Botticelli's Witness, The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (365 Books, Day 213)

A book on Botticelli produced in conjunction with an exhibition, but still of general interest and relevance.

Botticelli is probably currently the most famous painter from Renaissance Florence-- I mean the most famous who did not also do other things, such as sculpting or goldsmithing-- but it's amazing how little is generally known about him. He lived between 1445 and 1510, and painted several things which are ridiculously famous such as the Birth of Venus, the Primavera, etc., and several things which aren't (I had not known he illustrated an edition of Dante).

The essays included provide a very good biographical overview of Botticelli: what we do know (that he apprenticed with Fra Lippo Lippi, that his father was a tanner), what we don't know (why he is called Botticelli, a nickname which means 'little pot' and which was apparently originally his brother's nickname and spread or something else confusing like that), and what has been debunked (Vasari's biography, which as most contemporary was taken as gospel for generations, is apparently factually inaccurate about the last years of Botticelli's life).

It also gives a good overview of Florentine politics of the time, the reign of Lorenzo de Medici and his attempts to make Florence into the next Athens or Rome fading into the brief reign of the monk Savonarola, who held the famous Bonfire of the Vanities and wished to make Florence the New Jerusalem. Many famous artists and scholars, including Botticelli, followed Savonarola, which has confused later academics; this book argues convincingly that there is not that much difference, in some ways, between one scheme to reform humanity along utopian ideals and another. It also argues convincingly that many of Botticelli's later-period works, due to the changes in his style because of his association with Savonarola, have been inaccurately seen as lesser, and that it's quite possible many of them have not even been properly attributed to him yet.

The plates give a good overview of early Botticelli, with his master Lippi's influence clearly visible; mid-period, the ones everyone has memorized; the few that are known to be late-period, which certainly do look different and are clearly full of even more obscure academic and theological symbolism than the previous (if you think the Primavera is confusing, try the Mystical Crucifixion, yeesh); and the drawings from Dante, which fascinate me by conforming almost perfectly to the not-yet-evolved narrative conventions of the comic strip.

In short, ignore that this is exhibit-related, and find it if you can, if you need a good resource about this painter, his milieu, and how they related to each other, because there is a lot of very useful data packed into a very brief space here, including even rankings of the relative usefulness and accuracy of other books on the subject. This is one of the periods in history I know something about, both from natural inclination and from research for setting fiction in it, and there were things here I had not heard, which was not something I really expected.

Botticelli's Witness, The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (365 Books, Day 213)

A book on Botticelli produced in conjunction with an exhibition, but still of general interest and relevance.

Botticelli is probably currently the most famous painter from Renaissance Florence-- I mean the most famous who did not also do other things, such as sculpting or goldsmithing-- but it's amazing how little is generally known about him. He lived between 1445 and 1510, and painted several things which are ridiculously famous such as the Birth of Venus, the Primavera, etc., and several things which aren't (I had not known he illustrated an edition of Dante).

The essays included provide a very good biographical overview of Botticelli: what we do know (that he apprenticed with Fra Lippo Lippi, that his father was a tanner), what we don't know (why he is called Botticelli, a nickname which means 'little pot' and which was apparently originally his brother's nickname and spread or something else confusing like that), and what has been debunked (Vasari's biography, which as most contemporary was taken as gospel for generations, is apparently factually inaccurate about the last years of Botticelli's life).

It also gives a good overview of Florentine politics of the time, the reign of Lorenzo de Medici and his attempts to make Florence into the next Athens or Rome fading into the brief reign of the monk Savonarola, who held the famous Bonfire of the Vanities and wished to make Florence the New Jerusalem. Many famous artists and scholars, including Botticelli, followed Savonarola, which has confused later academics; this book argues convincingly that there is not that much difference, in some ways, between one scheme to reform humanity along utopian ideals and another. It also argues convincingly that many of Botticelli's later-period works, due to the changes in his style because of his association with Savonarola, have been inaccurately seen as lesser, and that it's quite possible many of them have not even been properly attributed to him yet.

The plates give a good overview of early Botticelli, with his master Lippi's influence clearly visible; mid-period, the ones everyone has memorized; the few that are known to be late-period, which certainly do look different and are clearly full of even more obscure academic and theological symbolism than the previous (if you think the Primavera is confusing, try the Mystical Crucifixion, yeesh); and the drawings from Dante, which fascinate me by conforming almost perfectly to the not-yet-evolved narrative conventions of the comic strip.

In short, ignore that this is exhibit-related, and find it if you can, if you need a good resource about this painter, his milieu, and how they related to each other, because there is a lot of very useful data packed into a very brief space here, including even rankings of the relative usefulness and accuracy of other books on the subject. This is one of the periods in history I know something about, both from natural inclination and from research for setting fiction in it, and there were things here I had not heard, which was not something I really expected.

You can comment here or at the Dreamwidth crosspost. There are comments over there.

Tiassa, Steven Brust (365 Books, Day 214)

If you don't already read Brust's Dragaera books, this is not where you start. Really, really not. You could start with Jhereg, which is traditional, or Taltos, which would be interesting, or The Phoenix Guards if you're heavily into The Three Musketeers, or Dragon if you want to tell me if that works, because I'm curious and feel as though it might. (I met somebody once who started with Issola. The existential confusion had been going on for years; don't do that.)

If you do read Brust's Dragaera books, or want to, you want to read all the other ones before you get to this one, both the Vlad thread and the Khaavren thread. And you do want to read them, because they are snarky and sharp and have multiple different inimitable narrative voices, and worldbuilding that is practically a narcotic (doled out in sometimes very small hits). They vary in individual quality, but the plotting tends to be good on both a book and series level, and I like the characters a lot. The best way I can sum up Dragaera for people unfamiliar with it is to say that The Phoenix Guards is a very good Dumas pastiche while also being totally its own thing. When I read Robert Darnton's recent book about French occasional poetry in the eighteenth century, I found myself thinking of everyone mentioned as Dragaeran because of how they behaved, except that of course Dragaerans are also semi-immortal elves affiliated with seventeen Houses based around various animal species, practice sorcery, sometimes carry weapons of great and powerful might, and conduct epic battles against beings godlike and weirder. People in Dumas only seem as though they do all that. Vlad, our usual protagonist, is an Easterner, which means he's physically human, which means that in some ways he is what you would get if you dropped a (very sarcastic) normal person into an eighteenth-century French court, and in other ways, not, because most normal people aren't actually assassins.

Anyway, this is one of the best fantasy series presently running, and I'm starting to think Brust may actually finish it.

For Tiassa, you may want to have read all the other ones fairly recently, too. This is one of those books that calls back to a lot of different things.

A tiassa is a tiger-like feline with wings. They are associated with creativity, intuition, dreaming, non-linearity of time, some forms of plotting, some kinds of theatricality, and, I suspect, marriage and to some degree parenthood.

I really like this book. It is complex and nonlinear and intuitive and non-obvious in all the correct ways, and coalesces beautifully, and is I think the best of the Vlad books so far on sheerly technical grounds except possibly Jhegaala*, but Jhegaala is sufficiently depressing that I can't reread it very often, whereas this one is (mostly) funny and touching. And that's really all I want to say without a spoiler-cut. Does anyone know which House comes next?

*My Grand Unified Theory of What Jhegaala Is Doing That Is So Awesome is available upon request.

( Spoiler-cut, stuff under here is not so much a review as various random impressions, because that seems appropriate. )

In conclusion: awesomesauce. Made of shiny. One of my favorites to this point; it will need a while to settle and a couple of rereads before I can tell whether it is my favorite.

Tiassa, Steven Brust (365 Books, Day 214)

If you don't already read Brust's Dragaera books, this is not where you start. Really, really not. You could start with Jhereg, which is traditional, or Taltos, which would be interesting, or The Phoenix Guards if you're heavily into The Three Musketeers, or Dragon if you want to tell me if that works, because I'm curious and feel as though it might. (I met somebody once who started with Issola. The existential confusion had been going on for years; don't do that.)

If you do read Brust's Dragaera books, or want to, you want to read all the other ones before you get to this one, both the Vlad thread and the Khaavren thread. And you do want to read them, because they are snarky and sharp and have multiple different inimitable narrative voices, and worldbuilding that is practically a narcotic (doled out in sometimes very small hits). They vary in individual quality, but the plotting tends to be good on both a book and series level, and I like the characters a lot. The best way I can sum up Dragaera for people unfamiliar with it is to say that The Phoenix Guards is a very good Dumas pastiche while also being totally its own thing. When I read Robert Darnton's recent book about French occasional poetry in the eighteenth century, I found myself thinking of everyone mentioned as Dragaeran because of how they behaved, except that of course Dragaerans are also semi-immortal elves affiliated with seventeen Houses based around various animal species, practice sorcery, sometimes carry weapons of great and powerful might, and conduct epic battles against beings godlike and weirder. People in Dumas only seem as though they do all that. Vlad, our usual protagonist, is an Easterner, which means he's physically human, which means that in some ways he is what you would get if you dropped a (very sarcastic) normal person into an eighteenth-century French court, and in other ways, not, because most normal people aren't actually assassins.

Anyway, this is one of the best fantasy series presently running, and I'm starting to think Brust may actually finish it.

For Tiassa, you may want to have read all the other ones fairly recently, too. This is one of those books that calls back to a lot of different things.

A tiassa is a tiger-like feline with wings. They are associated with creativity, intuition, dreaming, non-linearity of time, some forms of plotting, some kinds of theatricality, and, I suspect, marriage and to some degree parenthood.

I really like this book. It is complex and nonlinear and intuitive and non-obvious in all the correct ways, and coalesces beautifully, and is I think the best of the Vlad books so far on sheerly technical grounds except possibly Jhegaala*, but Jhegaala is sufficiently depressing that I can't reread it very often, whereas this one is (mostly) funny and touching. And that's really all I want to say without a spoiler-cut. Does anyone know which House comes next?

*My Grand Unified Theory of What Jhegaala Is Doing That Is So Awesome is available upon request.

( Spoiler-cut, stuff under here is not so much a review as various random impressions, because that seems appropriate. )

In conclusion: awesomesauce. Made of shiny. One of my favorites to this point; it will need a while to settle and a couple of rereads before I can tell whether it is my favorite.

You can comment here or at the Dreamwidth crosspost. There are comments over there.