In painting, pentimenti are the traces of earlier images: what the artist painted over but could not fully erase.
Philian Kasik was a gifted painter before he became a business analyst, a suburban husband, a dutiful father. Every morning he drafts a resignation letter. Every morning he deletes it. The studio beside his bedroom remains shut.
When an unwanted promotion locks him deeper into a life he never chose, Philian returns to painting in secret, fueled by alcohol and a recurring nightmare he cannot shake. His marriage to Judith â herself shaped by a rebellious past â grows brittle, while their teenage daughter withdraws into troubling secrecy.
As the pressure mounts, a portrait intended as a gift becomes an act of exposure, forcing a reckoning with the damage creative truth can inflict â and with a childhood loss Philian has spent a lifetime avoiding. The divide between the persona he has maintained and the self emerging on the canvas widens into a crisis that threatens his family, his moral standing, and his sense of control.
A novel exploring creativity, masculinity, and the compromises of adulthood. Pentimenti is a LoveReading Indie Books We Love selection.
In painting, pentimenti are the traces of earlier images: what the artist painted over but could not fully erase.
Philian Kasik was a gifted painter before he became a business analyst, a suburban husband, a dutiful father. Every morning he drafts a resignation letter. Every morning he deletes it. The studio beside his bedroom remains shut.
When an unwanted promotion locks him deeper into a life he never chose, Philian returns to painting in secret, fueled by alcohol and a recurring nightmare he cannot shake. His marriage to Judith â herself shaped by a rebellious past â grows brittle, while their teenage daughter withdraws into troubling secrecy.
As the pressure mounts, a portrait intended as a gift becomes an act of exposure, forcing a reckoning with the damage creative truth can inflict â and with a childhood loss Philian has spent a lifetime avoiding. The divide between the persona he has maintained and the self emerging on the canvas widens into a crisis that threatens his family, his moral standing, and his sense of control.
A novel exploring creativity, masculinity, and the compromises of adulthood. Pentimenti is a LoveReading Indie Books We Love selection.
Philian Kasik stepped into his office. Outside, the sun burned the sky a molten vermilion, reminiscent of a volcanic eruption. Its rays seared through the window, casting a fiery glow on one wall while the rest of the room lay in shadow. That early in the morning, the office was peaceful. The only sound was the faint hiss of the CPU cooler.
Philian ignored the light switch as he crossed the room in long strides, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness. He draped his navy blazer neatly over the back of his chair before sitting down. As his desktop loaded, he folded his sleeves back to the crease of his elbow, then clicked on the saved Word document dated the previous day.
âDear Ms Onnertz,â
Apart from the greeting, the document was blank. His capable hands hovered over the keyboard as if he needed to gather his thoughts. He typed: I hereby terminate my employment with the Belmont Group as a Business Analyst.
Philian took his time, savouring each word as he always did, striking the keys with particular emphasis on terminate. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze turning dreamy. For a while, he simply sat there, then reached for the keyboard and deleted every word except the greeting. He saved the file under todayâs date and closed it. By the time he opened his work email, heâd already banished every emotion from his face.
Since he had left yesterday evening, new messages had flooded his inbox. Among delayed replies and industry newsletters, he found a meeting invitation. It was set for that afternoon with the direct subject line: FOLLOW-UP. He stared at his bossâs name, his cursor hovering over the invitation. Apart from monthly updates during their team meetings, they rarely engaged with each other. His hand lingered on the mouse, the cursor drifting toward the just-closed document. He jerked it over and clicked Accept.
Overcome by a sudden need to move, he checked the digital clock on the taskbar. Most of his colleagues wouldnât arrive for another half hour, so he had the coffee machine to himself. Philian reached for his mug, emblazoned with ROCKSTAR, SUPERHERO, DAD, perched on a shelf near his desk. Above the engraving on the mug was a photo of a blonde, curly-haired girl with a shy smile.
He left his office and walked down the long corridor, passing dark rooms that branched off to either side. Before the glass door to the stairwell, he turned right and entered the communal area. The room was a windowless cubbyhole with coffee and snack machines lined up against the back wall. They hummed in electric monotony. He pressed the button for the Café Crema, and the machine rattled and clattered as it filled his mug drop by drop.
To his surprise, he heard female voices in the corridor. They seemed to have stopped nearby but were too quiet for him to match faces to their voices. One woman sounded agitated, her pitch fluctuating with emotion.
Once his coffee was ready, he turned to leave the room when snatches of conversation reached him, causing him to pause and listen. Murmurs, rustling â the agitated woman again.
âThis canât be good. Susanne has never scheduled a one-on-one with me before.â
The second woman replied something unintelligible in a soothing tone.
âBut youâve heard the rumours. You know how she is ââ
The voices faded along with the muffled sound of their retreating footsteps on the carpet.
When he left the room, he was alone again, but the undercurrent of panic in their voices polluted the empty hallway. This wasnât the first conversation of that kind heâd overheard. For weeks, rumours of budget cuts and branch closures had flooded the office corridors. Fear of an impending wave of redundancies had spread among the employees.
Despite this, his measured steps back to his office were unhurried, almost leisurely. His situation was so very different from theirs. The financial pressure of losing a job was painful, of course â but fear? He took a slow sip of his coffee, savouring the bitter taste. It was hard to describe. Words had never been his preferred medium of expression, but when he thought about the upcoming meeting later that day, the closest thing he could liken it to was anticipation.
In the early afternoon, Philian wandered down the hall until he was greeted by the hollow clatter of a keyboard from Susanneâs open office door. She sat at her desk, staring hypnotically at the wall of monitors that half-obscured her from view.
Daylight pulsed through the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the beige sofa and matching armchairs opposite her desk. Beside them stood a bleached-wood shelf, lined with souvenirs from her travels, each displayed like a museum exhibit. Atop the highest shelf crouched an especially ugly lion sculpture. In a confident display of superiority, it bared its fangs in an eternal roar, insistent on its natural supremacy over all lesser creatures. It suited her, he thought, before he knocked gently on the doorframe.
Susanne looked up and waved him in. âHello, Phil. Please, have a seat.â
He settled onto the sofa, careful not to kick his long legs against the coffee table, as she took the armchair opposite him.
Susanne Onnertz was the perfect fit for her job â smart, driven, professional â with an impressive career already under her belt in her early thirties. Normally, her appearance was as polished as her CV. A stark contrast to the crumpled blouse she wore today. Blue shadows bulged under her eyes, barely concealed by make-up, and a chunk of her red hair had escaped her ponytail.
Her exhaustion heightened his anticipation, the hushed conversation heâd overheard that morning in the corridor drifting to the front of his mind.
âIâll get straight to the point,â she said, her voice hoarse as if she hadnât slept. âManagement has approved a comprehensive internal restructuring. You know our numbers. Last year was a disaster.â
Bitterness tinged her tone, as if sheâd been personally blamed for the financial results.
âAs part of the necessary productivity increases, personnel changes are unavoidable.â She exhaled sharply. âUnfortunately, Iâll have to let some colleagues go.â
Philian had no doubt sheâd sweep through the department like a whirlwind, taking any loose cogs in the machinery with her. Susanne could be ruthless in pursuit of her goals.
âYou know how much I value you. Your work is excellent. But I donât see how the team, as it stands, can meet this yearâs targets.â
Philian tried to look concerned. âWhat does this mean for me?â
âLetâs be honest.â She hesitated just long enough to make his pulse quicken. âWe both know youâre overqualified for your current position. Someone with your skills should be in a different role.â
âI see.â This wasnât what he had expected. If anything, heâd thought sheâd let him go with some corporate platitudes about restructuring and efficiency. He hadnât imagined sheâd try to soften the blow.
âIt wasnât easy,â she said and kept talking, but her voice faded into the background as his ears stopped listening.
He reminded himself to show an appropriate level of anger, or at least indignation. After all, heâd been in this role for six years, with consistently stellar reviews, and had a young family to support.
And yet.
All he could think about was his morning ritual, which had kept him going through years of sacrifices, now suddenly so close to reality. His fingers trembled with excitement; he clasped his hands together to keep them still.
ââ with Management, and after some back and forth, theyâve approved.â Susanneâs voice cut back through his thoughts. âCongratulations!â
Philian blinked. Did she just congratulate him? On being sacked?
Susanne beamed at him, her face lighting up like his daughter Tessaâs when she tore open her Christmas presents.
âI can tell this is a surprise,â she said warmly, âbut no one deserves this promotion more than you.â
Promotion. The word was so wrong, it took him three deep swallows until he could speak again. âWait, I â what?â was all he managed to say.
Her lips curled into a conspiratorial smile, so out of place on her face that he almost recoiled. âI think youâll be great as my team lead.â
A dull throbbing began in his temple. This wasnât happening. This wasnât how it was supposed to go.
âI donât know what to say; I mean, Iâm obviouslyâŠâ his words trailed off. âIâm happy in my current role.â
âNo false modesty, please.â
His hands clenched together, the edge of his wedding ring cutting into his finger. âI wouldnât want to change ââ
âI need a deputy,â she snapped, cutting him off. She cleared her throat, running a hand over her skirt. When she continued, she sounded as cool and composed as ever. âI canât lead this team on my own. And all the necessary steps have already been set in motion. Everyoneâs been informed. The only thing left is for you to accept.â
Philian sat frozen, his thoughts racing. She had already pushed too far. If he refused, she would look bad in front of Management after seemingly going out on a limb for him. And while he couldnât care less about her reputation, one thing was crystal clear. If he thwarted her plans, she was powerful and resentful enough to make his life miserable.
A heavy silence settled between them.
âI understand if you feel blindsided. But the job is perfect for you,â Susanne said, her smile reassuring.
People like her never understood there was more to life than slaving away at a mediocre job in a mediocre company. He was already working late most nights, barely home before seven. And this promotion? Heâd be tethered to this office, working closely with Susanne â someone who lived for her job. There would be no time left for himself.
The fantasies heâd just indulged in â about walking away, about finally being free â were shattered in one swift stroke. His gaze drifted aimlessly around the room, landing on the lion sculpture.
An intense urge overtook him â a violent, almost primal need to seize the thing and smash it into a thousand pieces. The force of it startled him. He flinched, shaken by his thoughts.
âPhilian?â Susanne reached out as if to touch his arm but hesitated, withdrew.
He exhaled slowly. âSorry. Iâm just,â he flexed his fingers to release the cramps in his hands and forced a smile. âSurprised.â
The worry lines on her forehead smoothed out, but the confusion in her eyes remained. âThink it over. Iâll send you an email with all the details. Youâll see; the new position has many advantages. Financial ones, too.â
Philian rubbed his thighs, then stood. âYouâll have my answer tomorrow.â His legs were wobbly as he walked to the door. He felt weak, physically and emotionally, having been caught so completely off guard. He detested it.
Just before he turned into the corridor, he glanced back at Susanne. She was still sitting in the chair, her eyes transfixed on the fading imprint he had left on the sofa.
***
A toxic mix of coffee, chicken Tikka Masala, and cedarwood-laden eau de toilette choked the cramped office Philian shared with Frederik Gebels.
âAlright, mate?â mumbled Frederik between two massive forkfuls as Philian passed his desk. A drop of red-brown sauce dripped from his goatee onto his shirt. âBugger!â He grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the stain, pressing it deeper into the fabric.
âYou ever seen that method work?â Philian asked, pointing at the smear before he walked to the window to open it. The stench was intensifying his headache.
He slumped behind his desk, opposite his colleague, and watched the man devour his Indian takeaway.
âMeeting with Susanne? Whatâs up; trouble in paradise?â Frederik grunted before he shoved the last piece of chicken into his mouth.
Philian squinted at Frederikâs chubby face, then wordlessly unlocked his computer screen.
âCome on, spill.â Frederik tossed the empty foil container behind him into the bin, burped, and propped his elbows on his armrests. âYouâre not the only one moping around today. You know Linda from Project Management?â He made an obscene gesture, evidently praising Lindaâs ample assets. As he continued, his voice quickened with eager gossip. âShe passed me in the corridor today, looking like sheâd been crying her eyes out. I was about to tell her to freshen up, but then Susanne appeared and ââ
âAre you still working on the performance report for Friday?â Philian interrupted, rummaging through his drawer for a painkiller. He had grown used to Frederikâs idea of collegial banter, which was mostly crude, always biting. But after this meeting, he wasnât in the mood for more nonsense.
âAlready finished.â Frederik lifted a folder in mock salute.
Philian found the guy to be loud, arrogant, and boorish. He was, however, an excellent business analyst and indispensable to the company. Being the only person Frederik somewhat respected was a dubious honour and the reason Susanne had asked him to share the office. A rare thing, her asking instead of ordering. Not that he wouldâve had a choice either way.
âWhat happened?â Frederik pressed on with his interrogation. He tugged at his goatee and pursed his lips like a stereotypical detective from a B-grade film. âNever mind, donât tell me. Iâll ask Susanne later.â
Philian pulled a crumpled, half-empty blister pack from the back of the drawer and popped a white tablet into his mouth. He swallowed it dry. âYou have a meeting with her today?â
âYup. Jealous?â His colleague winked playfully. Since the last summer party, after which Susanne and Philian had coincidentally left at the same time, ridiculous rumours had been circulating about them. Philian suspected that Frederik didnât believe a word of it, but that didnât stop him from teasing.
Philian ignored the provocation and opened the statistics programme. Susanne needed some analyses for the next board meeting, but he doubted heâd manage them today. The impending decision made his brain cramp.
âHey Phil.â Frederikâs tone was suddenly serious. âDo you think Iâm in trouble?â
Philian scrutinised him, trying not to show his surprise at the uncharacteristic display of genuine emotion. Apparently, they both wore masks, but what his colleague was hiding would likely remain a mystery.
âNo, I donât think so,â he finally said, meaning it. He sighed theatrically. âPity, though. If she sacked your fat arse, it might turn out to be a good day after all.â
Frederikâs astonished expression gave way to a deep, throaty laugh. âA joke? I didnât know you had it in you!â There was a glimmer of respect in his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, Philian basked in their shared sense of camaraderie before returning to work.
Thereâs something about the way Larissa Hahn's debut novel 'Pentimenti: What We Paint Over' opens, into a life that looks perfectly ordered from the outset but feels fundamentally off, that is almost disconcertingly apt in its relevance.
Philian Kasik, the protagonist with his tidy suburban routine and carefully measured successes, has all the makings of colloquial stability. But the opening sequence of him drafting and erasing his resignation letter, which he has drafted and erased an umpteen number of times before, sets the tone for the book. Trapped in a draining job and a version of himself he cannot reconcile with his past as a gifted artist, his professional and creative frustrations seep into everything around him, straining his marriage with Judith and his relationship with his daughter Tessa. What makes this spiral especially compelling is how often Philian frames himself as the wronged party, building a convenient narrative where he is often overlooked and underestimated.
Hahnâs choice of a close third-person perspective sharpens this particular bias exercised by the protagonist. We are inside Philianâs head, but not fully aligned with it. His insecurites and emotional projections are evident and his self-pity grows increasingly transparent with every chapter. The characters around himâ whether it's Judith, equally overworked and often withdrawn, or Susanne, whose workplace behavior blurs into toxicityâare admittedly flawed in their own right, but filtered through Philianâs lens, they often become inevitable extensions of his grievances. And while this is juxtaposed with the sense that the narrative feels quick to center blame on him while letting others off relatively easily, this imbalance works precisely because it reflects his point of view. The absence of consequences for others' failings feels louder to him, making his frustration come off as both understandable and incredibly skewed.
And throughout this, Hahn sustains a tense atmosphere with a contemplative writing style that bolsters the way she expands on the various character arcs threaded across the book. "It was remarkable", she writes, "how life could trickle along like a drought-ravaged stream for years, then suddenly overflow and sweep everything away in a flood.â And this very feeling of impending doom lingers in even the most mundane scenes, eventually building towards relationship conflicts and messy altercations.
Philian encompasses the human trait of living in contradictions more often than one would like. He is more engaged with the idea of meaning and purpose than the reality of life, and this irony peaks during the first time he tries to teach Tessa the basics of art in the bid to help her find an outlet for self-expression: âPortraiture isnât about capturing everything you seeâŠ" he tells his daughter, "Sometimes leaving something out can reveal even more.â This remark in the face of him having spent years seeing without truly perceiving, especially those closest to him, lands precisely because of its blantant hyposcrisy. It's an uncomfortable mirror to face for Philian as well as the reader.
Ultimately, Pentimenti is as enjoyable as it is volatile. Deeply unsettling in its familiarity, it captures the small selfishnesses and the quiet distortions we live by under the guise of convenience, while suggesting that this innate conflicting sense of identity isn't something to separate into rigid walls but to assemble and merge as fragments into a fuller mosaic. And while I'm hard-pressed to believe that most of us might be fortunate enough to have friends like Frederik in our lives to tell it as it is, especially when we are the problem, I think the book is a necessary read to propel introspection and all the conversations we tend to avoid.