I received a free copy of The Golden Manuscripts by Evy Journey from the author through Author Marketing Experts. All opinions are my own.
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About The Golden Manuscripts:
Clarissa Martinez, a biracial young woman has lived in seven different countries by the time she turns twenty. She thinks it’s time to settle in a place she could call home. But where?
She joins a quest for the provenance of stolen illuminated manuscripts, a medieval art form that languished with the fifteenth century invention of the printing press. For her, these ancient manuscripts elicit cherished memories of children’s picture books her mother read to her, nourishing a passion for art.
Though immersed in art, she’s naïve about life. She’s disheartened and disillusioned by the machinations the quest reveals of an esoteric, sometimes unscrupulous art world. What compels individuals to steal artworks, and conquerors to plunder them from the vanquished? Why do collectors buy artworks for hundreds of millions of dollars? Who decides the value of an art piece and how?
And she wonders—will this quest reward her with a sense of belonging, a sense of home?
You can purchase The Golden Manuscripts on Amazon.com
About the Author:
Evy Journey writes. Stories and blog posts. Novels that tend to cross genres. She’s also a wannabe artist, and a flâneuse.
Evy studied psychology (M.A., University of Hawaii; Ph.D. University of Illinois). So her fiction spins tales about nuanced characters dealing with contemporary life issues and problems. She believes in love and its many faces.
Her one ungranted wish: To live in Paris where art is everywhere and people have honed aimless roaming to an art form. She has visited and stayed a few months at a time.
Excerpt:
I sometimes wish I was your girl next door. The pretty one who listens to you and sympathizes. Doesn’t ask questions you can’t or don’t want to answer. Comes when you need to talk. She’s sweet, gracious, respectful, and sincere. An open book.
Everybody’s ideal American girl.
At other times, I wish I was the beautiful girl with creamy skin, come-hither eyes, and curvy lines every guy drools over. The one you can’t have, unless you’re a hunk of an athlete, or the most popular hunk around. Or you have a hunk of money.
But I’m afraid the image I project is that of a brain with meager social skills. The one you believe can outsmart you in so many ways that you keep out of her way—you know the type. Or at least you think you do. Just as you think you know the other two.
I want to believe I’m smart, though I know I can be dumb. I’m not an expert on anything. So, please wait to pass judgement until you get to know us better—all three of us. Who am I then?
I’m not quite sure yet. I’m the one who’s still searching for where she belongs. I’m not a typical American girl. Dad is Asian and Mom is white. I was born into two different cultures, neither of which dug their roots into me. But you’ll see my heritage imprinted all over me—on beige skin with an olive undertone; big grey eyes, double-lidded but not deep-set; a small nose with a pronounced narrow bridge; thick, dark straight hair
like Dad’s that glints with bronze under the sun, courtesy of Mom’s genes.
I have a family: Mom, Dad, Brother. Sadly, we’re no longer one unit. Mom and Dad are about ten thousand miles apart. And my brother and I are somewhere in between. I have no one I call friend. Except myself, of course. That part of me who perceives my actions for what they are.
My inner voice. My constant companion and occasional nemesis. Moving often and developing friendships lasting three years at most, I’ve learned to turn inward. And then there’s Arthur, my beautiful brother. Though we were raised apart, we’ve become close. Like me, he was born in the US.
But he grew up in my father’s home city where his friends call him Tisoy, a diminutive for Mestizo that sometimes hints at admiration, sometimes at mockery. Locals use the label for anyone with an obvious mix of Asian and Caucasian features. We share a few features, but he’s inherited a little more from Mom. Arthur has brown wavy hair and green eyes that invite remarks from new acquaintances.
Little Arthur, not so little anymore. Taller than me now, in fact, by two inches. We’ve always gotten along quite well. Except the few times we were together when we were children and he’d keep trailing me, like a puppy, mimicking what I did until I got annoyed. I’d scowl at him, run away so fast he couldn’t catch up. Then I’d close my bedroom door on him.
Sometimes I wondered if he annoyed me on purpose so that later he could hug me and say, “I love you” to soften me up. It always worked.
My Opinion:
Clarissa is a young woman who has immersed herself in the art world. Specifically in the study of illuminated manuscripts. An archaic art but one that fascinates and intrigues her. They return her to her childhood and the picture books her mother used to read to her.
As she immerses herself in the world of art and this very specific part of that world she begins to wonder if she will ever really belong anywhere in the real world. But it’s her very real knowledge that will bring her out into the open and into a world she never knew and one that will open wide for her - if she lets it.
A fast paced read full of well, illuminating tidbits and information about an art form that is often not appreciated as it should be. I’ve types of these manuscripts and they are something to behold. I can understand the attention they would bring.
If you have any interest in the art world or just like a good mystery this is the book for you.
Rating:
4.5
