Michelangelo's Mountain: The Quest for Perfection in the Marble Quarries of Carrara

An early reference to marble work in Lee, Massachusetts caught my attention and drew me deep into this unique and fascinating account of the marble quarries that provided the raw material for the genius that we all now know as Michelangelo. I glimpsed the quarries from a train window on a trip to Italy a year ago, mistakening them for snow at first, and it's an amazing sight. I highly recommend this book - the stone that inspired the Rennaissance is still there and this story of the mountains of marble is told with a passion that reflects the emotion of those times. A great read.

All of the people who think "Michelangelo" when they think of the Renaissance should read this work by a "Renaissance man" himself, Eric Scigliano, environmental journalist, humorist, art aficianado, and regular contributor to Harper's, Discover, and other magazines. I read his last book, "Love, War, and Circuses," which brought the world and land of the Asian elephant so alive I felt as if I were on his harrowing adventures with him, and have been seeking out his articles ever since. Both the layman and the expert alike will be fascinated by one of the few real prose stylists in journalism to write a part-biography, part-"reporter's notebook" account of Michelangelo, the city of Cararra (the third pole of Michelangelo's artistic endeavors, and no less important than Florence in the development of his masterpieces), and the rare, wondrous, "living" marble from that fascinating source of masterpieces the world over. Don't be distracted by the geological sidenotes or short discussions of the artists' tools; in Michelangelo's first appearance it is as if he walked up to a group of wiry, spry stone carvers and this journalist/artist/poetry translator, said hello, and joined them, as alive as ever, to admire the "mountain," a glistening white cliff of fossilized sea shells (you can't get much more alive, for stone, than being made out of the backs of ocean-dwellers, as marble is). A passionate writer on a passionate subject, Scigliano's love for the artist and his sunlit-snow-like inspiration is "alive" on every page (and I learned enough about the Renaissance to wax intelligent at parties on neoplatonism, Michelangelo's own poetry, and the Umberto-eco-like intrigues of the patronage system, just in the first 50 pages!). You will never look at the "David," or a marble bathroom counter, in quite the same way. Scigliano is a huge talent.

Of the millions of people who have stood in line waiting at Florence's Galleria dell' Academia di Belle Arte to see the incomparable statue of David by Michelangelo, I wonder how many thought about the marble with which the artist worked. Very few, I'd imagine. Yet the story of the marble quarries of Carrara is as dramatic as many of the beautiful pieces wrought from their stone. Eric Scigliano, whose ancestors were quarrymen and stone carvers in Carrara, relates the fascinating story of Michelangelo's search for the stone he wanted, his continuing relationship with the city where he found it, and that city today. Only recently the 17-foot-tall statue of David was restored, and the world was reminded of its beauty. Scigliano reminds us of the risks taken by quarrymen and by Michelangelo himself as they worked together to find the perfect stone, one that would do justice to Michelangelo's vision. The artist's quest is set among the machinations and maneuvering of Renaissance Rome, Florence, and Carrara, a compelling story in itself. Readers will learn that there is over 2,000 years of "extractive industry" in Carrara, and it continues today. During his lifetime, Michelangelo probably spent two years there, first arriving in 1498 to find the stone for the Pieta. In regard to the San Lorenzo Church facade, there was all but open warfare between the Carrara marble masters and the Medici rulers in Rome and Florence. Author Scigliano researched assiduously, laboriously searching Renaissance archives and often deciphering documents that had not been translated before. The result is a memorable work, one that will fascinate not only art lovers and historians but all. - Gail Cooke