The City of Falling Angels - Couverture souple

The story of the Fenice fire and its aftermath is exceptionally interesting, the cast of characters is suitably various and flamboyant, and Berendt's prose is precise, evocative and witty (Jonathan Yardley, Washington Post)

An engaging journey in which the author navigates Venice's shadowy politics, its tangled bureaucracy and its elegant high-society nightlife with a discerning, sanguine touch. Berendt does great justice to an exalted city that has rightly fascinated the likes of Henry James, Robert Browning and many filmmakers throughout the world . . . In Berendt's capable hands, the city has never seemed more colorful, perplexing and alluring. (Kirkus Reviews)

'Berendt has delivered an intriguing mosaic of modern life in Venice, which makes for first-rate travel writing' (Publishers Weekly)

The City of Falling Angels - one of the longest-awaited literary encores in recent times - strikes many of the same notes as "Midnight". It, too, is set in one of history's blessed backwaters, a place of crumbling mansions and rococo intrigue. And it, too, teems with a diverse cast of aristocrats and lowlifes. (Adam Goodheart, New York Times Book Review)

An urbane, beautifully fashioned book with much exotic charm. . . Once again, Mr Berendt makes erudite, inquisitive, nicely sceptical company as he leads the reader through the shadows of what was heretofore better known as a tourist attraction. (Janet Maslin, New York Times)

'Thrilling and immediate, a compelling tapestry of eye-witness accounts.' (Independent on Sunday)

'Mr. Berendt has breathed deeply the air of the city of falling angels . . . splendidly entertaining.' (The Economist)

'He delivers an urbane, beautifully fashioned book with much exotic charm . . . erudite, inquisitive, nicely sceptical company' (Jane Maslin, International Herald Tribune)

'a cultured man, a persistent journalist and a vivid writer . . . a worthy addition to the vast literature about Venice.' (Independent)

'With his sharp eyes and sharp pen, he begins to penetrate the city's own shimmering mask.' (Scotsman)