THE THEFTS OF THE MONA LISA

An art historian’s account of the perilous history of the world’s most recognizable painting.

After opening with a gripping narration of the theft of the Mona Lisa in 1911, Charney proceeds with an excellent chapter on the painting’s history. This portion includes a synopsis of da Vinci’s career and legacy; the author explains how critical reception to the Mona Lisa changed over time, offering valuable perspective on how the theft contributed to the portrait’s place in popular culture. From here, the book becomes substantially less compelling. The author devotes an entire section to how Picasso and his friend Guillaume Apollinaire became embroiled in the hunt for the Mona Lisa. This is a wonderful tidbit but—spoiler alert—neither the painter nor the poet had anything to do with the theft. The pages Charney devotes to their actual exploits are merely tangents. The author’s account of the recovery of the Mona Lisa is interesting, but his depiction of the search is flat—largely because readers already know the thief’s identity, and the author’s description of the French detective is unenlightening. The book also has a lot of repetition—at least one whole passage appears twice—and Charney contradicts his own text more than once. He writes, for example, that after the excitement of the painting’s return to France, the “phrase ‘Mona Lisa smile’ became part of the vernacular”—after he has already quoted numerous art critics and journalists commenting on that smile. Charney even reproduces the suicide note of a Mona Lisa–obsessed artist who took his own life in 1852: “For years I have grappled desperately with her smile, I prefer to die.” The portion of the text that deals with the painting’s entanglements with the Nazis suffers from similar flaws.

Readers intrigued by the subject should turn to one of Charney’s shorter articles or TED talks on the same subject.