Review by Booklist Review
Francisco Goya's Portrait of the Duke of Wellington is one of the treasures of Britain's National Gallery, and in 1961, it was stolen in what Noah Charney (The Art of Forgery, 2015), who provides the introduction to legal scholar, expert witness, and writer Hirsch's inquiry, considers one of the most bizarre incidents in the history of art theft. Four years later, an unlikely culprit, one Kempton Bunton, claimed responsibility for the theft, and his story takes center stage in this entertaining narrative, which twists and turns until it culminates in a curious courtroom drama. But the story doesn't end there because more than 50 years after the verdict, Hirsch digs deeper into the case and unearths new evidence that points to others involved in the crime. Set against London in the Swinging Sixties, this gripping story of a hapless art thief, a prized work of art, and the workings of the British justice system makes for an intriguing addition to the annals of modern art history.--Mulac, Carolyn Copyright 2016 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
This colorful true-crime story makes a zany whodunit out of an art heist that stunned England's National Gallery in London more than 50 years ago. In late August of 1961, the Duke of Wellington by Spanish painter Francisco Goya, a national treasure purchased months earlier for £140,000, disappeared from the museum. Over the next four years, the thief tried unsuccessfully to ransom the return of the painting through letters sent to Reuters and other news outlets. Two months after the painting was returned unharmed in 1965, Kempton Bunton, a 61-year-old gadabout, confessed to the crime, claiming as his motive that he had hoped the ransom could help pay for license fees that the government charged old-age pensioners to watch television. The trial that followed was a farrago of contradictory claims by the plaintiff and missed opportunities for the prosecution that ended with Bunton escaping sentencing on the grounds that he had always intended to return the purloined portrait (although he did serve time for the destruction of its frame). Hirsch writes his debut book's opening chapters like a finely tuned suspense thriller, alternating chapters of biography about the irascible and very unreliable Bunton and the authorities' investigation of the crime and its clues. His description of Bunton's amusing trial is the stuff of an Ealing Studios comic crime caper. The book's surprise ending perfectly caps this story of the unlikely art thief who made sport of his nation's criminal justice system. (Apr.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Who was the clever thief who snatched Goya's portrait of the Duke of Wellington from the National Gallery in London in 1961? He was well-read, if not learned, too clever by half, and clearly talented in the burglar's arts. Hirsch (Chair, Justice and Law Studies Program/Williams Coll.) felt the deed and the perpetrator needed further investigation. The man who confessed, Kempton Bunton, was an elderly, unpublished author who had a difficult time maintaining any sort of employment. The author explores a host of questions that had puzzled London police, as well as some that didn't occur to them. Why did the theft take place on Aug. 22, 1961, exactly 50 years after the Mona Lisa went missing from the Louvre? How could an older, overweight man possibly have entered the museum through a lavatory window after scaling walls topped with barbed wire? Why did he say he got in between 4 and 5 a.m. when the loss was first noticed at 10 p.m.? This story has all the potential of a great mystery and a thrilling crime story. Hirsch was the first to get his hands on an autobiography Bunton wrote just a few years after the fact, in which he explained how he stole the painting, stored it, wrote a series of letters trying to collect ransom, and eventually returned it. He turned himself in, claiming that, as he had no criminal intent and no intention of permanently keeping the painting, he could not be found guilty. Unfortunately, here the author's legal side takes over the narrative. The details of the investigation, the trial with interminable prosecutorial repetition of questions, examining every aspect over and over, and the judge's clear disbelief take a fun tale and drag it out. The author may have solved the case in the end, but by that time, interest is pretty well lost. A great subject overwhelmed by legal minutiae. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
