I am in love with this book. If The Historian is written in the same captivating, lyrical style, why have I waited so long to read it? Hype, most likely. Too much hype, and I either lose interest or have to wait until the furor has died down. That is what happened with the Harry Potter books, and that is what I am waiting for with the Twilight series.
Fifteen chapters and ninety-two pages into Kostova's second book, and I am having trouble deciding how much later I can stay up reading or if it is time to take a shower and turn in for the night.
So far, it is riveting and brilliant and all of those other superlatives that you are always afraid to believe when you read them in reviews.
I love the characters and the story and the hints at a related, possibly parallel, story from the past.
Rave, rave, rave.
I'm not quite brave enough to find out if all of the artists and paintings mentioned in the book are real, but I am going to try to dig out my art books tomorrow to read up a little bit on the artists and periods I do recognize. You know, for context. Because I am that kind of nerd.
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