This is first of all a literary travelogue where art is the central focus, and the naughtiness in art is the vital hub. At the same time, this is also a memoir woven into the canvas of a two-week-long Italian sightseeing tour.
A man, who would eventually become the protagonist’s third husband, has an impeccable pedigree. He attended a Swiss boarding school, followed by Harvard. This auspicious beginning was followed by a life of international travel, global investment, and friendships with heads of states and cabinet ministers.
The protagonist, who has a small daughter, is still married to the girl’s father when she first meets the world-weary, 20+ years-older Man of the World. She calls him the Last of the Mohicans ( the Mohican for short) and as the narrative unfolds, it becomes clear that the two men are as different as their monikers imply.
The story is written from the perspective of the protagonist’s twelve-year marriage to the Man of the World this time, and starts off with the her brooding on her ill luck with matrimony. The mood soon changes, however, because rather than exacerbate her gloom by digging into wretchedness, she chooses to make her life (and hopefully that of her readers) newly enchanted with mirth, with mischief, and with her beloved art – most particularly with the wickedness in art – for art, unlike men, is forever noble, even in its most ignoble disguise. To this end, she attempts to recreate the feelings of wonderment and bliss of her first Italian sojourn with the Man of the World, directly followed by the arrival of a group of art lovers who give her an opportunity to introduce a slew of fresh characters, while keeping the “Man of the World – Mohican” thread ever at hand.
