Praise for The Girl of His Dreams:
“Gorgeously written . . . [A] superlative series.”—Marilyn Stasio, New York Times Book Review
“Donna Leon is best known for her subtle and enduring Commissario Guido Brunetti detective series, set in Venice . . . The Girl of His Dreams is Leon’s 17th Brunetti outing and one of her finest; a cunning novel of great depth.”—Anna Mundow, Boston Globe
“The Girl of His Dreams helps me understand why Leon has such a fervent following . . . Brunetti is a marvel: smart, cultured and dedicated to his work, all the more so when the pompous inept superior tries to rein him in . . . Free of coincidence of obvious contrivance, The Girl of His Dreams is a showcase of nuanced characterization, acute observation and seamless plotting.”—Washington Post
“Book by book, expatriate American writer Donna Leon has been telling a secret history of Venice. Her 17th Commissario Guido Brunetti book, not surprisingly, is bookended by funerals. In between she delves into crimes against the Romany, political correctness and the comforts of family in times of loss in a story so perfectly balanced that it feels as though it glides on a dark, still, silent waterway.”—John Freeman, Minneapolis Star-Tribune
“It begins in a cemetery and ends in one, but in the midst of death, Donna Leon affirms life in The Girl of His Dreams . . . As much about family as about crime, Leon’s literate and humane novels are as moving as any in the genre. And The Girl of His Dreams is a dream come true for those who love intelligent entertainment.”—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“As fans of this series know, Brunetti loves his family and his familiar comforts. Long lunches, ideally in the family apartment, are chronicled in detail, allowing a vicarious tasting of such midday repasts as fusili with black olives, mozzarella, and fresh basil, followed by calamari stuffed with carrots, leeks, ‘perhaps even some chopped shrimp.’ Such breaks make it easier for Brunetti to deal with the harsh realities of his job . . . And just as she allows Brunetti those few breaks . . . so, too, does Leon offer palliatives to her readers. The quality of life in Venice may be sinking faster than the island itself, as local fruit stands now carry only tourist knickknacks and the wait for the vaporetto grows ever longer. But what remains is beautiful, especially in springtime, despite the presence of death and the absence of justice. It is this contrast, and Leon’s subtly lyrical evocation of it, as much as the food or the central mystery that makes her books irresistible. And once again, in The Girl of His Dreams, all the decay only makes the beauty more poignant.”—Clea Simon, Boston Globe
“As heartfelt and moving as Brunetti’s best.”—Kirkus Reviews
“[A] remarkably rich series . . . As it evolves, it becomes clear that Leon deserves her place not only with the finest international crime writers (Michael Dibdin and Henning Mankell, for example) but also with literary novelists who explore the agonies of the everyday (Margaret Drabble and Anne Tyler, among others).”—Booklist
Official justice being arbitrary in Donna Leon's gorgeously written but deeply melancholic Venetian police procedurals, the task of her detective, Commissario Guido Brunetti, isn't so much to solve a crime as to find a way of bearing the pain and horror of it. The Girl of His Dreams, the 17th book in this superlative series, restates Leon's theme with more intensity than usual
—The New York Times
Free of coincidence or obvious contrivance, The Girl of His Dreams is a showcase of nuanced characterization, acute observation and seamless plotting.
—The Washington Post
Political reality prevails over justice, and a child's death goes unpunished despite the best efforts of Commissario Guido Brunetti in Leon's 17th Venetian mystery. When 11-year-old Ariana Rocich drowns in a canal and goes unidentified for days, she begins to haunt Brunetti's dreams. But Ariana is a Rom, or gypsy, found with stolen jewelry items secreted in and on her person, a discovery that makes Brunetti's investigation particularly sensitive in the face of new departmental directives regarding multicultural issues. The book opens with the funeral of Brunetti's mother before segueing into a subplot about a religious charlatan; so religion, as well as politics, becomes a topic around the family table for Brunetti, wife Paola, daughter Chiara, and son Raffi. A devoted family man, Brunetti is deeply principled if not overtly religious: his character and moral compass in the face of bureaucracy evoke as much interest as the crimes he sets out to solve. American-born Leon describes her longtime home of Venice lovingly, and the ethical grounding she gives this novel lifts it above the norm. [See Prepub Mystery, LJ1/08.]
—Michele Leber
Commissario Guido Brunetti, of the Venetian Questura, pursues a pair of very different cases to equally inconclusive ends. At the gravesite following the funeral of his mother, Guido Brunetti meets Padre Antonin Scallon, a schoolfriend of Brunetti's brother who has been doing missionary work in Africa. Brunetti has never liked Scallon, so he's surprised when the priest asks his help in getting information about Brother Leonardo Mutti, leader of the Children of Jesus Christ. Agreeing to investigate Mutti, Brunetti (Suffer the Little Children, 2007, etc.) ends up spending considerably more time investigating Scallon himself before he's abruptly pulled away from his inquiries by an ugly discovery. A Romany girl is found drowned in the Grand Canal with two pieces of readily identifiable jewelry that didn't belong to her. Because of a lack of cooperation, the mystery of the girl's death looks even more impenetrable than Brunetti's investigation of the two rival preachers. The investigations are linked only by the establishment's hatred and fear of interlopers who threaten its control. By no means a model of plot construction, but as heartfelt and moving as Brunetti's best.
Could we talk about accents? The principal characters here are Venetians living in Venice. David Colacci’s choice to play them all as if they were Italians speaking English in New Jersey obliterates variations of class or region that give texture to a story and that varying accents might otherwise convey. Here when Police Commisar Brunetti speaks with a contessa, a gypsy from Hungary, a German-born carabinieri, or his boss with the rough Palermo accent, Colacci has nowhere to go with it. Instead they all sound like an American imitation of a single Italian accent. This flaw distances us from characters the author intends us to identify with, robs them of familiarity and the story of gravitas. Nor does the story really hit its marks. Very seriously disappointing. B.G. © AudioFile 2008, Portland, Maine
