From Publishers Weekly
Numerous characters and plot lines spin through this historical romance, but the real star is 15th-century Venice, a "transparent floating book, where the pages are concepts visible in colour. Not a thing of the mind, but a piece of beauty dedicated to the senses alone." Situating historical figures like German printer Wendelin von Speyer alongside over-the-top creations like Sosia Simeon, a Serbian woman with an insatiable sexual appetite, Lovric spins an intrigue-laden tale of destructive lusts and mixed-up loves in the early days of the printing press. She has an eye for sensual detail, conveying the sights and smells of the city's markets and palazzi. But her characters-such as the demagogue priest, Fra Filippo, and his helper, Ianno, who, once cured of a fleshy appendage on his head "resembling a tiny human brain," finds himself "obsessed with doing good where once he committed only badness"-are caricatures. Byzantine plot twists and steamy sex scenes may count for more than subtlety of prose in a standard page-turner, but Lovric's literary aspirations often force the action to take a back seat to heavy-handed references to the Latin poet Catullus and extravagant descriptive passages. In Lovric's Venice, a clumsy lover is "humiliated to the darkest core of his soul," while sexual infatuation is "an exhilarating nightmare like a ride on a seabird's back through the dead hours of the night." Readers looking for a good yarn will get lost in the window dressing, while those seeking a novel of elegance and depth may not feel rewarded enough for their perseverance.Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From The Washington Post's Book World/washingtonpost.com
The first thing to say about this historical novel set in 15th-century Venice is that you must keep going. It gets better. Indeed, making your way through the early pages is an experience not dissimilar to making your way for the first time through Venice itself: You see the beauty of the architecture, you feel the imminent detail of the history, you sense a certain amorous languor in the air, and you might even glimpse some fleeting sign of real life down a narrow sottoportego as your guide elaborates about the sights ahead -- but the whole experience is forever being hijacked by ubiquitous image-conscious Venetians (particularly the gondola guides) who love themselves and think they are it. And yet, if you are prepared to stay on a while, to allow your guide's amour propre its proper play, to immerse yourself -- then the rewards can be as opulent and ravishing as you first imagined. So with The Floating Book. Most of the characters soon slip off their stagy silhouettes. The interlinking stories start to pull at you. The fictional letters of the Roman poet Catullus that herald each section begin to have credibility and pertinence. A host of interesting themes declare themselves: You find yourself thinking about the nature of obsession -- the book's first subject -- about witchcraft, about the positioning of the dots of the "i"s on the first printed pages, about Judaism, about the effects of the plague, prostitution, medicine, about whether the point of the printing press was to erase the personality of the scribe the better to let the words speak for themselves or whether the beauty of early printing was actually in the idiosyncrasy of a given type face, about hypocrisy, betrayal, loyalty and disgrace. In short, 15th-century Venice slowly comes alive.The story is really two stories, although they are always linked. Story one is about the fate of an alluring Jewish girl, Sosia Simeon, married to a good Jewish doctor whom she despises, but loved by (and lover to) many men of all ranks -- in particular the young editor Bruno Uguccione, who adores her even more abjectly than the rest. Sosia herself is a committed sensualist -- she feels everything on the skin and nothing in the heart. The only man she really wants is Felice Feliciano, the great scribe, "whose tawny colouring and perfect features were one of the wonders of Padova." Story two (which I found the more engaging) is about the struggle and rivalries of Wendelin von Speyer, a Rhinelander who has come to Venice to set up a printing press. It is this second story that provides access to the inky world of early print: typefaces, books, poetry, lettering, words.And words do matter to Michelle Lovric. She is, I think, directly present (brandishing her literary manifesto) when she has Felice write: "This is the true soul of Venice, this bubble city in my dreams. She's like a transparent floating book, where the pages are visible in colour. Not a thing of the mind but a piece of beauty dedicated to the senses alone." But it is only when Lovric devotes herself to the very real business of sentences rather than the seductive daydreams of her overall idea or setting, that she begins to reveal herself as a gifted and individual phrasemaker -- always revealing, never anachronistic, and never, ever lazy. This sentence, for example, captures the impetuousness of Bruno: "He watched the bird tracks fading slowly in the mud with an impatience no one else could understand." Or consider how she conveys the diversionary chatter of von Speyer's jealous wife: Her "lips all through supper snapped open and shut like travelling clams." And my own favorite passage, which describes the moment where Bruno opens the door to Sosia and realizes that the rest of his life will be "an exhilarating nightmare like a ride on a seabird's back through the dead of the night." Perfect.Add to this writing talent the many other virtues Lovric brings to "The Floating Book" -- a command of her subject that is so intimate that it is almost indecent; a similarly intimate facility with Catullus's poetry, which she translates herself; her thorough and (more important) judicious use of her prodigious research -- and you can begin to see how rewarding The Floating Book can be. In this age of "creative" writing courses, lowest-common-denominator fiction and the staggeringly overrated "art" of the screenplay, it is refreshing and heartening to read a book by a writer who is genuinely interested in words. Reviewed by Edward DocxCopyright 2004, The Washington Post Co. All Rights Reserved.


From Booklist
*Starred Review* Lovric's big, lush novel follows a vibrant cast of characters in the bustling Venice of 1486. Sosia Simeon, married to a Jewish doctor who is repulsed by her, finds comfort in the arms of many other men. German-born Wendelin von Speyer comes to Venice to capitalize on the invention of the printing press. Sosia bewitches handsome young Bruno, Wendelin's editor, but it is the cold, disinterested Felice, his scribe, who captivates her. Wendelin falls in love with Lussieta, the beautiful daughter of a bookseller, and marries her. All of them are drawn in by the amorous poems of the Latin poet Catullus, which Wendelin intends to print. But though Catullus brings them together, the publication of his poems threatens to tear them apart: Fra Filippo de Strata, a Dominican friar, loathes the presses and makes it his mission to denounce the printers. Sosia's games with men begin to take their toll, and a fissure forms in the previously blissful marriage of Wendelin and Lussieta. Meticulous historical detail and a splendid, complex story make this portrait of Venice and its denizens memorable and moving. Kristine Huntley
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved


Book Description

Venice, 1468. The beautiful yet heartless Sosia Simeon is making her mark on the city, driven by a dark compulsion to steal pleasure with men from all walks of life. Across the Grand Canal, Wendelin von Speyer has just arrived from Germany, bringing with him a cultural revolution: Gutenberg's movable type. Together with the young editor Bruno Uguccione and the seductive scribe Felice Feliciano, he starts the city's first printing press. Before long a love triangle develops between Sosia, Felice, and Bruno -- who has become entranced by the verse of Catullus, the Roman erotic poet. But a far greater scandal erupts when Wendelin tempts fate by publishing the poet -- and changes all of their lives forever. Sosia, the heartless sensualist; Felice, a man who loves the crevices of the alphabet the way other men love the crevices of women; Lussieta, whose anguish gives the story its soulful heart: these and many other characters make The Floating Book an unforgettable experience for lovers of romance, history, and the printed word.


About the Author
Michele Lovric is a student of European literature and Venetian culture. The editor of the New York Times bestseller Love Letters, she divides her time between Venice and London, where she lives in a Venetian-style house on the Thames near Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. The Floating Book is her first novel to be published in the United States.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

"1468. The young brothers Wendelin and Johann von Speyer make the tortuous journey across the Alps to the fabled city of Venice. There, in a fondaco on the edge of the Grand Canal, they introduce the spark and tinder of a cultural revolution: Gutenberg's movable type. Across the canal, a beautiful yet heartless Dalmatian woman named Sosia Simeon is making her mark on the city, driven by a dark compulsion to steal pleasure with men from all walks of life. Before long, a love triangle develops between Sosia, the perverse, charismatic scribe Felice Feliciano, and the young editor Bruno Uguccione - who has become entranced by the verse of Catullus, the erotic Roman poet. With competition at his heels, Wendelin accepts his wife Lussieta's advice and tempts the fates by publishing the first printed edition of Catullus - a move that will enrage the church, scandalize the city, and change all their lives forever." Sosia, the cruel sensualist scarred by lifelong bitterness; Felice, who loves the crevices of the alphabet the way other men love the crevices of women; Lussieta, whose anguish over her faltering marriage gives the story its soulful heart: Their voices, and that of the desperate young Catullus himself, are woven by Michelle Lovric into an illuminated and lyrical narrative.

FROM THE CRITICS

The Washington Post

In this age of "creative" writing courses, lowest-common-denominator fiction and the staggeringly overrated "art" of the screenplay, it is refreshing and heartening to read a book by a writer who is genuinely interested in words. — Edward Docx

Publishers Weekly

Numerous characters and plot lines spin through this historical romance, but the real star is 15th-century Venice, a "transparent floating book, where the pages are concepts visible in colour. Not a thing of the mind, but a piece of beauty dedicated to the senses alone." Situating historical figures like German printer Wendelin von Speyer alongside over-the-top creations like Sosia Simeon, a Serbian woman with an insatiable sexual appetite, Lovric spins an intrigue-laden tale of destructive lusts and mixed-up loves in the early days of the printing press. She has an eye for sensual detail, conveying the sights and smells of the city's markets and palazzi. But her characters-such as the demagogue priest, Fra Filippo, and his helper, Ianno, who, once cured of a fleshy appendage on his head "resembling a tiny human brain," finds himself "obsessed with doing good where once he committed only badness"-are caricatures. Byzantine plot twists and steamy sex scenes may count for more than subtlety of prose in a standard page-turner, but Lovric's literary aspirations often force the action to take a back seat to heavy-handed references to the Latin poet Catullus and extravagant descriptive passages. In Lovric's Venice, a clumsy lover is "humiliated to the darkest core of his soul," while sexual infatuation is "an exhilarating nightmare like a ride on a seabird's back through the dead hours of the night." Readers looking for a good yarn will get lost in the window dressing, while those seeking a novel of elegance and depth may not feel rewarded enough for their perseverance. Agent, Victoria Hobbs. (Jan.) Forecast: Lovric has had considerable success as the editor of dozens of popular anthologies (including the bestselling Love Letters), but her foray into fiction seems unlikely to yield the same dividends. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

The colorful, sometimes violent history of printing serves as backdrop for this historical novel of 15th-century Venice, the first by British author Lovric (editor, Women's Wicked Wit; Love Letters) to be published in the United States. When the von Speyer brothers travel from Germany with their printing tools, they hope to capitalize on the bustling commerce of Venice. Marrying Venetians, they become intertwined with a Jewish doctor and his promiscuous wife; an editor, whose sister, a nun, practices witchcraft; and a debauched Venetian scribe. As the popularity of printed books grows, their business is threatened by increasing competition, mistrust of printed books by the church, and their printing of such controversial works as the erotic poetry of the ancient Roman Catullus. Many of the characters here are real historical figures, and Lovric's research provides surprising insight into the challenges of a time when books were just beginning to influence the world (the author is a part-time resident of Venice). Fans of Dava Sobel's Galileo's Daughter, as well as bibliophiles with an interest in history, will welcome this. Recommended for all public and academic libraries.-Kim Uden Rutter, Lake Villa Dist. Lib., IL Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews