Dunant’s intricate novel plunges the reader into 16th-century Rome and Venice, where the poor, the nobility, the government, and the Roman Catholic Church all prove hopelessly corrupt. It seems that while the clergy and the mobs advertise their fear of God, they also end up worshiping something altogether different in the beds of courtesans. This type of exploitative society fosters the creation of Fiammetta Bianchini, a young, ambitious prostitute, who has made a name for herself amongst the most learned of Romans. The novel, narrated by Bianchini’s faithful midget sidekick, Bucino, recounts how the Holy Roman Emperor’s anger with Pope Clement VII caused Rome to burn and the luckiest to flee. So, with jewels and hopes tucked in their guts, Bucino and Fiammetta escape to Venice, city of wealth and political security, where they devise a successful plan for Fiammetta’s ascent into the competitive world of high-class Venetian courtesans. While the premise is entertaining enough, the story reads somewhat hollowly. Like Chaucer, Dunant enjoys calling attention to her characters’ faults through forms of physical grotesquery: La Draga, a half-blind healer with a twisted back and sour smile, slinks through the streets in a cloud of mystery; Maragosa, the evil elderly housekeeper, has no charm to speak of and is as “thick as a cart.” But while Dunant tends to lend unnecessary exoticisms to her characters, her prose sometimes shines with unexpected rays of light. Whatever else can be said about the novel, one thing is for certain: It is brimming with opulent, detailed descriptions.