There are a variety of circumstances that make this book a paradox. First, the subject matter is fascinating: Silent movie director FW Murnau's life and career. Unfortunately, because the family is ashamed of its gay ancestor, a lot of material was withheld from the author, who has to fictionalize this sort-of biography. Shifts from third- to first-person narrative would be less jarring if there was not a sudden change in quality (first person sounding much more authentic). Another problem is that the author takes a glib view of film history itself, writing this book to satisfy his childhood obsession with the horror movie Nosferatu by writing about its creator. But to only mention three of his movies, leaving off his most stunning achievements--Faust and Sunrise--is astounding. But, despite all this, Shepard paints an interesting picture of Murnau as an obsessed loner whose only joy was the lost boyfriend, Hans, and the subsequent obsession with his death (in WWI trenches) and memory. As a film history buff, it's hard not to feel the clang of what's missing here. As a look at the mournful obsession for youth and dream lost, though, it sort of work, marred again by the narrative alternation.