Read as a trashy mystery novel, there's really nothing objectionable about this.

However, for some inexplicable reason, I was truly anticipating more.

What was particularly vexing was the villain.

He had a needlessly convoluted and largely pointless plan that appeared to exist solely for the sake of the novel's existence.

When the villain finally delivered an explanatory monologue at the conclusion, the reasoning was, quite frankly, rather offensive (and it seemed to be so unintentionally).

The chess and historical subplots ultimately came across as rather shallow.

The chess, in particular, seemed far too basic to support much of a plot, yet at the same time, it was treated with an excessive amount of respect and symbolic significance by the characters.

It was as if the author was trying too hard to make something out of nothing.

Overall, while the novel had its moments, it failed to live up to my expectations.

It felt like a missed opportunity to create a truly engaging and thought-provoking mystery.

Political thrillers are not among my preferences. The painting doesn't attract me. Chess bores me (it reminds me too much of the obligation to participate in chess lessons in high school). Unfortunately, this book contains all of them. In addition, there are some characters that are even more unbelievable gathered in one place (an antiques dealer too precious and pedantic to win my favor, a drug-addicted gallery patron with an air of connoisseur and far too vulgar to be likeable, an art restorer a bit too banal, and a misanthropic chess player who still saves the book because he is the only one who seems authentic). Ah, and if we add the unnaturalness of the translation of expressions and phrases from Spanish into Romanian... one can understand why I gave "The Flamenco Painting" only 3 stars, although at one point I would have given it even 2. However, I also liked some things: the descriptive part of the restoration of the painting, the analysis of the image, the parallel with the true story, and perhaps I would have also liked the chess player's strategies if I liked chess. It is possible that those passionate about this sport will enjoy this book to the maximum. I had a completely wrong theory about who the criminal could be, but it seems that even the real one didn't charm me.

In general, I really like Pérez Reverte's novels. That's why I was very eager to read La tabla de Flandes, one of his earliest novels, of which I had read very laudatory reviews. In addition, it is linked to another of my passions, chess, so the formula couldn't fail. Or so I thought.

However, for one reason or another, the reading had been postponed until today.

The book I liked, I wouldn't dare to say otherwise. It is a good thriller, with some touches of the classic police story (in some aspects, it reminded me of Agatha Christie, for better or for worse).

But it was still a bit of a disappointment. Of Pérez Reverte's works, I would dare to say that it is the one I have enjoyed the least so far.

Here are the reasons:

1. I thought it was the least "Revertian" (if that adjective doesn't exist, I should patent it) of his novels:

Many of the features that I like most about this Murcian author are conspicuously absent in this novel. For example, his works usually take place in different historical periods, with the careful setting being a standout. Even the speech of the characters usually adapts to the era in which the events unfold. La tabla de Flandes, on the other hand, takes place in the present.

In addition, although in Pérez Reverte's works there are usually mysteries, especially associated with some crime, I don't know why in this novel the nature of the enigmas reminded me more of Dan Brown's works than his own (although, in defense of the Murcian, his novel was published more than a decade before The Da Vinci Code).

2. For a novel where chess is so relevant, the technical aspect of the game is rather neglected:

On the one hand, the system he uses to record the moves doesn't exist. It's a mixture between the two systems that are used, the algebraic and the descriptive, but it's not specifically either of the two.

In the second place, and this is already much more relevant, the novel presents two enigmas: one historical, which is solved in the first few pages (although Muñoz, the "best chess player in Madrid", takes three days to solve a move that any enthusiast could deduce with just a few minutes of observation) and one contemporary, which is ciphered in a strange game of chess that is developing between Muñoz himself and a mysterious chess player, who is also a ruthless assassin. The problem with this game is that although both are supposed to be expert players, most of the moves they make (especially at the beginning) are simply horrible. It's not just that they're not the best; they're bad on purpose. Some make no sense at all. One side goes from being winning to being almost lost from one move to the next just because, only because of how terribly bad their decisions were. And you don't have to be an expert to notice; any enthusiast with a bit of an idea, by analyzing the positions a little, you can see it. It's not always easy to find the best move, but you do realize that it's not any of the ones the players are making. And it kind of takes you out of the story, to be honest.

3. The ending, very far-fetched:

The resolution of the second enigma is not entirely bad, but it doesn't close completely either.

On the one hand, the assassin is who by that point was already more or less expected and the way they discover him has (some) logic.

But, on the other hand, in the explanation that is given at the end (in the best style of the classic police stories) some secondary enigmas have really ridiculous resolutions. For example, the existence of a mysterious blonde who appears at several moments in the story is justified with a cheap trick that reminds me of the worst stories of Agatha Christie. I'm keeping the details to not spoil it, but it's really ridiculous.

Kryminał is a story that contains all the classic motifs, yet it is completely non-classical.

We are dealing with a mystery from the 15th century that is hidden within a painting.

The painter, Peter van Huys, painted a domestic scene with people playing chess and covered one of the inscriptions with a layer of paint.

Julia, a young art conservator, discovers the inscription while working on the painting and begins an investigation: Who killed the knight? On the chessboard and in life.

It turns out that solving the mystery from the past will also require her to face the dangers of the present.

This is a novel full of dynamism, with interesting artistic and chess-related details. If you like crime novels and mysteries, don't hesitate. Don't be scared off by the chess elements, as they are important but also interestingly introduced and explained.

P.S. I'm not a fan of the ending, but it didn't ruin the whole thing for me!

This book, which is my second encounter with the author's works, holds all the elements that should ideally make it a captivating read. It encompasses art, medieval history, and mystery. However, after spending several days laboriously plowing through it, I have come to the conclusion that the main mystery is overly contrived and lacks believability. The 20-page exposition at the end by the villain does little to enhance the situation. Moreover, the other elements seem to be mere garnishes rather than integral parts of the story.

There are indeed numerous literary allusions, but they become tiresome after a while, especially the ones related to the Sherlock Holmes stories. The artistic references, such as those to Breughel, Bosch, and Bach, also seem random and incidental to the main plot, unlike in "The Name of the Rose Including Postscript" by Umberto Eco. The so-called "mystery" within the painting, despite the many ominous hints earlier in the story, turns out to be hardly a mystery at all, which is doubly disappointing considering the weak main whodunit practically crumbles under its own weight.

That being said, I must admit that the chess game aspect of the story is completely beyond my comprehension, and I am largely unaware of its role in the mystery. What ultimately salvages this novel are the strengths that become more evident in Perez-Reverte's subsequent works like "The Club Dumas": the atmospheric portrayal of old-world European cities and the creative utilization of arcana.

SPOILER WARNING. Do not read the following if you don't wish to discover the ending.

Munoz, the Sherlock-like figure and chess master in the novel, stumbles upon the solution to the mystery through a pseudo-Freudian analysis of his mysterious opponent in the chess game. His theory posits that men and women players betray their gender identity by favoring certain pieces, and the homosexual villain is revealed because he chooses to indulge his feminine side by favoring the bishop, which he claims is "the chess piece that best embodies homosexuality" due to its "deep, diagonal movement". Munoz also has another theory about how chess is not only oedipal but also "anal sadistic", but let's not delve into that. Later, it is revealed that the villain has been using a computer program to play, thus disproving Munoz's far-fetched analysis. It is a clever subversion of the omniscient detective archetype, but it also means that Munoz discovers the solution by sheer chance rather than through deductive ability. Additionally, we never learn whether Julia and Munoz carry out Cesar's criminal plan to sell the painting on the black market. I wish Perez-Reverte had enlightened us on this and explored some of its legal and moral implications. It would have truly elevated him to the status of an excellent storyteller in my eyes.

"Klasyczek" is a term that holds a certain charm and significance. It often refers to something that is classic or traditional.

In the world of art, a klasyczek could be a painting that has withstood the test of time, its beauty and style still captivating audiences today.

In literature, it might be a novel or poem that is considered a masterpiece, filled with profound themes and beautiful language.

Even in fashion, a klasyczek can be a timeless piece of clothing that never goes out of style.

The concept of klasyczek represents a sense of quality, elegance, and durability. It reminds us of the importance of preserving and appreciating the things that have stood the test of time and continue to inspire us.

Whether it's a work of art, a literary gem, or a stylish garment, a klasyczek is something that we can cherish and pass on to future generations.

Here we have a slow-paced intellectual detective story for lovers of chess, painting, and historical puzzles. It seemed that everything I loved was in it, but something went wrong. The book didn't impress me with either the plot or the characters.

If at the beginning I was still reading with a certain excitement, expecting something extraordinary, then after the 50th page, the interest disappeared. The constant repetitions in the dialogues and the philosophical musings did nothing but increase the boredom.

The main heroine never let go of a cigarette (strangely, how did she restore the painting?) and saw visions from the past in her dreams. Her friend couldn't part with cocaine. As for the male characters, they are eccentric basics - a gay antiques dealer and a genius chess player with a dull gaze.

The ending with the endless monologue of the murderer, who supposedly explains everything, leaves one in a stupor.

In a word, I didn't click with this author.

Wow, this might be one of the most unexpected and extremely satisfying discoveries for me in 2019.

It's a book with a mysterious fictional space that made me feel as if I were reading 'The Shape of the Wind', along with an extremely strange plot.

It's not difficult to keep up with the fast-paced and light text, along with the mental battles on the chessboard with the excellent hidden master, or the mystery behind the self-concealment of a smart and crazy murderer, thanks to the author's very attractive way of telling the story.

The graceful and vivid sentences, rich in symbolism, with a hint of hidden sadness and a very strong mysterious color covering the whole book, have brought an extremely enjoyable reading experience.

It has been a long time since I read a book that combines chess, symbolism, literature, and music so delicately.

Finally, the author presents the reader with an ending that, for me, is not overly outstanding but very suitable for the story, because the character system has clearly shown their personalities, and as Sherlock Holmes said, when people have eliminated all the impossible possibilities, the remaining possibility, no matter how unbelievable it may be, must be the truth.

Highly recommended for reading.

This book trapped me almost from the very first page.

Both the mystery hidden within the painting and its investigation seemed incredible to me, undoubtedly the best part of the story.

Once that mystery was solved, the protagonists had to face a new mystery that they would be part of and because of which they would find themselves in a dangerous adventure. Regarding this second part, it cannot be said that the level of the book goes down, however, it becomes a little more repetitive.

This is the second book I have read by this author and I would dare to say that he is a master at creating an atmosphere of intrigue and mystery that hooks you quickly. For this reason, I give the book 4 stars.

The reasons why I cannot give it 5 stars are as follows:

1. The last 60 pages of the story have a large psychological component (like a large part of the story, but even greater) that at times has made it difficult for me to understand. Also, these psychological traits of the characters are used to justify behaviors and attitudes that, in my opinion, are completely unjustifiable.

2. The characters fall quite into the cliché, especially César, the homosexual friend of the protagonist. Menchu, another friend of the protagonist, has a completely ridiculous and exaggerated behavior that causes embarrassment. In summary, the protagonists did not manage to please me and caused me quite a lot of rejection for most of the time.

Słabiutkie to

is a Polish word that may have various meanings depending on the context. It could refer to something or someone that is weak, delicate, or fragile. In a physical sense, it might describe a person with a slender or frail build, or an object that is easily breakable or damaged. However, the term can also have a more abstract or emotional connotation. It could imply a lack of strength or resilience in character, such as being easily influenced, having low self-esteem, or being overly sensitive. Additionally, słabiutkie to might be used to describe a situation or relationship that is vulnerable or unstable. Overall, the meaning of słabiutkie to is quite broad and can be applied in different ways to describe a range of characteristics, qualities, or circumstances.

The Unfinished Painting - it is a secret within which other secrets lie.
I really liked the construction of the novel and the completely uncomplicated narrative. I was even more surprised that the author admits that "My first novels were boring. The plot didn't matter to me, only the style" (from here), because "The Flanders Panel" is one of the first works of Arturo Perez-Reverte.
It makes an impression that:
• The painting was conceived for the novel. True, the games with interpretations were finally tiring (à la the looking glass in the mirror that needs to be looked at with a looking glass), because as seen, I didn't like it.
• The reproduction of the chess games. I almost got used to following and trying to predict, but I don't have the skills to do that in my mind, and I was tempted to take the chessboard.
What I didn't like:
• It gave the impression that there was not enough craftsmanship to embed the concept into a natural, unified work: the mind evaluates the ideas and the concept, but there is no pleasure in reading.
• The involved attitude towards sexuality. The nun, who in those days was considered a rebel in terms of attitude (much better, she groans, changes lovers, and, most importantly, dares to disagree with men), not only is killed, but "Sijonas is horribly attracted to them and the neck of the bottle is stuffed into the opening." (p. 259). Well, and Cezaris is a typical evil homosexual - I didn't notice it at first, but the discussions about the book convinced me. And where else is there a mistake in the analysis of the chess pieces from a homosexual point of view (for which he was accused, of course). Because of all this, the 1990 novel seems rather outdated.
• The greatest sin that a detective author can commit in his works is to hide the culprits from the reader and then pull the rabbit out of the hat and explain everything. In this case, it was the photo of Cezario found among the young finalists of the tournament in the 1945 chess magazines of Munjoso.
I didn't believe that the mystery of the painting would be solved so quickly - the answer becomes clear already on page 116 (out of 358 pages). Therefore, the last three pages of the novel with Beatrice of Burgundy fall from the sky, because I had completely forgotten about this line of the novel.
In 1994, the British filmed the novel under the title "Uncovered" (director Jim McBride).
P.S. On the lighter side, the book is also reminded by the very successful autocorrect: Rožjė de Araso and gRožjė.

The ranking of genres by GR members is Mystery, Historical Fiction, Thriller. It is indeed all of these.

I note that Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone has the same genres, although in a slightly different order. I looked into this because I wonder if Arturo Pérez-Reverte will eventually also be included with other classics. For both his writing style and plot, I think he certainly deserves such a place.

I tend to expect more of characterization with modern authors. Here, the main characters are drawn well enough, though I think no one would call them spectacular.

The basis for this novel is a painting by the 15th Century Flemish painter Van Huys. I am not certain if this is a real painting, but it doesn't matter. Front and center in this painting are two men playing chess. The premise is that there is a story associated with the painting, and part of the story is that one of the men in the painting died 2 years earlier and therefore could not have been sitting for the artist. So what was Van Huys trying to say here? Does Van Huys use the placement of the chess pieces to tell more of the story than would be immediately discerned? (And yes, it would be very helpful for the reader to have at least a rudimentary understanding of the game.)

All of that makes it sound as if this novel takes place contemporary to the painting. However, that is not the case. First published in 1990, the novel is contemporary. I say this even though there are no cell phones and no internet. Honestly, I didn't even notice those absences - telephone booths seemed entirely normal. And there is more contemporary mystery than whatever Van Huys did or did not include in his painting. This is definitely at the top of my ratings for the mystery genre and might even be 5-stars, though I won't color in that last one.