Fiction

My Bookslut review of An Object of Beauty: A Novel by Steve Martin was added to the amazing Lady Journos — dedicated to closing the byline gender gap!

Read my entire feminist critique of Steve Martin’s novel on Bookslut.

An Object of Beauty, Steve Martin’s latest novel about New York City’s art collecting scene begins in the early ’90s, and rapidly moves to 2010: Christie’s, Sotheby’s, downtown parties, and uptown apartments. Martin’s protagonist, the ambitious and savvy Lacey Yeager, arrives in New York, originally from Atlanta, with a penchant for art history. But from the beginning, Martin establishes that Lacey is not to be confused with other precious, fresh-faced 23-year-olds. Lacey is as aware of her beauty as she is of a Cezanne, and often uses her understanding of both to her professional advantage. She accepts a position as Sotheby’s, selling art by commission, and ascends her social climb from there, meeting everyone worth knowing and eventually developing a taste for “objects of beauty.” Lacey parlays her commissions into her own budding art collection, purchasing a small Andy Warhol before the value skyrockets some years later.

Eighteen Acres, the debut novel by Nicolle Wallace, communications director under George W. Bush and campaign advisor for John McCain and Sarah Palin, approaches contemporary politics from the angle of women’s commercial fiction. The three main characters each carry different careers within the realm of US politics: Melanie Kingston, the White House chief of staff, Charlotte Kramer, America’s first female president, and Dale Smith, a White House correspondent.

Read the entire review on Bookslut.

Claire Messud’s highly praised novel about the aimless wanderings of New York City’s young, intellectual, and elite is both humorous and emotionally engrossing. Messud’s three main characters met while studying at Brown University: Marina, the aspiring writer and daughter of an established literary icon, Julius, the perpetually temping Village Voice has-been, and Danielle, the studio-dwelling melancholy. Nearly ten years later, all three characters are approaching 30 with little to show for their Ivy League education, their developed opinions, and privilege.

Marina, the daughter of pretentious journalist and novelist Murray Thwaite, was offered a book deal at 23 to do an analytical study of children’s attire as a reflection of cultural attitudes. Seven years later, Marina has yet to make any progress on the book and flummoxes about her parents’ uptown apartment, contemplating getting a job but fearing that it would ultimately make her “too ordinary.” She attends parties on her father’s arm, defers to him on all things remotely literary, and generally invites the reader to implement a Freudian interpretation of their relationship at every turn.

Julius sleeps with his boss, moves in with him, then proceeds to destroy the relationship with a string infidelities. He too is jobless. Danielle spends much of her time at Marina’s house, catching up with the parents of her college friend as they still envision her as the over-zealous 22-year-old with a penchant for smart ideas. They hug her, pat her  on the head, and have her over for dinner often. But when Murray, Marina’s father, asks Danielle to meet him on the sly to discuss Marina’s crumbling literary career, Murray and Danielle fall into the throes of an illicit, borderline incestuous affair.

Messud is a detailed writer with a fondness, and a talent, for character portraits. In The Emperor’s Children, her protagonists are drawn out in outstanding detail; they could very well function as stories of their own regardless of the larger plot that unfolds. Her tendency to overwrite their personas, ticks, and quirks can be tedious at times, but does reflect a more traditional and time-honored approach to character description that goes absent from many contemporary novels. Messud’s voice is both charmingly chatty and uncompromisingly literary — a rare find, as well as nuanced. She captures many moments between her Woody Allen-reminiscent characters with fine overtones.

However, her comment on the unsavory intersection of privilege and intellectualism is resounding and clear. By weaving the stories of Marina, Julius, and Danielle together into a complex friendship of mutual entitlement and respective purposelessness, Messud offers readers an intricate peek into the downside to being young and brilliant.

To read more about Claire Messud, click here.

Yann Martel’s second novel, Beatrice and Virgil, details a developing relationship between the protagonist and writer, Henry, and a playwriting taxidermist. Having given up writing after a tense conversation with several editors about his most recent book on the Holocaust, Henry moves to an unspecified metropolis with his wife Sarah and takes up various hobbies to replace his love of writing. Henry makes a point to answer much of his fan mail, often writing out long letters to fans of his first novel and encouragement for young, aspiring writers. But a particular envelope with highlighted passages about the torture of animals continues to haunt Henry for weeks. Upon seeking out the sender, Henry finds himself at a taxidermy shop, discussing the craft of writing with a slender, gaunt man determined to finish his play about a donkey and a monkey.

Despite the somewhat random, almost farcical subject matter, Martel’s writing is able to anchor this story in a very accessible, matter-of-fact, confident style that doesn’t stop to even consider the humor of a playwriting taxidermist. The awkward moments between the taxidermist and Henry, usually revolving around the taxidermist’s play,  are acutely captured in sharp-witted hesitations, timed well with observations on writing by Henry — hoping always to assuage the gaucheness of the antisocial taxidermist with his pearls of literary wisdom.

Written as if it were one long inside joke, Beatrice and Virgil endures a lot of dramatic shifts in plot that are impossible to predict, and often seem nonsensical. But, much like an outlandish, perhaps fabricated  story you would overhear from a friend of a friend, the sheer silliness and uniqueness of this tale is enough to drive the plot along.  The phlegmatic writing, however,  contributes greatly to Beatrice and Virgil, providing just enough authenticity to a completely extraordinary story.

To read more about Yann Martel, click here.