The City Of Falling Angels

All Books are second hand
John Berendt
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The first time I went to Venice, I remember simultaneously wiping my eyes and holding my nose. The opalescent haze which refracted colour and made it dance in the moist air was exactly as Turner painted it; but nothing - not even the fables of Venetian corruption and moral subsidence by Henry James and Thomas Mann - had prepared me for the place's foul, festering smell. In The City of Falling Angels, John Berendt explains why Venice stinks. The canals, an environmental chemist tells him, are open sewers.