Olivia Laing's second novel, The Silver Book, presents itself as an ode to beauty - extravagant film sets, feasts, dazzling costumes - but beneath its sleek surface lies a hollow exploration of aesthetics. Set against the vibrant backdrop of Italian cinema in 1974, Laing weaves a narrative that appears to promise more than it delivers.
The protagonist, Nicholas, is drawn into a world of artistic intensity, meeting real-life set designer Danilo Donati and becoming embroiled in the production of Fellini's Casanova. Pasolini, a figure of immense allure, is woven throughout the novel as an avatar of creative courage. Laing has skillfully captured the essence of this period, but beneath her prose lies a shallow engagement with the complexities of the time.
Laing's writing can be both urgent and elegantly wrought, yet she struggles to balance the beauty of her descriptions with the weight of the events they portray. Instead of delving into the darker recesses of Salò, Pasolini's notorious masterpiece of fascist brutality, Laing opts for a sanitized narrative that sanitizes its power.
This is a novel trapped in its own medium, bound between book covers and Instagram feeds. It eschews ugliness and unseeable truths for an aesthetic of style, where the artful pose is valued above all else. Even Pasolini's murder, the central event to which Laing hints throughout the novel, remains opaque.
The Silver Book is a novel that sidesteps responsibility by focusing on beauty rather than truth. It presents itself as a celebration of art and creativity but ultimately serves as a shallow exploration of style over substance. This raises questions about the role of the artist in society and our collective culpability in crimes committed under systems we often ignore.
Ultimately, The Silver Book fails to deliver on its promise of depth. Laing risks nothing by exploring these themes, instead opting to safely distance herself from anything she perceives as uncomfortable or difficult.
The protagonist, Nicholas, is drawn into a world of artistic intensity, meeting real-life set designer Danilo Donati and becoming embroiled in the production of Fellini's Casanova. Pasolini, a figure of immense allure, is woven throughout the novel as an avatar of creative courage. Laing has skillfully captured the essence of this period, but beneath her prose lies a shallow engagement with the complexities of the time.
Laing's writing can be both urgent and elegantly wrought, yet she struggles to balance the beauty of her descriptions with the weight of the events they portray. Instead of delving into the darker recesses of Salò, Pasolini's notorious masterpiece of fascist brutality, Laing opts for a sanitized narrative that sanitizes its power.
This is a novel trapped in its own medium, bound between book covers and Instagram feeds. It eschews ugliness and unseeable truths for an aesthetic of style, where the artful pose is valued above all else. Even Pasolini's murder, the central event to which Laing hints throughout the novel, remains opaque.
The Silver Book is a novel that sidesteps responsibility by focusing on beauty rather than truth. It presents itself as a celebration of art and creativity but ultimately serves as a shallow exploration of style over substance. This raises questions about the role of the artist in society and our collective culpability in crimes committed under systems we often ignore.
Ultimately, The Silver Book fails to deliver on its promise of depth. Laing risks nothing by exploring these themes, instead opting to safely distance herself from anything she perceives as uncomfortable or difficult.
I'm feeling kinda meh about this new book by Olivia Laing 
She's got some great skills at writing, don't get me wrong! 
Her descriptions of 70s Italian cinema are straight fire 
But, imo, she misses the point when it comes to exploring the complexities of that time period 
I mean, we need more depth in our art and stories, you know? 
Instead, she's all about style over substance 
Pasolini's murder is basically just glossed over 
It feels like Laing's trying to have it both ways – being all beautiful and artistic on the outside, while hiding from the tough stuff inside 
Does anyone else feel like this book is more about aesthetics than actual truth? 
.
.
.
. I mean, I get it, beauty and all that jazz, but come on, gotta tackle the hard stuff too, right? 
, but isn't that kind of the point? It's like when you see a stunning sunset - does everyone need to dissect its chemistry or physics? Sometimes just appreciating the art for what it is is enough 
. Plus, Laing does weave Pasolini into the narrative in a really interesting way 
... even if she doesn't go all in on some super dark themes 
. Can't we just let ourselves get lost in the aesthetic without needing to analyze every single thread? 
. She touches on some heavy themes like fascism and artistic responsibility, but in a way that feels really superficial 
. It's like she's trying to make this beautiful, Instagram-worthy art piece instead of exploring the real issues 
. I wish she'd take some risks and push the conversation forward 
this book is like the ultimate example of how beauty can be a total cop-out 
laing tries to spin this gorgeous narrative about 70s italian cinema but it's all just a bunch of shallow vibes 
pasolini's murder is literally glossed over like it doesn't even matter 
her writing is def beautiful and all but at what cost? 
does she think we're all just gonna forget about salò and its impact on italian history just 'cause she's painting a pretty picture of 70s cinema 
she's definitely got some good points about pasolini and how he was like this total rebel but idk man, feels like laing is trying to avoid getting into some pretty heavy stuff 
, and we ended up stopping at this tiny little cafe that served the best gelato I've ever had in my life 
. The owner was this quirky old dude who could recite all these obscure movie quotes 
, it was like something out of a film noir 
. I guess you could say The Silver Book is all style and no substance 
, rather than something that really digs into the darker truths 
. Like she's afraid to go too deep into the darkness of Pasolini's masterpiece or even his own murder 
.
