Isabel Lesser was born in the camps, just before the end of the war; her mother and father died there. Now she lives in Venice with her grandmother Lila, trying to pass as another Catholic girl. But Isabel is chafing under her grandmother’s emotionally constricting regime, and when young friendships and romance begin to inflame her desire for adventure, her mistakes snowball into a calamity that threatens their livelihood—as well as their lives.

Susan Knecht’s THE ART COLLECTOR’S WIFE is not about the Holocaust, but it succeeds in part because it so effectively humanizes the survivors. When history is told with neat timelines bracketing off a set of years, it’s easy to forget that those survivors kept on living. Though the Lessers survived the camps, they must still work to make money in order to live in a world that remains eminently hostile to Jews. They’re as susceptible as anyone else to mugging, extortion, kidnapping, and murder. That gives the text a heart-wrenching frisson of paranoia at all times: is this happening because bad actors are everywhere, and they prey on others opportunistically? Or is this happening because the Lessers are Jews? The worst question of all, underlying the immediate circumstances: is it happening again? Conveying this psychological reality—and the friction it causes between Lila and her granddaughter, who never experienced the Holocaust and understands the world much differently—is the bedrock of the text’s emotional power.

While it effectively conveys that psychological landscape, THE ART COLLECTOR’S WIFE also shimmers in description of its characters and setting. The text has a knack for capturing a character in a single, strong image—be that the “bell-shaped woman in a house dress” who acts as postmistress and rumor-monger, or her “wiry brown terrier the color of standing water.” Particular attention is paid to bodies and smell, a sensory dimension often lost in prose: old sweat on working-class bodies clashes with the notes of a recognizable brand of cologne; when the action moves to Paris, the “stagnant air, more humid than in Venice, sticks to the skin like a shameful insinuation.” THE ART COLLECTOR’S WIFE is also keen on its Venetian geography, calling out specific streets and routes by name. Combined with the fast, impressionistic visual imagery and the lingering aromas and textures, this gives the narrative a grounded, embodied confidence.

It does feel like some plot threads are left hanging by the end; the arcs of some relationships peter off into the distance. The overall plot structure is sound, although in at least one instance a character is introduced through sheer coincidence—which may strain credulity. However, the core of the plot is compelling, the prose is rich and tight, and the central character relationship (between Lila and Isabel) is more than enough to carry the reader’s interest and emotional investment.

Susan Knecht’s THE ART COLLECTOR’S WIFE is both a gripping crime thriller and a moving family drama.

~ Dan Accardi for IndieReader