Book Review: Sobowtór by Maciej Siembieda
Art, Deception, and a Legend That Refuses to Die ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (4/5)
This past weekend, I finally cracked open Sobowtór, the latest novel by Maciej Siembieda, and I found myself instantly pulled into a masterfully spun tale where historical truths are painted over with layers of fiction so seamlessly, it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.
Pan Maciej Siembieda, long celebrated as a true craftsman of historically rich thrillers, returns with another tour de force. Known for blending meticulous research with gripping storytelling, he gives readers Sobowtór—a novel that’s as intellectually stimulating as it is entertaining. Once again, he puts Jakub Kania, the ever-curious former IPN prosecutor turned insurance fraud expert, at the centre of an investigation that bridges centuries and crosses borders.
This is the seventh novel featuring Kania, and this time, the mystery begins in modern-day Warsaw, where a conservative political foundation is preparing to unveil a collection of newly “discovered” Renaissance portraits of none other than Martin Luther and John Calvin. The paintings, allegedly from the 16th century, are stunningly executed on ancient wooden panels. But something doesn’t sit right.
Enter the legend of “Gemello,” a shadowy figure whispered about in art circles—a Renaissance-level forger who seems to defy time, resurfacing every few decades to create masterful counterfeits that deceive even the best-trained eyes. These are no ordinary fakes; they’re artworks that bend history itself. As Kania begins to dig deeper, joined by the sharp-witted art critic Ludmiła Ungier, he uncovers a web of lies that stretches from pre-war Kraków to post-war Vienna and deep into the vaults of Europe’s most exclusive private collections.
What makes Sobowtór remarkable isn’t just its clever plot or the thrill of the chase—it’s the way Siembieda weaves historical insight into every thread. His writing, as always, is elegant and precise, gliding effortlessly across decades without losing pace. The dialogue is crisp, the tension high, and the details—especially those related to art history and political intrigue—utterly convincing. It’s fiction, yes, but grounded so solidly in fact that it reads like a secret history.
There are moments when the prose feels almost luxurious. Siembieda’s language doesn’t just describe—it seduces. His storytelling is immersive, rich with atmosphere, and filled with the kind of intellectual curiosity that makes you pause and look up historical references. You don’t just read his books; you experience them.
Sobowtór is, ultimately, a novel about truth—how it’s shaped, forged, and sometimes stolen. It’s about the stories we choose to believe and the ones we fabricate to serve power, profit, or myth. In an era obsessed with authenticity, this book feels especially timely.
If you’re a fan of historical thrillers that don’t underestimate your intelligence—and especially if you love art, secrets, and conspiracies that take generations to unravel—Sobowtór should be on your reading list. I devoured it with delight, and I’m already looking forward to what Kania uncovers next. But since I have not read all the previous books in the series, I am planning already to add them to my reading list!