In mid-19th century Paris, the common people were caught between revolutions, artists fuelled their inspiration with opium, and poet Charles Baudelaire found inspiration and frustration in the arms of Haitian cabaret singer Jeanne Duval. In BLACK VENUS, author James MacManus effectively shapes their 20-year relationship against the backdrop of an evolving city.

MacManus vividly describes the disparate aspects of Paris, painting detailed verbal pictures that take us from dirty alleys and seedy hotels to the finest restaurants and apartments. The language, especially the dialogue, evokes the 1800s, sounding in my head like a translation of a foreign historical novel. I found it a little more difficult to read than a more modern-sounding tome, but it's all true to the period.

Baudelaire is a struggling poet and translator during most of the book. He faces criticism, obscenity charges, and poverty, along with addictions to drugs and Duval. She is a cabaret singer and opium dealer when they meet; she seems to introduce him to the drug and throughout his life he turns to her as much for a fix as for emotional or physical comfort.

At times, this novel-inspired-by-fact seems like a collection of vignettes from these two troubled lives. MacManus rarely dates the scenes, so it's difficult to tell what year the story started and whether back-to-back scenes are days, months or even years apart. For me, that made it harder to follow the story. Even the most thrilling moments of his life -- a stand on the barricades and his obscenity trial -- are plodding, as Baudelaire whines and dopes his way through his life.

BLACK VENUS is not for everyone. It has frank, but not graphic, descriptions of Baudelaire's unusual sexual tendencies. Readers who want to know more about the poet and his work or French history will find it interesting.