Carlo Crivelli

This monumental study of the 15th-century Italian painter Carlo Crivelli by art historian Lightbrown is clearly intended for those who are already well informed about early Renaissance art. For people who don't, for example, use the phrase ""di sotto in su perspective"" in everyday conversation, the book may appear to be an unnavigable thicket of learned references. This is a shame, for behind the forbidding walls of Lightbrown's eggheaded prose lies the story of a mysterious, compelling artist who has clearly captured the writer's imagination. In one of his rare flashes of liveliness, Lightbrown gushes with endearing enthusiasm over the perfectly realized cucumbers in Crivelli's altar paintings. The author is generally at his best when acting as a leisurely tour guide for specific paintings, decoding every symbol and pointing out Crivelli's many curious mannerisms. (Among other things, the painter had a thing for upright rocks and clearly defined sinews.) Even at these times, though, Lightbrown's dry-as-dust approach can wear out the most motivated of readers. His unwillingness to give greater voice to his own passion for the subject is only part of the problem. More importantly, Lightbrown offers an overwhelming quantity of facts but very little in the way of an organizing narrative. His work is a model of scholarly diligence, and the sheer number of reproductions alone makes it an invaluable reference tool. A big idea or two to give it shape, and a few more moments of enthusiasm for perfect cucumbers, would have made it readable as well.