I'm in Love and I've Never Even Met You

The natural first impulse when reviewing John Berendt’s second book The City of Falling Angels is to compare it with his first blockbuster bestseller Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. That’s the first thing people ask, too – is it as good as Midnight? Did Berendt fall victim to the sophomore jinx?

I read Midnight long after the initial buzz about both book and movie had faded. Hubby and I spent a night in Savannah, Ga., on our honeymoon (the rest we spent in Charleston, S.C.), so I read Midnight the week after we returned. As usual, I prefer the book to the movie.

The City of Falling Angels follows a similar pattern. Berendt lives for a while in a city, interviewing its inhabitants and documenting the unique patterns of life there, all the while slowly reeling out a true mystery.

The mystery in Midnight was a murder in Savannah. The mystery in Angels is the burning of the last centuries-old opera house in Venice.

I’ve been fascinated with Venice since reading Palladian Days: Finding a New Life in a Venetian Country House several months ago. Berendt portrays a similar view of Venice – deceitful and charming, vibrant and mysterious, ancient and beautiful. After reading Angels, I’m even more desperate to visit the city with no cars and more art and history than one tourist can digest.

Angels is a pleasant, easygoing book, in some ways more poignant and insightful than Midnight, particularly the parts about the master glassblower who documents the fire in art glass.

But I don’t always need a book that’s packed full of excitement. Berendt narrated the abridged version himself (and an interview with him is included at the end), and that made me feel I was there, sitting in on the conversations with him.

In Midnight Berendt described Savannah through the people he introduced. The same is true of Venice but to a lesser degree. In Angels, the interviews at times seemed more about telling a story – a sometimes uninteresting story – than telling about a person.

But maybe this is the fate of all abridged books – to be edited down to bare story, no frivolous extra things like character development.

And in the case of Angels, the main story and all the subplots are weak. Because I love reading about Venice, I enjoyed most of the book. But if it had been set in a city less fascinating in its own right, Angels might’ve been downright dull. Even the investigation and trial over the opera house’s possible arson lacked suspense.

I recommend reading it but not for the mystery. Read it for the city.