The Genius by Jesse Kellerman
Jun. 26th, 2008 04:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snugglekittyThings seem to be going well for Ethan Muller. Sure, he's not on speaking terms with his family. True, he never managed to graduate from college. But he owns his own art gallery now, has a long-term relationship with another art maven, and is starting to develop a nice clientele. Then an unexpected turn of events changes his life forever. The strange, fantastic drawings found in the abandoned apartment are too amazing NOT to show. Who cares if the artist is missing? What does it matter if he's on shaky legal ground? If the artist cared about the works, he wouldn't have left them behind - would he?
"I ought to be more hardboiled; I'd like to be. I don't think I have it in me. To write in clipped sentences. To employ gritty metaphor in the introduction of sultry blondes. (My heroine's a brunette, and not the especially sultry kind; her hair isn't jet-black and dripping; it's medium chestnut and, more often than not, pragmatically tied back, workmanlike ponytails or flyaway buns or stashed behind her ears.) I can't do it, so why bother trying?"
This book is one part mystery, one part family saga, and two parts pure art world snark. In places it was funny, mean, touching, and disturbing. Four stars; I know I'm going to want to read it again. If you've ever stared at a hundred-dollar bill on the ground for a long moment before walking away, this book is for you. And if you've ever been to gallery openings - multiple openings - of your own volition, you definitely have to read it.bo
"I ought to be more hardboiled; I'd like to be. I don't think I have it in me. To write in clipped sentences. To employ gritty metaphor in the introduction of sultry blondes. (My heroine's a brunette, and not the especially sultry kind; her hair isn't jet-black and dripping; it's medium chestnut and, more often than not, pragmatically tied back, workmanlike ponytails or flyaway buns or stashed behind her ears.) I can't do it, so why bother trying?"
This book is one part mystery, one part family saga, and two parts pure art world snark. In places it was funny, mean, touching, and disturbing. Four stars; I know I'm going to want to read it again. If you've ever stared at a hundred-dollar bill on the ground for a long moment before walking away, this book is for you. And if you've ever been to gallery openings - multiple openings - of your own volition, you definitely have to read it.bo