The City Of Falling Angels (2006) - Plot & Excerpts
In 1996, a fire broke out somewhere inside the empty Fenice opera house in Venice. The opera house was being restored, and was supposed to reopen within a month. When the fire broke out, a million things went swiftly and horribly wrong: the interior of the opera house was littered with open paint cans, chemicals, and cloths, making accidental fire an inevitability, and the fire alarm was disabled. The canal next to the Fenice had been drained recently, and because of this the fire boats weren't even able to reach the building at first, and then had no immediate water supply. They had to collect water from the Grand Canal and bring it over by helicopter - by then, the opera house was in flames and there was no way to stop it. The fire department had to focus on keeping the fire from spreading to the rest of the very flammable city, and as a result the inhabitants of Venice were forced to watch, weeping, as the centuries-old opera house burned to the ground in front of them. That's the opening scene of The City of Falling Angels, and it's the best part of the book. Berendt describes people watching the destruction of the opera house as they try to keep their own homes from catching fire, and the most anyone can do is watch the fire and cry, while every now and then we get lines like, "A deafening crash resounded in the depths of the Fenice. The great crystal chandelier had fallen to the floor." (Fair warning: if you don't understand why people would weep at the destruction of an opera house, this is not your book) Three days later, enter John Berendt, who sees the effects the Fenice fire has had on the residents of Venice, and decides that it might make a good subject for a book. He spends the next eight years living in Venice to interview people about the fire and everything else in their lives, because he's John Berendt and he can do that. He interviews judges, restoration experts, lawyers, and just about everyone who witnessed the fire (they include an Italian count and an elderly glassblower). People suspect that the Fenice fire was arson, possibly the result of the Mafia. The investigation is long and very interesting, and it's the start of a really good mystery. Only the start of one, unfortunately. If this book had just been about the Fenice fire, the investigation, and the restoration process, it would have been really interesting and illuminating. But Berendt just can't stay focused. He meanders from one plot to the next, like he's trying to keep up with the "Look How Many Zany Eccentrics I Can Find" cred he established in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Although here, "Zany Eccentrics" is replaced by "Obscenely Rich Expatriate Snobs." One man Berendt meets at a party excitedly explains to him how an aristocracy is the best form of government, because then all the good leadership qualities get passed down through one family. Another woman belongs to a family of expats who first moved to Venice in the 1800s when Boston got too goddamned Irish for their tastes (Berendt states this more diplomatically, but that's the gist). He can't focus his story on the Fenice. He talks about the fire and the investigation for a while, then suddenly he's spending fifteen pages telling us about a glassblower's family drama. Then thirty-eight pages on the previously-mentioned expat family. Then forty-nine pages on Ezra Pound's aging mistress and her efforts to keep his papers and letters from being stolen by the so-called "Ezra Pound Foundation." Here we break for a short revisit to the Fenice fire, and then he spends forty-two pages telling us all about the drama between two guys in charge of the American non-profit group Save Venice. Then thirty pages on a poet who killed himself, or maybe not. Yes, I counted all of those pages. No, none of those side stories have anything to do with the Fenice fire. No, none of them are even mildly interesting, except maybe the Pound one. Yes, every single conflict Berendt shows us is explored in nitpicking depth, and then dropped without a satisfying conclusion. Yes, it is irritating. I think, ultimately, the problem with this book was that it was presented wrong. I went into it expecting an in-depth investigation of a real-life mystery: the Fenice fire. Instead, I got a wandering, often overly-detailed look at the inhabitants of Venice and their daily drama. Which is fine - if that's what I'd expected to get out of this book. Had Berendt written this book as a series of essays on Venice, as another reviewer recommended, that would have been good. If he had presented the book as a portrait of Venetians and been more clear about the fact that the Fenice fire was more of a subplot, that would have also been fine. As things are, however, I was not expecting most of what I was shown in this book, and it was disappointing. That being said, I really really want to go to Venice now.
What can a writer possibly say about Venice that has not been said already by some of the most gifted writers the world has ever seen? New York journalist Berendt, author of bestseller and oscar nominated movie In The Garden of Good and Evil (never read it, nor seen the film) indulges himself with an extended stay in Venice outside of the tourist season and writes a fascinating book, not about the place so much as about some of it's more colourful and celebrated citizens.The most unfortunate incident in Venice's recent past, the fire that destroyed the majestic Fenice Opera House, proves to be a fortuitous incident for Berendt; occurring just before he arrives, the fire and subsequent investigation forms a handy framing device for the book, with many of his featured Venetians being either involved or baring witness to the catastrophe, and all being effected one way or another. The fire presents a natural precinct for Berendt, as a respected journalist, to gain access to many of the people and magnificent pallazzos they inhabit. Chief amongst the roll call of eccentric and storied Ventians are the glassblowing Seguso family - in it's 23rd generation - spearheaded by the great Alcemo Seguso, whom Berendt sees working on pieces to commemorate the burning of the Fenice Opera House, which he had witnessed through the windows of his adjacent apartment. One of his sons had asked to be bought out of his share of the family business, then used the money to set up a rival firm using the same techniques and designs, even trademarking his father's name without his knowledge, then filing a writ to have his father declared senile so he could assume ownership of the old business! It seems extraordinary, but apparently is typical of a tradition of internecine feuding amongst ancient Venetian families! Also enjoyable is an extended look at the pre-eminent American ex-pat family in Venice, the Curtis's, patrons of the arts and hosts to many famous artists (novelists Henry James and Edith Wharton, painters Sargent and Whistler etc) at the celebrated Palazzo Barbaro. During Berendt's time in Venice the film adaptation of James' novel The Wings of a Dove is shot there, and the family has to sell the piano nobile (principal floor) of the Barbaro as they can't afford the upkeep. My favourite character though was the mischeivous Signor Donadan, inventor of one of the world's most innovative and best selling rat poisons. He sees his work as a service to mankind. Using the fact that "rats eat what people eat" his poisons include elements of local food stuffs (pork fat for German rats, curry for Indian, popcorn for American!) and sells worldwide. Yet his product is not used in Vienna itself, despite the unique proliferation of rats due to the canals, as the city doesn't pay enough: "'I'm prepared to make my contribution to humanity, but' - Donadon winked - 'humanity must be willing to make a contribution to me.'"Berendt keeps his own presence to an absolute minimum, allowing the citizens to speak for themselves, which is a fine approach because they are more than happy to do that, with wonderfully entertaining results.
What do You think about The City Of Falling Angels (2006)?
I wish John Berendt had written a different book about Venice. One that was about the real inhabitants and daily lives of Venetians. It's one of those places where the myth and exclamations and romanticism of tourists overshadow the fact that for some people, it's just home. There are pluses (the last train to the mainland leaves at 9 pm, and it's expensive to stay at a hotel in the city, so the majority of the tourists clear out for the night) and minuses (oh, those tourists and their obsession with the pigeons in Piazza San Marco), but there are also many unique aspects as a result of its geography if nothing else. At first, I thought this was the book Berendt had written - he started off talking about the fire that destroyed the Fenice Opera House shortly before he arrived in Venice to start writing this book. This led to an interlude about a master glassblower who was inspired to create pieces representative of what he saw as he watched the building burn.I was even with Berendt when he started talking to the expatriates from whom he rented his apartment. Although the couple were somewhat annoying, they were also able to provide an interesting perspective on the city and its ways, a sort of insider-outsider's view. But from this point on, the whole book went down a path I wasn't that enthralled with. The people Berendt talked to and about were often not native Venetians, and usually prominent and filthy rich. The type of thing I enjoy hearing about: Venetians always embellish, and if you don't do the same, they'll be first suspicious and then bored of you. The type of thing I don't enjoy hearing about: someone who has a replica of Casanova's gondola made for their use. A thing that is interesting: Venice is a terrible city for the elderly because of the amount of walking (including up and down bridges) that is required. A thing that is not so interesting: how many doges some count has had in his family. Interesting: why people's feelings about Venice take the form of wanting to "save" it (as one person said, "Why does everyone want to save Venice? Why don't they want to save Paris?"). Not interesting: the infighting on the board of the Save Venice organization and whose name goes at the top of a plaque. The family of long-term expatriates (multiple generations) who own a palace managed to straddle the line, although I think I would have liked hearing about them more if the focus hadn't been on so many other fabulously wealthy people.And through all these stories, Berendt keeps going back to the fire at the Fenice, with the narrative centering around who set the fire (or if it was an accident, but let's get real - it's obvious it was arson). That story would have made a pretty involving article, but it was dragged out and out to make it last through the book's entirety. Toward the end, I started wondering if Berendt had started the fire to give himself something to write about. My advice: read some other book on Venice. I don't know which one, but another one.
—Ursula
It's always strange when I read something and can't decide if it's fiction or non-fiction. Twice, I had to jump back to the dust jacket to confirm that Berendt's take on Venice was truth, in as much as it could be. The interwoven tales of intrigue reveal sympathetic characters, lies and mysteries, and dozens of strange asides and questionable happenstances that deliver an intimate look at a mysterious city defined more by its people (and those who believe they're its people) than by the history and architecture that typically pepper my image of Venice.The City of Falling Angels reads, for the most part, as excellent non-fiction. At times, however, the stories seem so personal and so mysterious that it rivals good non-fiction. Berendt's grasp of the interpersonal intricacies and the subjectivity of accounts flavor a narrative that is, at once, both meandering and focused. Each chapter relays a story that could stand on its own, culminating in a revealing insight into the what helps define Venice for locals.While the lack of clarity occasionally hinders the overall feel of the book, and the factual nature of Berendt's statements sometimes lack the elegance of excellent prose, the positives of The City of Falling Angels far outweigh the negatives. I have every expectation that I will look back more favorably on this book than perhaps any other non-fiction book I've picked up.
—Ben
Anybody who knows me knows I don't read a lot of non-fiction. I WANT to read non-fiction, but I get lured away by the latest Mieville or Valente, almost every time. It doesn't help that to me a lot of non-fiction feels tedious, like I'm pushing a gondola through the sludge of a half-drained Venetian canal (Heh. See what I did there?)But THIS book, I liked. The title definitely grabbed me: in the early 1970's, before a lot of restoration got started in Venice, pieces of the marble ornaments on the Santa Maria della Salute Church were falling off onto pedestrians. A helpful citizen posted a sign outside: "BEWARE OF FALLING ANGELS." How can you NOT like a story like that?And that's what the whole book is, a series of little stories. In some places one chapter has seven or eight interesting little tidbits, all woven together by the theme of the chapter, and all of the chapters are wound around the theme of Venice, specifically the Fenice opera house that all but burned down to the ground in 1996.A few chapters in I'd told someone "It's a good book as long as you're okay that it doesn't have a point." I thought it was just a lot of randomly placed stories about Venice and Venice natives (who, according to Berendt, are both friendly and aloof, generous and gouging, trustworthy and just a smidge pirate. Bribery is a lot more common there than here...or rather they ADMIT to it more there than here. According to Berendt mind you, I haven't been myself, but after reading this book I sure plan to.) Where was I....OH yes, a point. At first I thought it didn't have one, but really, the theme is very subtle, and he weaves together all these people and events, and by the end it's tied up in a neat little literary bow. I was seriously impressed. It's been years since I read "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" but now I'm gonna have to go back and give it a look, because City of Falling Angels was the first book I've read in months that I was honestly sorry when it ended. I'd like to get back in the boat please! (Sorry, had to tie it all up...like a gondola to the pier...okay okay I'll stop....)
—Elizabeth Wallace
