I, Mona Lisa by Jeanne Kalogridis

I’ve been reading this book all summer and FINALLY finished it last night. I love Kalogridis’s work but this novel left me with a rather lukewarm response. It contained all the detail, history, intrigue, and bloodiness of her other novels but there was something, a spark, a love for the main character that I missed this time round.

Lisa is a lovely, fiery character and to see her surrounded by such greats as Da Vinci and Botticelli, not to mention the Di Medici was immensely gratifying, as was the part she played in one of the greatest works of art in history. But she didn’t capture me like Catherine de Medici or Catarina Sforza or even Sancha of Aragon did. Her determination was not centered on duty, not really, or not even love, but on hatred. A burning, deep-seeded hatred that changed foci several times. It made her dark and almost scary in a way. Not as endearing as she could have been.

So, all in all, not a bad book but not one of my favorites.

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