santa Rosa takes nearly three hours to get to San Francisco) I will think about the Link+ system and it will make me so so heppy. Elegant Complexity is supposed to be sort of a Cliff Notes for Infinite Jest WHICH I WILL FINISH ONE DAY YES I WILL and I read it up to the point that i had gotten into in Infinite Jest, and thought, you know, I'd enjoy it much more if I just read the damn book already rather than the stylishly unlovely and lumpy boring Cliff Notes version. so there.
But this blog entry will end on a happy note: I finished reading just now Sarah Bakewell's biography, How To Live, or A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer which was lots and lots of fun, even though it did take me a while to get through it, since I tend to read in bed at night and have been particularly prone to falling asleep with my face mashed into the page recently (see above comments re: baby). The chapter organizations (i.e. the twenty attempts at an answer to the question of How To Live) are a bit precious: "Be born," "Pay attention," "Live temperately," "Reflect on everything," etc) but she makes a very compelling case for Montaigne as a proto-humanist, and I think I am going to try and read Montaigne's Essays (as soon as I am done with Infinite Jest haha). He sounds a bit like Samuel Pepys - a voracious chronicler of every random thing that happens to him, a blogger ahead of his time.