The news in publishing couldn't be bleaker: massive layoffs at publishing houses, whole imprints disappearing from company mastheads as if David Copperfield had suddenly waved his cape and tripped a trapdoor somewhere. Last week, for example, the Collins part of HarperCollins simply ceased to exist.

And here's the biggest irony: As the book world crumbles, how best to escape? Bury your head in a book, of course.

The thought occurred to me while reading a new book about Casanova. It had its flaws, but believe me, when you're trying to banish bad news from your brain, few subjects are better than the famous 18th-century rake for sheer lose-yourself amusement.

Just consider one toss-away sentence in the book. Here, Casanova runs into two women in France - "one of whom," writes the author, "he had already slept with in Paris, the other of whom he engaged . . . in a three-way sex session featuring, exotically, her hunchbacked dresser."

And to think you doubted me.

I picked up Casanova: Actor, Lover, Priest, Spy, by British writer Ian Kelly as a lark. Valentine's Day was approaching and what could be more appropriate? Just out from Tarcher/Penguin, the book draws on Casanova's voluminous memoir about his life, Histoire de Ma Vie, only recently available in its entirety.

And what a life. Amazingly, the man who bedded more than 100 women originally planned to be a priest. He was a soldier, a faith-healer, a librarian, an author of 42 books, including a translation of Homer's Iliad and a five-volume science fiction novel. He founded a state lottery. And if none of that impresses you, consider: He practiced Kabbalah long before Madonna realized she was more than a mere material girl.

With all these achievements, notes Kelly, Casanova would be "bemused" to learn that he is known almost exclusively for his sex life. The author then proceeds to meticulously detail that sex life - and god bless him for that. Did you really want to read about Casanova stacking books in the library?

Giacomo Casanova was born in Venice on April 2, 1725, the offspring of an actress and uncertain paternity. He was a sickly child who grew into sexual awareness early and nurtured that instinct with a vengeance. His first intercourse experience, at age 17, is with two sisters who join him in a "slumber party."

From there, the story is filled with enough naked assignations to make Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee look like church deacons. In his lifetime, reports Kelly, Casanova had sex with women masquerading as castrated men, with actual men, other men's wives and even, possibly, his own daughter.

Here Kelly describes a typical chance encounter Casanova had with a young bride in a carriage, as related in his memoir: "He ruthlessly took advantage of her fear of lightning to persuade her on to his lap and under his cloak, and eventually carried off 'the most complete victory that ever a skilful (sic) swordsman won.' "

In one unforgettable passage, Casanova falls in love with a young virgin he soon deflowers and whose disapproving father ships her off to a convent on Murano. Nonetheless, he finds a way to secretly meet with her, is eventually seduced by another nun, and within a few pages, the three of them are cavorting, nun habits shed faster than a disapproving thought.

Kelly notes that Casanova was not classically handsome. But he was witty and charming and knew how to wheedle his way into a woman's heart. Casanova boasted - now drop the remote guys and listen up! - that he could "conquer any woman, if she was the sole object of his undivided attention."

He also believed that actual love was important for good sex - not that he set a high bar for that actual love. Kelly notes that after Casanova once mused to a friend that "love without love was worthless," the friend teased him "for having caught the clap, yet again, from fifteen minutes with a whore he had not even found attractive."

Touche.

Still, despite any hypocrisy (not to mention many, ahem, health obstacles), you have to admire the man's enthusiasm - not to mention the impressive feats he managed between hookups.

Casanova was the Zelig of his time. He seems to have met every important person on the horizon: Catherine the Great, Madame de Pompadour, Prussian king Frederick the Great, Voltaire, Pope Clement XIII . . . the list goes on.

His adventures are the stuff of legend: Arrested at one point by the Venetian Inquisition and thrown into prison, his daring escape is as thrilling as a Bond movie, complete with ropes made from bedsheets, a dicey moment hanging onto a roof 90 feet above ground and a nail-biting encounter with a night watchman.

So you can see why Kelly's book drew me in so completely. Admittedly, it isn't always a breezy read. The prose is cluttered with names, dates and itineraries. Kelly introduces themes to Casanova's life that he never fully examines. Often, it seems as if he couldn't resist throwing in every minute detail his research had turned up.

But what details! Part of the fun of a book like this is losing yourself in another time and place - in this case, a world where traveling from Rome to Naples took nearly a week. A world where high- society men and women scored on their wit, rather than their stock portfolios.

A world, dare I add, where the publishing industry - not to mention the global economy - wasn't in a death spiral the likes of which we've never before seen.

Which reminds me: Did I mention the time Casanova watched a couple engage in a sex act at the public execution of a man who had tried to kill King Louis XV? I can't believe I'm saying this, but forget the sex act. The important point here is to imagine the execution: The man's skin was "ripped off with heated pincers, molten lead was poured over him, he was castrated." And just for good measure, he was tied to four stallions aimed in different directions and ripped to shreds.

Note to publishing world: Things could always be worse.

thornp@RockyMountainNews.com