“Leonardo da Vinci: Flights of the Mind. A Biography”, by Charles Nicholl

640 pages, Viking, ISBN-13: 978-0670033454

Sigmund Freud Lives! At least according to Charles Nicholl in his biography Leonardo da Vinci: Flights of the Mind. A Biography. While reading this otherwise involved and worthwhile book, Nicholls time and again reinforces his Freudian worldview by inserting various psychoanalytical declarations about how this painting displayed mommy issues or that bridge was the result of a daddy complex. I mean, really: Freud?! Hasn’t that quack’s theories and obsessions been put paid yet? I mean, the damn thing was published in 2004, so it’s not like this is some kind of 1970s pseudo-intellectual dreck here.

Alright, enough of that: for all of the Freudian nonsense, Flights of the Mind is exactly what it purports to be: the biography of the man who, for many people, embodied the Renaissance and all it was meant to be; as such it is a very good historical life, filled with well-sourced details and well, if not profusely, illustrated. It may not, however, appeal to all readers with an interest in Leonardo “The Genius” da Vinci, for while acknowledging that label as well-deserved, Nicholl is more interested in exploring the Leonardo “The Real Man” da Vinci, particularly the artist. For it is evident that Nicholl was definitely most interested in da Vinci as a painter, speculating as he does about the origins, possible models and hidden meanings of Leonardo’s paintings ad nauseam, while giving competent, but relatively brief, treatments of most of Leonardo’s many other accomplishments that didn’t involve a paintbrush. Perhaps as a result, this chronological narrative is almost surprisingly unthematic: aside from some recurrent references to Leonardo’s fascination with flight, the book does not pursue many interpretations of either the man or his work, personal or historical; so, notwithstanding the Flights of the Mind subtitle – and all of those meaningless Freudian speculations – Nicholl concentrates on working through the detailed historical materials. The result arguably is a very sound history of Leonardo, rather than an interpretive biography.

Nicholl commands a diversity of materials, but relies especially on Leonardo’s notebooks, and gives particular attention to many unfinished paintings and sculptures and other uncompleted projects; this, I think, is best, for while it can be difficult teasing through all of Leonardo’s many half-thoughts and squiggly doodles, they provide the best insight into what the man was thinking and when. The level of detail and tracing of personal connections, of value to historians and of interest to those wishing to delve as deeply as possible, may prove a bit much at times for general readers; as the extensive notes to this volume demonstrate, this is a scholarly biography, not a popular short work. This does not mean that Nicholl’s style is dry or academic, as he moves the narrative well across several bite-sized chapters that make the ingestion of all this material easier. But this is not dramatic reading and offers few surprises; although Nicholl does not hesitate to speculate when the evidence is limited or mixed, he does so candidly and with balance, so the reader may accept his opinion or not. In short, Flights of the Mind a great deal more about the life and work of an extraordinary individual, if not necessarily what drove or moved him.