The Botticelli Secret

About the Author

A Conversation with Marina Fiorato

“I’ve always found [Flora] particularly captivating… she really steps out of the frame.”

What inspired you to write The Botticelli Secret?

The painting, first and last. It’s been my favorite picture ever since I saw it in the Uffizi as a teenager. The scale, the color of it, and the intensity of detail really captured my attention, then and ever since. I’ve always found the figure of Flora particularly captivating; I find her expression deliciously intriguing. She really steps out of the frame. I’ve always wondered what she is thinking—and this book is my answer to that question.

What does La Primavera mean to you? What about it do you wish to reveal to your readers?

I read an article in the Times about an Italian academic named Enrico Guidoni who had come up with a new theory about La Primavera, and the meaning of each of the figures. There have been so many interpretations of the painting over the years, but this one struck me as being completely convincing. So it formed the spine of the novel. It’s meaningful because I think it completely encapsulates that period of the Renaissance in almost every aspect—fashion, belief systems, patronage, symbolism, even botany. As to what I’d like to reveal to my readers the answer is simple: Italy!

You have already written about Renaissance Italy in your previous novel, The Glassblower of Murano. How, if at all, was the process of writing The Botticelli Secret different for you? Also, in crafting your story about Botticelli, did you stick solely to the facts? Or did you take any artistic liberties?

Writing Botticelli was a very different experience from writing Glassblower. For one thing, it’s all written in first-person, from the point of view of Luciana, the model for Botticelli’s Flora. Also, this novel is wholly set in the past, where as Glassblower had a split timeline between past and present. One of the major differences was the humor: Luciana is such a flawed, earthy character; the contrast between her demeanor and language and the more buttoned-up, erudite Brother Guido was a rich seam of comedy. Luciana’s language is certainly more colorful than any I’ve ever used before—I miss her already!

Because this book is so dependent on its premise, I was much less strict with the facts than I’ve been with other works. I tried not to be overtly anachronistic—there are no digital watches!—but for Botticelli it was more important to stay true to the ethos and feel of the period than to be too pernickety about dates and details. So some people are in cities they may not have been in, or I’ve imagined events that may not have happened at all. I’ve always maintained that historical novels should not be taken as hard fact, but more of a jumping-off point for readers to research the period if what they read sparks their interest in history. I’d be delighted if that happens with my readers.

THE PONTE VECCHIO

“When I open a historical novel I’m taking a trip to a different land.”

Why do you enjoy writing historical fiction? Why do you do you think readers are so drawn to historical novels?

L.P. Hartley wrote: “The past is another country, they do things differently there.” I think this is exactly right and it’s at the root of our fascination with historical novels. I find everything about the Renaissance period utterly absorbing; the people dressed differently, spoke differently, ate different things, and had different belief systems. When I open a historical novel I’m taking a trip to a different land, and, as with all journeys abroad, I’m as interested in how much we are similar as in how much we differ. People are people, after all; wherever, or whenever, they live.

Have you ever known a Luciana in your own life? Did you base her character (or others in this novel) on people you know? Please take us through the process of how characters come to life in your imagination—and on the page.

No, I don’t know anyone like her, but I wish I did! I love her so much. She’s a creature of contrasts—ignorant but not stupid, greedy but not grasping, selfish but loving, base but beautiful. The challenge was to try to make the reader like her despite, or perhaps because of, her faults. The key to Luciana’s character is that although she has an internal monologue, that’s also what comes straight out of her mouth. When she does flatter, or posture, it’s immediately undercut by the fact that we know exactly what she’s thinking. It makes her very human. I created Guido by trying to imagine a character who was the opposite to Luciana: he is educated, cultured, reticent, and speaks very wordily and with great propriety—no curse words for him! The novel is built on the tensions between their two personalities. Essentially, they have exactly the same core values. I have not really based any of the characters on people I know, but I’ve tried to make them neither completely villainous nor completely virtuous.

Of all of the cities featured in The Botticelli Secret, which is your favorite?

One of the things I’d really like to get across the incredible diversity of all these cities, but that they all have so much to offer. In fact, one of the main messages of the novel is that Italy always was, is now, and ever shall be intensely regional. So in the spirit of that I’d have to confess to a soft spot for Venice, the city of my fathers, with Florence as a close second. If I’m to be allowed two answers, I’d say Venice in the winter, Florence in the summer!

MARINA AND HER DAUGHTER, RUBY