His writing is vivid, precise and constantly surprising. I was absolutely captivated by it . . . I wish I’d written it

Sparkling and lavishly detailed . . . rich without being cloying; resonant of time and place while remaining fresh and modern . . . he captures brilliantly the downfall and partial redemption of this charming isolate

Full-bodied yet razor-sharp . . . Period detail, which so often reveals only that the writer has commendably and carefully studied a contemporary portrait, in Miller’s hands takes us into the heart of 18th-century London so that we can almost smell and touch it . . . its fetid atmosphere almost making the reader itch

Miller’s prose is jewelled . . . What Casanova wrote with a swagger resurfaces here as an elegant, elegiac meditation on the death of purpose

I was thoroughly amused, stimulated, entertained and instructed by the whole book . . . I don’t think I’ve read anything which has brought 18th-century London so powerfully to life . . . brilliantly acute

Exquisite . . . Miller’s elegant prose is laced with luxurious imagery and wry humour . . . beautifully and sensitively written

Miller is a pellucid, evocative writer: he brings alive the thick fogs over the Thames, the dreary winter countryside, the lamp-lit London streets . . . A beautiful evocation of a few months of this womaniser’s life

A perfectly crafted picture of 18-century London and its visiting predator in language as delicate as the tendrils of fog that curl off the Thames, and as forceful as the fetid odours conjured up in the background

Andrew Miller’s forte is painting verbal landscapes, laying the words just so. At times it’s like a fine miniature, delicate with atmosphere and smoke and gleam

Miller again shows his mastery of historical fiction in this fine, elegiac book

Miller’s elegiac meditation on life, love and mortality is deep, poignant and funny

Glittering . . . There are descriptive passages of extraordinary power and beauty

Miller is knowing, ironic, and playful in his new novel . . . The prose is flawless

Immensely readable . . . a well-crafted page-turner which certainly delivers

Miller is astonishingly assured in handling the novel’s lush complexities of time and place, of nationality, and of the intricate workings of Casanova’s troubled mind . . . His achievement here is to make of the legendary Casanova not some brightly colored historical oddity but, more subtly, a man

Worth reading for its evocation of 18th-century London alone. Silken boudoirs, pestilent hovels and pleasure gardens are all brought to magical life