This one really came out of nowhere for me. I added it to the to-read pile on the strength of its being part of the New York Times best books of 2024 list, but my expectations for the book were middling. Historical fiction, late 19th century, Brits being Brits (no need to scream: I am well aware that Wilde was Irish-born, but the focus of the book is very much British)... What could go wrong? But also, what could possibly catch me off-guard? Welp, consider me bowled over. The book strikes a fine balance between an indictment of Wilde's "deserting" his family and an empathetic account of the passionate affair that took over his life. Bayard does a phenomenal job of capturing the sparkling wit that we would all like to think permeated Wilde's life at all times. Everyone is so gosh-darned pithy, it's an all-you-can-read quip buffet. Realistic? I couldn't say, but who needs that, anyway? Constance Lloyd rises like so much rich cream to the top of the whole narrative. She's at once a martyr to her husband's dalliances and a strikingly modern female figure. Act five of this "Novel in Five Acts" is unexpectedly optimistic, like a splash of magical realism to exorcise the bleakness that precedes it. I'm sure you could criticize it for being too much of a Hollywood ending, but I'm on board with it anyway.