Picked this up on impulse from the local thrift store, and I'm afraid I simply could not finish. Despite some of the less than positive reviews on Goodreads, my fatal attraction to historical mysteries and bookstores led me to open the novel with a sense of cautious optimism. Not long after, my forehead hit the desk with a thunk because I got an eyeful this:

PROLOGUE

Cauca province, Columbia.

Book, you lost me at 'Columbia.' It's Colombia. Even more strangely, one of the translators for this novel apparently 'graduated from Goldsmith's College, London with First Class Honours in Spanish and Latin American Studies.'

I set the book aside, convinced myself I was being too didactic, and soldiered on about a third of the way through the book before putting it down for good. I can't fault the expertise of the writing team regarding Paris at the turn of the century, but the exhaustive historical detail and onslaught of literary references (which I normally enjoy) bogged down the tale. Hard to follow.