Some reviews suggested a psychological (suspenseful) novel about the art world. Wanting to explore, now & then, contemporary fiction, I unwisely ordered. This is the silliest book Ive read in a long, long time. Knowing this world very well, w a close chum who was a NY art dealer for decades, and another pal who has assisted in 3 major NYC galleries, along w many artist friends, in NYC and Los Angeles, I cannot take this melodrama seriously -- or as satire, which may be its failed aim.
The central figure Jeff goes to work for LA art dealer Francis Arsenault, an enigmatic power-broker. Jeff knows nothing about art or art dealing or, frankly, anything: a recent graduate of UCLA, he falls in love w Arsenault's daughter, and everything is just fine until she learns that Daddy promised a young femme artist a show in return for a screw. Her art is bad. Daughter has an all-American hissy-fit. ~~ Tant pis!
Dealers do fool around w artists...yes, but only w the "good" ones; sometimes, so do art critics. (The NYT--for years--had a critic who "made" a young woman a Star.) ~ However, I've never ever been to an art opening that played canned music, which is done at the Arsenault Gallery in LA. Jeff, starting at the gallery on the lowest level, would be getting minimum pay. This doesnt bother him as he's house-sitting for Brad Pitt. His job is, frankly, the most boring in the world. At another opening he meets the great minimalist Agnes Martin. He doesnt "get" her work. But Arsenault believes Jeff has "an eye."
Inspired by Somerset Maugham, the author tells his story as a told-to-me in an airport lounge during a flight delay. Like Maugham, he even tries to end w a surprise "kicker," which is a Nothing. Maugham was The Master of such "stories." The author here does jab LA/Hollywood art collectors with a stinging, accurate line: "They werent the type to drop money on unknown and emerging artists. They wanted art that people would recognize." If only his novel simmered with this kind of wit.
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Jeff once saved the dealer from drowning, hence the title, if you care.
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