The City of Falling Angels, by John Berendt

Legends of the slack lagoon

Much of this follows from the form of his book. When, for example, he writes of the obnoxious crowd of society hangers-on who raise money to restore Venetian monuments, and demand flattery and attention from the locals in return, there is nothing other than the artistry of presentation to hold one's attention. And although Berendt is an able writer, with an almost uncanny ability to render extended conversations, he is not a novelist of genius, such as Henry James; nor has he the charm of a chronicler such as the 19th-century US consul, William Dean Howells.

Berendt arrived for a long holiday in early February 1996, a few days after the devastating fire that destroyed the renowned Fenice opera house. Soon he determined, rather grandly, that this event, together with the rising seas that so often flood Venice, might herald the end of the unique lagoon city. He would stay to write about "the people who live in Venice" before it was too late.

Of course, no one can write about all of the 40,000 Venetians on the islands that make up the city - not to mention the many more who live in the mainland municipality, Mestre, universally ignored in the voluminous literature. So Berendt picks and chooses, always looking for the colourful character and dramatic incident. Not from him will we learn about the ordinary people who try to eke out a living among the tourists, but we do encounter expatriate Americans disputing the inheritance of Ezra Pound and a host of titled Venetians from once-famous families, pontificating on their situation.

There are disputed endings to several of Berendt's researches. He, and the Italian justice system, fail to find a complete answer to the cause of the Fenice fire. And who is the rightful heir of the glassmaker Archemede Seguso? Was the death of a local poet really a suicide? Are the last generation of heirs to Palazzo Barbaro, descendants of Daniel Curtis of Boston who bought the upper parts of the building in 1885 and hosted a succession of artists and writers there, trapped in a dream world?

John Berendt is a cultured man, a persistent journalist and a vivid writer. He has a grand subject in the fate of the Fenice, and his subsidiary inquiries are not without interest. Yet despite the artistry with which he weaves his themes, climaxing in the opening night of the restored Fenice at which many of his characters appear in the rococo auditorium, somehow the book - for me at least - fails to come off. I'm glad that I read it because my own interest in Venice makes me grateful for every extra detail. But if you want to learn about the city, I wouldn't start here. This idiosyncratic investigation is a worthy addition to the vast literature about Venice, but hardly a significant one.