I’m regularly late to the literary party. When it comes to Mathias Enard, I haven’t read Zone, Street of Thieves or Compass (the latter shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize in 2017). This is despite Enard being highly regarded by those in the know. To rectify this I decided to pick up Enard’s short novel Tell Them Of Battles, Kings and Elephants (the title borrowed from Kipling), translated by Charlotte Mandell and published late last year by the always terrific Fitzcarraldo Editions.

Back in 1506, the Sultan of Constantinople invites Michelangelo Buonarroti (you might know him from such sculptures as David and such frescos as “The Creation of Adam”) to visit the city and design a bridge that will span across the Golden Horn. History tells us that Michelangelo did not make the journey. Mathias Enard, aware of the counterfactual power of fiction, says hold my beer. The tipping point for Michelangelo – according to Enard – is the Pope’s refusal to reimburse the sculptor for the marble purchased to build the papal tomb. The lure of 50,000 ducats doesn’t hurt either.

There’s so much to love about this novella. I giggled at Michelangelo’s bitchy attitude toward his compatriots – he has little time for Da Vinci who lacks the soul of a sculptor and he detests Bramante (“the architect is an imbecile”) and Raphael (“the painter a pretentious ass”). As for the man himself, Michelangelo’s tantrums are massive, his ego blazes like the sun, his money issues are a pressing burden, and yet he’s clearly a genius, his creative process – part fury, part inspiration – a highlight of the book.

When he arrives in Turkey, his observation of the place, especially in contrast with Rome, suggests a level of hedonism and liberty he’s not accustomed to. This change of scenery allows Enard to deftly explore Michelangelo’s sexuality*. His friendship with the Turkish poet Mesihi (fond of his drink and drugs) is one of unrequited love for the poet. Michelangelo instead falls head over heels with a dancer whose lithe body means he initially isn’t sure whether they are a “he” or “she”. There’s an awkwardness to Michelangelo’s approach to sex which is strangely touching but also in keeping with the Michelangelo of history who apparently lived the life of a monk.

And we can’t forget the monkey? I LOVED THE MONKEY!

Tell Them Of Battles, Kings and Elephants is a terrific novel, story-telling at its purest.

*I wasn’t aware of this but an embarrassed member of the family changed the pronouns in Michelangelo’s homoerotic poetry when the poems were published in 1623.