“A gentle stroll along the canal at night is what this kit gives you.”
Built and reviewed by John A. MacInnes – build number 72. September 2026
Shortened Review:
If you can’t be bothered reading the full review, here’s the short version: Midnight In Venezia is bloody good.
In fact, after 71 builds, it has earned itself a place in my top five. And that’s not something I say lightly.
Anavrin has produced a beautifully detailed Venetian scene which manages to capture a surprising amount of the character of Venice in a relatively small space. The architecture is particularly impressive, with balconies, windows, shopfronts, signs, greenery, waterways and all the little details that make you stop building occasionally and have another look at what you’ve just created. Having visited Venice several times myself, I think they’ve done a cracking job of capturing the feel of the place.
It is also exceptionally well engineered.
The 439-piece kit uses 2.5mm MDF and the laser cutting is excellent. Pieces fit together extremely well, with very little sanding required, and many of the joints lock together so securely that surprisingly little glue is needed. There were times when the whole thing was going together with such little drama that I started to become suspicious.
This isn’t one of those builds where you’re constantly wondering whether you’ve somehow managed to put the entire thing together backwards. The construction is logical, the stages are generally well laid out and the 60-page, full-colour instruction manual does a very good job of guiding you through the build.
The lighting is another strong point. There is a mixture of LED beads, micro LEDs and LED strips, along with a touch sensor and USB-C power option. The wiring is clearly identified and colour coded, which is always welcome when you’re faced with enough wires to make the average builder consider taking up knitting instead.
I did make one lighting modification. At step 143, the supplied single LED wasn’t illuminating both windows particularly well, leaving the upper window looking as though somebody had forgotten to pay the electricity bill. I replaced it with a 19mm warm-white hard-filament LED and the difference was considerable.
There are a few other oddities along the way. Some of the design decisions had me scratching my head, including the mysterious rooftop trunk which appears to have been placed there by someone who simply had a suitcase left over and couldn’t find anywhere else to put it.
Then there’s E6, which has a printed side that ends up hidden once installed. It’s harmless, but why print something and then immediately turn it face down and hide it forever? It’s rather like wallpapering a room and then putting a wardrobe in front of the only wall you’ve decorated.
The storm shutter covering one of the double windows also seems a little strange, and there are a few areas where the acrylic has some slight clouding around the laser-cut points. The G24 window-sill pieces deserve particular attention because getting them properly seated is important for the later construction.
But these are relatively minor complaints.
The one criticism I keep coming back to is much more fundamental: the model is too narrow.
Anavrin has packed an enormous amount of architectural detail into this design, but the standard book-nook footprint simply doesn’t give that detail enough room to breathe. Some of the buildings become partially hidden once everything is assembled, including a particularly nicely detailed building fitted around step 295 which ends up tucked away behind another structure.
And that is such a shame.
Because this is a design that really deserves to be a diorama rather than a conventional book nook. Give it a wider footprint, allow the buildings some breathing space and let the builder actually see more of what Anavrin has created, and this could be something seriously special.
There is also plenty of scope for customisation, which, naturally, was never going to escape my attention. I added a couple of my own touches, including replacing the yellow church cross with a metallic gold finish and colouring the two carved decorative pieces on the front facade with a metallic gold marker. Small changes, but they suit the gold detailing of the finished model beautifully.
And then we come to the price.
At £104.99 normally, or £89.99 at the price available when I reviewed it, this is firmly in premium-kit territory. That’s a lot of money for a book nook, and at that price I expect something rather special.
Fortunately, I think Anavrin has largely delivered.
You get excellent MDF, superb engineering, a very good instruction manual, a substantial lighting system, acrylic components, printed accessories, decorative materials and a finished scene that genuinely looks and feels like Venice.
So, would I recommend it?
Yes.
Despite the few quirks, Midnight In Venezia has been an absolute pleasure to build. It looks fantastic, the engineering is excellent, the detail is impressive and it has enough character to make you stop and admire it rather than simply stick it on a shelf and forget about it.
My only real plea to Anavrin is this:
Please, please, please make the next version bigger.
Stop thinking book nook and start thinking diorama.
Because you’ve already done the hard bit. You’ve created a beautiful miniature Venice.
Now give it the space it deserves.
Full Review Introduction:
Well, here we go again with another book nook review, and this time we’re heading somewhere rather more exotic than the average village high street. Forget the local pub, the corner shop or the cosy little bookshop — this time we’re off to Venice, and we’re doing it after dark.
This one is called Midnight In Venezia, and it comes from Anavrin, a company that has established itself firmly towards the more premium end of the book nook market. And when I say premium, I’m not simply talking about the quality of the box it arrives in. Anavrin kits generally come with a price tag that makes you sit up and take notice, which inevitably means expectations are a little higher before you’ve even opened the box.
When you’re paying more for a kit, you quite reasonably expect more in return. Better materials, cleverer design, good engineering, decent instructions, impressive lighting and, ultimately, a finished scene that makes you look at it and think, “Yes, I can see where the money went.”
A nice picture on the box isn’t quite enough.
And this one certainly has plenty to live up to.
I’ve visited Venice on more than one occasion, so I’m probably going to be looking at this one with a slightly more critical eye than I might with a fictional street scene. Get it right and you’ve got one hell of a miniature setting. Get it wrong and, well, I’ve actually been there.
Then there’s the small matter of my customisation nose.
It doesn’t take much to set that off, and Venice is hardly short of opportunities for a bit of tinkering, painting and generally sticking my nose where perhaps the designers didn’t intend it to go.
But before I reach for the glue, paint or anything else that’s within arm’s reach, there’s a rather important question to answer.
Is Midnight In Venezia actually worth the premium price?
That’s what we’re going to find out.
Midnight In Venezia – Inspiration:
Ever wondered what goes through a designers mind when formulating a new design? Well here’s an insight for you.
Hidden within the quiet waterways of Venice lies a narrow canal softly illuminated by midnight lanterns, glowing windows, and the gentle reflection of moonlight across the water. Between aged stone façades, arched balconies, striped awnings, climbing vines, and flower-filled windows, the city feels almost dreamlike, as though time has slowed beneath the stillness of the night.
The inspiration for Midnight In Venezia came from the romantic mystery of Venice after dark, when the daytime crowds fade and the city begins to reveal a quieter, more poetic side of itself. Along the canal, gondolas drift beneath old bridges, warm light spills from hidden trattorias, and delicate Venetian masks sit behind shop windows, quietly preserving the artistry and traditions that have shaped the city for centuries.
With this design, we wanted to recreate the feeling of entering Venice at midnight, where every narrow passageway feels like a secret and every glowing window hints at a story unfolding behind it. Beneath the balconies, the canal carries a soft turquoise glow, reflecting the lanterns, windows, and quiet movement of the city above. From the gondolier drifting through the narrow waterway, to the ornate street lamp, weathered balconies, hanging signboards, flower boxes, and layered rooftops above, each detail was designed to capture the atmosphere of a city built on water, beauty, and timeless craftsmanship.
The scene is intentionally composed to feel immersive from every angle. Look through the front arch and you are drawn into the canal below. Look from above and the rooftops, balconies, and winding waterway reveal the depth of the city. Look closer and you will find small moments hidden throughout, from the mask atelier and cozy trattoria to the softly lit hotel sign suspended above the street.
Midnight In Venezia is our tribute to the quiet magic of Venice at night, a miniature world filled with romance, mystery, and old-world charm. It is a scene for those who love places that feel cinematic, nostalgic, and deeply atmospheric, where every tiny detail invites you to pause, look closer, and imagine yourself drifting slowly through the city beneath the midnight sky.
The Price:
Midnight In Venezia isn’t a budget book nook. Anavrin currently lists the kit at a regular UK price of £104.99, although at the time of writing it is being offered at £89.99 as part of a 14 per cent reduction.
Once you get much beyond the £100 mark for a book nook, I think it’s reasonable to expect something rather special in return. There are plenty of perfectly respectable kits available for considerably less, so Anavrin is putting itself firmly into the premium bracket here.
That doesn’t automatically make it expensive for what you get — the build itself will have to determine that — but it certainly means I’ll be keeping a close eye on where that extra money has gone.
I’m not going to decide whether it’s worth the money by staring at the box and admiring the artwork. I’m going to build it, examine the engineering, see how the components perform, test the lighting and, knowing me, probably change something along the way.
Then we’ll see whether Anavrin has managed to convince me that the price tag is justified.
The Kit:
Midnight In Venezia contains 439 pieces and is classed by Anavrin as an intermediate-level build, with an estimated construction time of six to eight hours. Once completed, it measures approximately 9.1 inches high, 4.8 inches wide and 7.8 inches long, so we’re not talking about a huge model despite the fairly substantial price tag.
Anavrin rates Midnight In Venezia at four stars for difficulty and recommends it for builders aged 15 and over. That puts it firmly into the intermediate category, although the four-star rating suggests this isn’t intended to be a kit for someone picking up their first pair of tweezers and wondering why the PVA glue won’t stick their fingers together.
The 15+ age recommendation also seems to reflect the level of detail and the more involved nature of the build. Whether the four-star difficulty rating feels justified is something I’ll reserve judgement on until I’ve actually built the thing — because there is a considerable difference between a manufacturer putting four stars on a box and a builder discovering why those four stars are there at eleven o’clock at night with a tiny piece stuck to his finger.
There is, however, quite a lot packed into that relatively compact footprint. The wooden components are supplied pre-cut and coloured, while the kit includes the lighting components, tools, tweezers and the other materials required to complete the build. A front acrylic dust cover is also included, which is a useful addition for anyone planning to put the finished model on display.
The lighting is another significant part of the package, with 12 LEDs incorporated into the finished scene. Anavrin provides the option of powering the lighting from three AA batteries or via USB-C, giving you a little more flexibility when it comes to where the finished model eventually ends up.
So, on paper, there is certainly plenty here. But specifications only tell you what you’re supposed to be getting. They don’t tell you whether the components are well cut, whether everything fits as it should, whether the instructions are any good or whether those 439 pieces will eventually have me questioning my life choices.
For that, we’re going to have to get the box open.
What’s In The Box?:
And this is where things start to get interesting, because once everything is laid out on the workbench, there is no denying Anavrin has packed an awful lot into this box.
We have 14 full-size 2.5mm MDF boards containing the main structural and decorative pieces, along with the instruction manual. Then comes the electronics, and there is considerably more here than simply a couple of LEDs and a battery box.
The lighting kit includes LED bead heads, copper-wire micro LEDs and LED strips, together with a touch sensor, battery box and USB-C cable. There are also stickers specifically provided for tidying and identifying the lighting cables, which suggests that someone at Anavrin has actually thought about what happens when all those wires eventually meet on the workbench.
Then we get into the decorative extras, and the list gets rather extensive.
There are two pieces of clear acrylic to provide the dust covers, a selection of stickers and cloth accessories, plus a full-colour printed PVC sheet containing accessories, signs and various other details for the scene. We also get self-adhesive greenery, flowers and vines, along with an acrylic-printed section for the waterway.
And it doesn’t stop there. There are wooden carved decorative pieces, a one-way mirror, wooden dowels, a sign with a rather nice mirrored metallic finish, some hemp rope and, for those smaller jobs where fingers suddenly become about six sizes too large, a pair of tweezers and a mini screwdriver.
When you actually look at everything laid out together, it’s quite an impressive inventory.
And that does at least give us a much better idea of what we’re dealing with. There is a considerable amount of material, decorative detail and specialist components here, rather than simply a pile of MDF and a bag of LEDs.
Of course, having a long list of components doesn’t automatically make a premium kit good value. Everything still has to be of the right quality, fit properly and, crucially, contribute something worthwhile to the finished model.
But at least the box has given me plenty to work with.
The Instruction Manual:
Before reaching for the glue, I did what I always do with a new kit — I sat down with the instructions and had a proper look through them first. And, as usual, that was enough for the customisation department in my head to start holding an emergency meeting.
This is an A4, full-colour manual running to a rather substantial 60 pages. In fact, calling it a manual almost feels like underselling it. It’s more of a little book, and given the amount of information packed into it, I’m certainly not complaining.
I always have a good read through the instructions before I start a build. Partly because I like to know what I’m letting myself in for, partly because I want to spot any potential problems before I encounter them halfway through the build, and partly because I like to scope out the lighting installation.
And on that front, Anavrin gets full marks from me straight away.
The wiring is colour coded, making the different cables considerably easier to identify and follow. It might sound like a small thing, but anyone who has ever sat looking at a collection of almost identical little wires wondering which one is supposed to go where will appreciate just how useful this is.
The manual also starts sensibly, with a packing list and a pictorial guide to the accessories supplied. There are colour copies showing the MDF boards, making it much easier to identify the correct board and locate the parts required for each stage. There is also an icon guide explaining the various symbols used throughout the instructions, along with troubleshooting advice and a dedicated page covering what Anavrin calls “essential information”.
Then we get to page one — and we’re building.
The instructions are laid out clearly, with each stage easy to identify and the relevant pieces clearly illustrated. The print quality is excellent, the colour reproduction is sharp and, importantly, the parts shown in each stage are easy to distinguish from one another.
There is nothing particularly clever about making an instruction manual easy to follow, but it is astonishing how many manufacturers manage to make something so straightforward unnecessarily complicated. Anavrin appears to have taken the opposite approach here: give the builder plenty of information, show them exactly what they need and then let them get on with it.
I’ve obviously not built far enough yet to say whether the manual will remain this impressive once we get into the more complicated stages, particularly the lighting installation. But after a thorough read-through, I’m going into this build feeling considerably more confident than I often do at this point.
So far, so good.
In fact, between the comprehensive manual, the clearly identified parts and that nicely colour-coded wiring, things are looking rather promising.
Which means, naturally, that something will probably go horribly wrong shortly.
The Components:
Right, enough talking about what Anavrin says is in the box — let’s have a proper look at what is actually sitting on the workbench.
Starting with the MDF boards, and the first impressions are very good indeed. We’re dealing with 2.5mm MDF, and the laser cutting is clean, sharp and nicely defined. There is very little of the usual burnt-edge mess, and thankfully the boards aren’t covered in a layer of MDF dust thick enough to suggest they’ve been dragged behind a bus.
More importantly, the pieces are releasing from the boards extremely well.
Two sections on one of the boards simply dropped out when I lifted the sheet. I hadn’t even started removing them. They had already resigned.
That’s always a good sign.
Most of the pieces I’ve checked so far are coming away cleanly, with little or no need to sand the attachment points afterwards. There are a few of the really tiny pieces where I’ll be using a craft knife to make sure they come away safely rather than risk damaging them, but that’s hardly unusual with this sort of kit.
What I haven’t found is arguably more important. No obvious splintering, chipped sections, damaged pieces or areas where the printed finish has lifted during removal.
Then we get to the printed sections, and these are equally impressive on first inspection.
The board markings are clear, properly printed and very easy to identify, which makes finding the right sheet considerably less of a treasure hunt. It sounds like a minor thing, but when you’ve got 14 boards sitting on the workbench and you’re looking for one particular part, being able to actually read the things is surprisingly helpful. In my case I resigned myself some time ago to purchase a 12 sheet open chest to store my individual boards and what a difference it made.
The colours are sharp and well defined, the detail is crisp and the printing appears to be bang where it should be. There is no obvious colour bleeding, fuzzy lettering or edges that look as though they’ve been painted with a brush after three large glasses of Chianti.
And there’s another small detail that deserves a mention: the boards are clearly marked.
Rejoice!
The lettering is actually big enough to read without first locating my glasses, a magnifying glass and possibly the Hubble telescope. After 71 builds, I’ve seen plenty of manufacturers apparently working on the theory that if you make the board identification small enough, the builder will simply know which one it is through some form of miniature telepathy.
Not here.
And that matters.
With a kit like Midnight In Venezia, so much of the finished appearance is going to depend on those printed surfaces. You can have beautifully cut MDF, but if the graphics look cheap, the finished model will still look cheap. At this stage, that’s certainly not what we’re seeing.
Of course, everything is still lying flat on the workbench, behaving perfectly and giving me absolutely no reason whatsoever to swear at it.
That’s generally the dangerous stage of any build.
Lighting and Electronics:
Now we get to the lighting, and Anavrin certainly hasn’t treated this as an afterthought.
There is a fairly extensive lighting system to install, with 12 colour-coded wires catering for the various LED heads and strips. Add in the touch sensor, battery box and USB-C cable, and there is quite a bit more going on here than simply connecting a couple of lights and hoping for the best.
Interestingly, the lighting gets involved almost immediately. We’re only on page two when the first part of the system is installed into the base of the model, and some of this will eventually sit beneath the canal surface that gets added later.
And that brings us to something worth flagging up before anyone gets too enthusiastic with the screwdriver.
On page two, step eight, you’re instructed to install the PCB. The natural assumption is that you screw the board into position and then connect the three JST plugs.
That’s certainly what I thought.
Don’t.
The JST connector on the third port needs to be supplied with the cable for part of the lighting array before you secure the board in place. The reason isn’t immediately obvious until you look closely at the third connector. Unlike the others, this particular JST block is mounted horizontally rather than vertically.
Once the PCB is screwed down, there simply isn’t enough room to get that third connector onto the board.
Of course, I discovered this after doing exactly what I wasn’t supposed to do.
So, if you’re following along with the build, save yourself the hassle. Fit all three JST connectors to the PCB first, then secure the board into position.
If you’ve already screwed the PCB down before reading this, congratulations — you’re about to become very familiar with your screwdriver again.
You’ll need to remove the board, fit the connector and then put everything back together.
It’s not a major problem, and in fairness to Anavrin, the manual does show this correctly, with all three connectors already fitted before the PCB is installed. But I think this is one of those cases where we’ve all become so used to the routine of screwing the PCB into place first and then plugging everything into it that I simply went into autopilot.
Cue the screwdriver coming back out again.
Apart from that little trap, the lighting installation is looking well thought out so far, and the colour coding certainly makes identifying the various connections much easier.
And judging by my performance on step eight, perhaps I should keep the screwdriver within easy reach.
The Build:
Right, enough looking at the bits. It’s time to start sticking them together.
One thing I noticed almost immediately with Midnight In Venezia is that Anavrin doesn’t waste much time getting you into the actual construction. There isn’t a long introductory sequence where you’re making 47 identical tiny boxes, three flowerpots and something that may or may not eventually turn out to be a chair.
The build gets moving very quickly.
The opening stages concentrate on the base and lower structure of the scene, with the first lighting installation appearing very early on. That makes sense given what’s eventually going to sit above it, particularly the canal, so there is clearly some forward planning required here rather than simply building the visible parts and worrying about everything else afterwards.
Some of the early construction involves pieces that will eventually be hidden, so it’s tempting to think you can slap everything together, get the glue flowing and move on.
Resist that temptation.
There are several occasions where you’ll need to think a stage or two ahead because subsequent sections have to locate into what you’ve just built.
The first few stages have been remarkably painless. The MDF pieces are fitting their mortises without any need for sanding, and because we’re working on the lower structure of the model, there isn’t even any edge colouring to worry about. These parts will eventually disappear beneath the canal, so nobody is going to be lying awake at night wondering whether I remembered to colour the edge of piece B12.
As the build progresses, the Venetian scene gradually begins to emerge from what initially looks like a collection of rather unremarkable MDF pieces. Walls start appearing, sections of the canal take shape and suddenly you can begin to see where all those decorative elements are going to end up.
There are, inevitably, plenty of smaller components to deal with as well. This is a 439-piece kit, after all, and Anavrin hasn’t achieved that number by throwing in a handful of giant MDF slabs and calling it a day.
Some of the pieces are tiny.
Because dropping a two-inch piece onto the carpet is irritating.
Dropping something that is approximately the size of a fingernail onto the carpet is a completely different sport.
And there are plenty of opportunities for that particular Olympic event here.
The construction itself is proving to be nicely progressive, though. Sections are introduced in manageable stages and the model develops in a logical fashion, with the interior and exterior elements gradually coming together.
There are also plenty of those little details that make you stop occasionally and have a look at what you’ve just built. That’s important with a scene like this because the appeal isn’t simply going to come from the basic structure. It’s the layers of architecture, the canal, the shopfronts, balconies, signs, greenery and lighting that should eventually turn it into Venice rather than simply a collection of wooden walls.
And, of course, this is where my customisation nose starts getting increasingly difficult to control.
As the various sections appear, I’m already looking at some of the areas thinking about what could be improved, added or changed. That’s not necessarily a criticism of the kit — quite the opposite. A good miniature gives you something to work with, and this one is certainly providing plenty of opportunities.
The Tenons – A Satisfying Little Click
There is also an interesting little detail in the way Anavrin has cut the tenons. Each one has a small gap running through the centre, which I’m assuming is there to give the joint a little more flexibility and help achieve a better fit.
Whatever the reason, it certainly seems to work.
When the pieces are pressed together, you get that rather satisfying little click as the tenon finds its mortise and everything locks into place. It’s one of those sounds that tells you the engineers have got something right.
There is, however, a slight downside if, like me, you like colouring your MDF edges. No, not just like, but have a compulsion driven by some unknown hand, then this next step is a problem.
That central cut leaves a dark line right through the middle of the tenon, and there is absolutely no way of getting paint into it properly. You can colour the surrounding MDF until the cows come home, but that little black line is staying put.
Once the pieces are assembled it’s something you’re eye is drawn to, but given how well the joints are fitting, I’ll happily take the tiny dark line in exchange for that reassuring little click.
After all, I’m building a Venetian scene, not restoring the Mona Lisa with a paint marker.
I’ve added a little extra glue to the structural joints, even though the instructions don’t specifically call for it. Once the B12 section locks over its corresponding tenons, the construction becomes very solid, so I can understand why Anavrin is happy to rely on the joints themselves.
I’m just a belt-and-braces sort of builder when it comes to anything that’s going to have half a Venetian city sitting on top of it later.
First Tip of the Day – Q Pieces:
Here’s the first little tip for anyone following the build.
On page eight, step 43, you’ll be making a street sign using pieces Q14 and L10.
Now, a word of warning about anything carrying a Q designation. The Q pieces come from the printed acrylic sheet, and while the manual does show the little symbol telling you to remove the protective film, it isn’t immediately obvious that there actually is a film there.
It looks perfectly clear.
It isn’t.
There is a protective film, and you’ll want to remove it before fitting the pieces. The trick is to take your time because some of these components are absolutely tiny, and the last thing you want to do is attack a delicate piece of printed acrylic with the enthusiasm of someone removing wallpaper.
I use the very tip of my scalpel to gently lift one corner of the film, then grab the edge and peel it away slowly. Don’t go digging at the printed surface itself — you’re only trying to get underneath the protective film.
Take your time with these. The film is there to protect the printing, so it would be a spectacularly bad idea to remove it by scratching the very thing it was put there to protect.
And if you can’t immediately see the film, don’t panic.
It’s there.
Your eyesight isn’t failing.
For once.
The Venetian Travel Trunk
A little disappointment crept in on page 11, where steps 63–65 have us building a trunk.
And when I say building a trunk, I mean sticking three pieces together and then applying a sticker to it.
Now, I appreciate that the sticker does give it the appearance of a trunk, and once it’s in position it does the job. But given the amount of detail elsewhere in this kit, I was rather hoping to find an actual miniature trunk supplied as an accessory rather than three bits of MDF and a sticky label.
My only concern is how well that sticker is going to behave over time.
Will it stay where it’s supposed to, or will my rather smart Venetian trunk eventually turn into a slightly tatty travelling case that looks as though it’s been dragged behind the gondola?
Only time will tell.
But for a premium-priced kit, I think a proper little trunk would have been a nice touch.
The Acrylic Windows:
There is, however, a small blemish that I’ve spotted on the acrylic window inserts.
Around the points where the laser has lifted away from the sheet during the cutting process, there is a slight cloudiness in the acrylic.
Now, I appreciate that this is hardly going to stop anyone in their tracks. For most people, it’s probably something you’d never notice once the model is assembled, particularly with the lighting on and all the other detail competing for your attention.
But then I’m not most people.
I’m reviewing this kit so that you can decide whether it’s worth parting with your hard-earned shekels, and that means I’m going to look at the good, the bad and everything in between.
If I spot something, no matter how small, it’s getting mentioned.
I’m not going to conveniently ignore a minor fault simply because most builders won’t notice it.
In this case, the clouding is minor and doesn’t detract significantly from the overall appearance, but it’s there and it is a small blemish on what is otherwise a very nicely produced set of components.
And that’s really the point of these reviews.
If I’m going to tell you how good something is, you also need to know where it falls short.
No element gets a free pass from me — not even the bits that are small enough to require the binoculars.
Part E6 – A Bit of an Oddity:
Part E6 is a bit of an oddity.
One side is coloured and the reverse is plain, so you’d naturally assume that the coloured side is the one that’s supposed to be seen.
Makes sense, doesn’t it?
Except it isn’t.
The instructions have you fitting E6 printed side down across the top of the shop windows, where, once everything else is in place, it promptly disappears from view completely.
Now, I’m scratching my head a little over this one. I can only assume that when the computer was laying out the parts on the various sheets, E6 happened to land on the printed sheet rather than one of the plain MDF boards.
In other words, the computer probably didn’t give a toss whether I could see the thing once it was built.
And to be fair, it doesn’t really matter. Nobody is going to see the printed side once the model is assembled, so it has no effect whatsoever on the finished result.
But it is an odd one.
You’ve got a perfectly good printed surface on one side of the piece, only to immediately turn it face down and hide it forever.
It’s rather like wallpapering a room and then putting a wardrobe in front of the only wall you’ve decorated.
Still, it’s a harmless curiosity rather than a problem, and it certainly hasn’t stopped anything fitting as it should.
But after 71 builds, I’ve learned to question anything that tells me to put the nice side of a piece where nobody will ever see it.
A Lighting Modification:
By the time I got to page 149, I was surprised to say the least that the build had gone so well.
There really hadn’t been much to remark on. The manual had been excellent throughout, the stages were clearly numbered and logically laid out, and everything had gone together without any of the usual moments where you start questioning whether the problem is with the kit, the instructions or possibly yourself.
Anavrin really had been pulling out all the stops for a trouble-free build.
Then I got to step 143.
This is the little building with the double window, and the instructions call for it to be illuminated by a single LED bead, the same arrangement used back at step 122.
I was dubious that one small LED bead was going to do a particularly good job of illuminating two windows, so naturally I had to test it.
And, as it turned out, my suspicion was correct.
The light was there, but it was hardly shouting, “Come and have a look at me, I’m beautifully illuminated in a warm yellow glow!”
It was more along the lines of, “Is there a power cut? Has somebody cracked out the candles?”
The lower window received some light, but the upper one was left looking decidedly underwhelmed.
I’d already made a mental note back at step 122 that this might be something worth revisiting if the opportunity arose, and step 143 turned out to be the perfect candidate.
So I delved into the box of goodies that lives on the workbench — which, by now, contains enough spare LEDs, wires and assorted electrical bits to probably illuminate a small Scottish village — and retrieved a 19mm warm-white hard-filament LED.
I spliced that into the existing line, fitted it into position and gave it another test.
And I’m pleased to report that it works considerably better.
The larger hard-filament LED spreads the warm light across both windows rather than leaving the upper one looking as though it had been forgotten about.
It’s a relatively simple modification, but it’s exactly the sort of thing I like to do during a build. The original arrangement technically works, but for me, technically working isn’t always enough.
If a small change can make the finished scene look considerably better, then out comes the box of goodies and the soldering iron gets another outing.
A Little Touch of Gold:
Step 157 brings us to the cross on top of the church, and Anavrin has supplied this in yellow.
There’s nothing particularly wrong with it as it comes out of the box, but I couldn’t resist giving it a little bit of an upgrade.
Out came the metallic gold chrome marker.
A quick bit of colouring and, well, I think it has transformed the little cross. It now has a much richer, more ornate appearance, and the metallic finish catches the light beautifully.
But then I would say that, wouldn’t I?
I think it looks absolutely stunning, but this is one of those occasions where I’ll leave the final judgement to you.
Sometimes a tiny bit of customisation is all it takes. And sometimes you just need an excuse to get the shiny marker out.
This was definitely one of those occasions.
And Finally, a Bit of Trouble:
And, for the first time in this build, we have a bit of a warning to put out there.
Everything had been going remarkably smoothly up to this point, but the various steps on page 29 introduce a potential problem that is worth taking your time over.
In particular, make sure parts G24 are properly seated in the window sills.
It might not look particularly critical at the time, but it is.
If G24 isn’t sitting exactly where it should, it has a knock-on effect on the remaining stages, and by the time you get to steps 178–181, things can start to go decidedly pear-shaped.
The various pieces no longer line up quite as Anavrin intended, and you’re suddenly having to persuade components into positions they really don’t want to occupy.
Unfortunately, I discovered this the hard way.
Having reached that point, I ended up doing a little bit of minor joinery work to get everything lined up properly and back to where the designers intended it to be.
Nothing dramatic, and certainly nothing that couldn’t be sorted, but it was the first time in the build where I had to stop and actually correct something rather than simply following the instructions and watching everything fall neatly into place.
So, take this as your warning.
G24 needs to be properly located in those window sills.
Take a little extra care here, because five minutes spent making sure those pieces are correctly seated could save you considerably more time later when you’re wondering why the rest of the building has suddenly decided it no longer believes in straight lines.
After such a trouble-free build up to this point, it was almost reassuring to encounter something that needed a little builder intervention.
Almost.
The Storm Shutter:
The building build-up between pages 33 and 40 threw me a bit of a left-field one.
Very early in steps 205–208, the top section of the building gets a rather nice double window with acrylic inserts. Nothing unusual there, and it looks good.
Then we get to step 208 and a full-width storm shutter goes on — completely covering the left-hand window.
Now, I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that.
It just seems a bit strange to go to the trouble of having a nice double window with acrylic inserts and then cover one of them completely, particularly when the shutters fitted to the window on the right are positioned so that the window can still be seen.
I’m sure there’s a reason for it, and perhaps it’ll all make more sense as the building progresses. At this point I don’t know what is happening behind that window, so I’m certainly not going to start making assumptions. Perhaps the room has a honeymooning couple, in which case closed shutters would be perfectly reasonable and quite frankly, preferable.
But looking at it purely as a builder, it does seem a bit odd.
It’s a little like putting curtains up and then deciding you quite like the curtains better when they’re covering the window.
The Architecture – and the Problem with the Footprint:
One thing that is really becoming apparent as this build progresses is just how much detail Anavrin has managed to squeeze into it, particularly in the buildings.
Having visited Venice on more than one occasion, I can say that the architecture and little details are remarkably true to life. You get a real sense of the character of those Venetian buildings, rather than simply something that has been given a vaguely Italian appearance and called it Venice.
And that makes the size of the finished model increasingly frustrating.
We’re restricted to the standard book nook footprint, and if this had been given even a little more room across the base, you would be able to see much more of what Anavrin has created.
And, quite honestly, it deserves to be seen.
Step 295 provides a perfect example.
It’s another lovely little piece of architecture, with clearly a lot of thought having gone into the detail. But once it is fitted into position, it is tucked away behind one of the main buildings on the right-hand side and you can barely see it.
Because this kit doesn’t use an infinity mirror, there isn’t even a reflection giving you another view of it.
So I’m left wondering why the designers have gone to all the trouble of creating another nicely detailed building, a bridge across the canal as part of the canal setting, only to hide the bloody thing.
It seems such a shame.
This is exactly where a slightly larger footprint would have made a real difference, because there is some lovely detail here that deserves to be seen rather than disappearing behind the building in front of it.
The Mystery Roof Trunk:
And while I was fitting that building, I found myself looking across at the one we installed back on page 21.
It’s the one with the trunk sitting on the roof, and the more I look at it, the more it bothers me.
Not because the trunk itself is badly made — it’s actually a nice little detail — but because I still cannot work out what the hell it is doing up there.
It’s completely out of place.
You have this beautifully detailed Venetian building, all the right architectural touches, and then somebody appears to have dumped a travel trunk on the roof and walked away.
There’s no obvious reason for it to be there and, unless I’ve missed something completely, no explanation in the instructions either.
Perhaps this is how the wealthy Venetians of the period stored their belongings. Maybe the top-floor resident decided the ground floor was getting a bit crowded and thought:
“Sod it, I’ll put the suitcase on the roof.”
Or perhaps the designer simply had a lovely little trunk left over and decided it needed somewhere to live.
Whatever the reason, it’s certainly one of those details that makes you stop building for a minute and wonder what on earth is going on.
And I suspect that, unless Anavrin decides to enlighten me, the mystery of the rooftop trunk is going to remain just that — a mystery.
A Little More Gold:
The kit comes with two wooden carved decorative pieces which attach to the front facade.
With the kit sign already finished in gold, I decided the plain wooden pieces looked a little underwhelming against such a gorgeous kit, particularly with all those lovely gold accents elsewhere.
So, out came my metallic gold marker and I gave both pieces a little makeover.
It was a simple touch, but I think it makes a real difference, lifting them from rather ordinary bits of bare wood into something that looks much more at home on this rather splendid facade.
My Thoughts – One for the Top Five:
Well, I think we can safely say that Midnight In Venezia has earned itself a place in my top five builds.
And that’s not something I say lightly after 71 builds.
This has been an absolute pleasure from start to finish. It is a beautiful kit, superbly engineered, exceptionally well produced and, perhaps best of all, it actually fits together the way you hope these things will.
I’ve used remarkably little glue because the engineering does so much of the work for you, with the pieces fitting their mortises and tenons beautifully and the whole structure gradually coming together with an almost suspicious lack of drama.
When everything fits that well, you know you’re dealing with a manufacturer that has put some serious thought into the design.
The finished scene is packed with detail, particularly in the architecture, and having visited Venice, I think Anavrin has done a cracking job of capturing the character of the place.
There are buildings, windows, balconies, signs, waterways and all those little touches that make you stop building and have another look. Like the striped water poles, the plant window boxes, the coloured canopy part fully out and part of it retracted.
It genuinely feels like a tiny slice of Venice rather than a generic European street scene with a gondola thrown in for good measure.
But — and this is a big but — please, please, please, Anavrin, make this one bigger.
Give it a proper diorama footprint.
The one thing that keeps niggling at me is that the finished model is simply too tight and narrow for what you’ve packed into it. There is so much fantastic architectural detail here that deserves to be seen, yet some of it ends up tucked away behind other buildings or squeezed into places where you simply can’t appreciate it properly.
And that, for me, is the real frustration, because the kit is good enough to deserve better.
If Anavrin took this design and opened it out, gave the buildings a little more breathing space and allowed us to see more of that incredible architecture, I honestly think it could be something very special indeed.
As it stands, it’s already one of my top five builds.
Give it a larger diorama-style footprint and I suspect we’d be talking about something that would be very difficult to beat.
So yes, Midnight In Venezia has impressed me enormously.
Beautifully designed, beautifully engineered, packed with detail and an absolute joy to build.
There are a few little quirks and oddities along the way, as there always are, but they pale into insignificance against what Anavrin has achieved here.
The build time of 6-8 hours is wildly underestimated. My build took 18 hours, and even with sanding where necessary and edge colouring, this was never going to be 6-8 hours.
Now, about that bigger version, Anavrin…
You know where I am.
Pros
- Beautifully designed Venetian scene with a huge amount of architectural detail.
- Excellent laser cutting on the 2.5mm MDF boards.
- Parts fit together exceptionally well, with very little sanding required.
- Excellent engineering, with many joints locking together securely without needing lots of glue.
- Extensive 60-page, full-colour A4 instruction manual.
- Clearly identified and colour-coded wiring makes the lighting installation much easier to follow.
- Impressive lighting system with LED beads, LED strips, touch sensor and USB-C power option.
- Protective acrylic dust covers supplied.
- Excellent selection of printed, wooden and decorative accessories.
- Very good quality printed surfaces and acrylic components overall.
- Clearly marked MDF boards — no need to get the binoculars out!
- The finished model captures the character of Venice remarkably well.
- A genuinely enjoyable build with very few problems.
- Plenty of scope for customisation.
- Easily good enough to earn a place in my top five builds.
Cons
- The standard book nook footprint is much too narrow for a design with this much architectural detail.
- Some beautifully detailed buildings and features end up partially hidden once the model is assembled.
- The building fitted at step 295 is largely obscured by the main building in front of it.
- The acrylic window inserts have some slight clouding around the laser-cut points.
- The original LED arrangement for step 143 didn’t illuminate the upper window effectively, requiring a lighting modification.
- The G24 pieces in the window sills need careful positioning or they can cause problems with later stages.
- Some of the tiny acrylic pieces require considerable care when removing their protective film.
- A few design decisions leave you scratching your head — including that mysterious trunk on the rooftop.
And the Big One:
I really want to see what Anavrin could do with this design if they stopped thinking book nook and started thinking diorama.
There is simply too much good stuff here to squeeze it into such a narrow footprint.
So here’s what AI told me it could look like. Remarkable!
Venice:
“Dicono che, una volta vista Venezia, non la si dimentica mai — e, essendoci stato io stesso, posso certamente capire perché. È uno di quei luoghi che non si limitano a essere visitati; ci si innamora di Venezia, e un piccolo pezzo della città rimane con te anche molto tempo dopo averla lasciata.”
They say that once you’ve seen Venice, you never really forget it — and having been there myself, I can certainly understand why.
It’s one of those places you don’t simply visit; you fall in love with it, and a little bit of Venice stays with you long after you’ve left.
John A. MacInnes – September 2026
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