Mona's Eyes

Book of the year 2025? No, B&N. Just…no.

Mona’s Eyes centers on a grandfather’s attempt to teach his granddaughter how to see deeply while she still can.

I won’t lie—this book can be a split experience. The narrative is intentionally spare, prioritizing reflection over momentum. For readers who love art, it may feel like comfort; for readers who love novels, frustration.

Early on, the story felt noticeably thin to me, and Mona’s precociousness paired with the book’s gentle, almost overly curated tone made parts of it feel a bit twee. I rolled my eyes more than once.

But somewhere along the way, my resistance softened.

What the book lacks in narrative drive, it makes up for in breadth and curiosity. I began to appreciate the wide-angle view of art history, the way artists and movements are placed in conversation, and especially the attention paid to why people make art and what they’re reaching toward when they do.

Once I stopped asking the book to be something it wasn’t, I found myself settling into it.

I’m left with mixed feelings. At times, Mona’s Eyes reads like an Art History 101 course in disguise. But it’s also a gentle celebration of beauty, creativity, and looking closely.

Mona’s Eyes may not satisfy if you’re craving a robust story, but if you’re willing to wander slowly through art and ideas, it offers quiet rewards.