A Bed of Earth: The Secret Books of Venus

In a version of renassaince Venice not too far different from that in our own history, doomed love works its magic. Two families have feuded for centuries over a stretch of land in a graveyard. Generations later, the feud continues, working its destructive force on the children of the noble families. Meralda, a dela Scorpio, falls for a handsome painter but is betrayed by her servant and by the heir to the Barbarons. Beatrixa, daughter of the Barbaron, falls for a ghost spirit who claims to be a dela Scorpio. And Bartolome, the gravedigger, finds his true love too late. Author Tanith Lee creates a fascinating world where magic treads just lightly enough to make history into something colorful and wonderful. Her richly drawn characters, especially Silvio and Beatrixa, with their doomed love, cannot help create reader sympathy and fascination. Lee's descriptions of her mythical Venice (Venus) ring true both for the Venice of our own history and for that of myth. Readers looking for action and adventure will not find much of that here. Instead, A BED OF EARTH is a strange and doomed romance, a poem of people and souls, and a bit of philosophy.

The art of alchemy is in the transformation. The third book in Lee's alchemically-based series set in a magical Venice follows this theme closer than the other novels in the series. It starts out as dark as imaginable. Feuding families, dark secrets, supernatural vendettas. But the novel changes, from a black-hearted to tragedy to a twilight-hued romance. The novel follows the fates of people involved in a particularly cruel prank-and all manner of comeuppance-not excluding forgiveness-is played out. It's a mélange of gothic horror, morality fable, and historical romance as only Lee can tell it. Her usual strengths are on display-fever dream imagery ("The eels leapt through the lagoon, like silver whips, fracturing the mirror-moon..."), erotica, devilish twists of fate and the odd historical anecdote. It is a bit more phantasmal than usual, but that's hardly a sin.