This book is simply lovely. The tenderness infused in this book, entwined so deeply with the tension and the passion and the innocence, is intoxicating in its way and rather reflective of the art itself.

"...The women in his paintings—he traps them in his world. You can get lost there."

I was rather hesitant to begin this book. Again, a fear I had of it not living up to expectations held me back. I knew the movie. Even upon my first viewing of it, I felt that the beauty it managed to capture in a world of grays and bleakness was mesmerizing. Not to mention, Colin Firth. He has always brought a sincerity to his roles that I admire. And, the young Scarlett Johansson, did well in capturing the purity of character found in Griet.

Such a simple story, but it is told with such hidden strength and energy through the eyes of Griet. There were three scenes I didn't want to find had been created for the movie and had been missing from this book. The movie seems such a faithful adaptation, but still such a expression apart from the wonder in Chevalier's novel.

My three little mini-scenes were intact.

The clouds.

I became so excited I actually pointed. I had been looking at clouds all my life, but I felt as if I saw them for the first time at that moment.

The hair.

I turned round, my hands still in my hair. He stood on the threshold, gazing at me.
I lowered my hands. My hair fell in waves over my shoulders, brown like fields in the autumn. No one ever saw it but me.
"Your hair," he said. He was no longer angry.
At last he let me go with his eyes.

And, the earring being pushed into her lobe.

The delicacy Chevalier uses in such tautly wrought scenes is extraordinary. So uncomplicated, so suggestive.

This was my first Chevalier and it will not be my last.