In the mid-17th century, a freed slave paints the portrait of Doña Gracia de Mendoza, a famous courtesan of the time, and of a boy, her protégé, lover, and finally husband, Pablo de Corredera. From then on, the portrait undergoes countless adventures, changes hands many times, travels to exotic places, is mistreated, mutilated, repainted, and is seen by many in many ways across many eras.
In our time, someone discovers it, and through the process of its restoration the true story of those depicted in it is revealed—or is it? In The Dream of Venice, the Spanish writer has woven with great skill an intricate tapestry, following Henry James’s guidelines, whose folds and patterns are gradually revealed and mutually illuminated across the book’s five chapter-episodes, while still, even after the final knot of its weaving, retaining its enigmatic charm—magnified by the reader’s sense of having wandered through a labyrinth whose spell they do not wish to escape.
