I read cozy and historical mysteries, a bit of Paranormal/UF, and to mix it up, I read science and gardening books on occasion.
This book was initially all about the cover love for me - I could not stop looking at the cover whenever I saw it. I also liked that the story line was about a lost painting, but I wasn't sure it was really my thing. So I checked it out of the library, read the first bit, and bought the book for myself. Then it went to the back burner during Halloween Book Bingo.
Last night I devoured the last 75%. I was right, it's not quite my kind of jam, but it was so good. The narrative is divided between two time-lines, the 1930's Spain, and the 1960's, London, but the author broke these up by sections, rather than chapters, which kept the transitions more seamless. For me, at the beginning of the book, the predominant timeline was the 60's, but as the book progressed it rapidly became all about what happened in the 30's. What an ungodly mess it was, too.
This is one of those books that stayed with me when I finished it and my thoughts are scattered all over the place about it, so I'll just say this: the writing was gorgeous, the story was tragic, and oh I love that cover!