The Improbability Of Love by Hannah Mary Rothschild– 408 pages
Book Blurb:
When lovelorn Annie McDee stumbles across a dirty painting in a junk shop while looking for a present for an unsuitable man, she has no idea what she has discovered. Soon she finds herself drawn unwillingly into the tumultuous London art world, populated by exiled Russian oligarchs, avaricious Sheikas, desperate auctioneers and unscrupulous dealers, all scheming to get their hands on her painting – a lost eighteenth-century masterpiece called ‘The Improbability of Love’. Delving into the painting’s past, Annie will uncover not just an illustrious list of former owners, but some of the darkest secrets of European history – and in doing so she might just learn to open up to the possibility of falling in love again
My Review: 2.5 stars
The Improbability of Love had a positively good beginning, and was sadly followed up by meandering, meaningless storylines. Nothing irks me more than an exciting start with my curiosity peaked to have the conclusion so damn disappointing.
Seriously, learning about historical pieces of art, the idea of a talking painting and finding a treasure amongst trash is fabulous, right? It should be. But instead, this book has character overload with some intriguing storylines and some unnecessary ones, a dose of satire and a boatload of lessons is art history. Basically, it just becomes a literary book with an ADD diagnosis and no meds.
Upon completion of the book, I learned that the author is the chair of the London National Gallery and the daughter of a Baron; I realized why she felt it important to stuff the book with art facts and to portray the rich as she did.
Quotes I liked:
No, the value of a work of art is set by desire: who wants to own it and how badly.”
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