Review: The Art Thief By Noah Charney

The great thing about literature is that sometimes it really adds to your life in more ways than simply entertaining you.

Sometimes, a great book can kickstart a new interest or hobby; it can make you aware of ideas, people or places you had never considered before and can leave a lasting impression on your thoughts, behaviour or even lifestyle.

Now, I'm not saying that Noah Charney's tale of people nicking stupidly priced daubs is a masterpiece, far from it. But it came along at just the right time for me. Recently I've found a new interest springing up in my soul. People who know me well will say, 'oh yeah?' and try to cover their mouth as they yawn, because I tend to develop a new fascination with something obsessive every other week. But I think this one might be a keeper, simply because it's so unexpected.

I never thought I'd say this, but recently I've developed a fledgling interest in art history. Not the nonsense that art school twats turn out these days, I've never had time for that and I've always tended to think of art in general as highly over-rated and a place for dickheads to hide their lack of talent. Last week I bought 1001 Paintings You Must See Before You Die and the 20th and 21st century chapters were almost entirely filled with primary school rejects; good canvases ruined by someone drawing three lines and a dot and calling it 'a reflection on the futility of life' or some such rhubarb - needless to say, those chapters were pretty much skipped.

But real art, the stuff turned out when people had less tolerance for arty-farty-ism and you were likely to get your head lopped off if you dared portray the king's nose in a way he didn't like, is actually very interesting indeed. Because proper art does actually speak a language which is concealed from the viewer unless you research it a bit and, you know what, it's kinda fascinating.

It started years ago with my first visit to Rome, a city absolutely stuffed to the gills with beautiful and breathtaking works of art, from paintings to buildings. When I went a second time, I'm afraid my art knowledge came from Dan Brown's Angels and Demons, rather than any higher minded source. But, say what you like about that novel, it did at least introduce art and sculpture to the masses and following his false trail around the Eternal City was both fun and educational.

A few weeks ago I watched a couple of documentaries about the Baroque movement, purely because the first episode looked at Rome, and to my surprise, I found it mesmerising. The codes and iconography to be found in great paintings, not as part of some conspiracy but simply because good painters are genuinely trying to say something, is captivating and left me keen to know more. So I bought the art book and it really did open my eyes even further.

Then I remembered that a couple of Christmases ago, a relative kindly gave me a bumper pack of cheaply produced paperbacks which I had kind of forgotten about, one of which was The Art Thief. So I thought I'd give it a whirl. Written by a genuine art crime expert, it gave some fascinating insights into that world and even mentioned some of the paintings in my new non-fiction book, leading to the cross-referencing between fact and fiction that can make this sort of reading such a joy.

Now, don't get me wrong, The Art Thief isn't going to win the Orange Prize any time soon. But it was entertaining enough, even if it was a bit top heavy on facts sometimes - Charney's central character, Gabriel Coffin, is a charismatic art crime expert (wonder where he got that idea) and the snippets from his lectures are a thinly disguised device for the author to show off his own knowledge. By the end, I'd had enough, particularly as I lost track of the twisty-turny plot about halfway through. Paintings are stolen, fakes turn up in their place, which have in turn been painted over originals, which turn out to be fakes anyway.....uh???

While some of the supporting characters, such as the droopy London detective and his entertainingly quirky French counterparts, are nicely done and add a bit more depth to proceedings, Coffin is too two-dimensional - handsome, rich, smooth, a smartypants - to really hold much interest. And the twist barely merits a brief shrug of the shoulders, let alone a shocked intake of breath. But it gave me a bit more of a steer on how to read paintings so in my world, it has done its job.