The cover of this book by Suzanne Wolfe has this quote: “An imaginative vision akin to that of Dante.” The person who said that must have a very low opinion of Dante. Because the imaginative vision of this book was nonexistent. It’s about art renovation and a woman healing from her horrible past, both of which could have been interesting in the right hands. In this book, they both were terrible cliches. I never cared that the main character was raped, or had a miscarriage or even finds healing in the arms of her Italian lover. The art restoration was slightly better, but so infrequent that by the end I couldn’t care less that they discovered not a lost masterpiece but a new work of art by an obscure woman painter. Whoopee.

Thankfully it was short, or I’d really be grumpy about the time spent. (Then again, I might have bailed before the end….)