I have mixed views of this 2006 book by a British writer. It was always engaging and I was never tempted to give it up. The narrator was purportedly a man, but at the risk of sounding sexist, the sensibilities of this narrator were not masculine. An appealing character in many ways, but not a guy as I know them. And as evidence that I am not a sexist, I offer this: I was made uneasy by the underlying assumption that the woman telling her story became real and whole only when she met and was with the right guy. On the positive side, the book had a Caravaggio theme running through it, including a brief telling of his life. It mentions the discovery of a newly found Caravaggio in a monastery. I guess this refers to the painting that is the subject of Jonathan Harr's book The Lost Painting (see previous post).