Review: An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin

I just need to say something before you read this review. Apparently I am completely in the minority about liking this book. Tons of people did not like this book. So I don’t really recommend that you read this book in light of that. I still liked it. — GGG

Book: An Object of Beauty

Author: Steve Martin

Published: November 23, 2010, by Grand Central Publishing; 295 pages

Date read: October 7, 2011

First line: “I am tired, so very tired of thinking about Lacey Yeager, yet I worry that unless I write her story down, and see it bound and tidy on my bookshelf, I will be unable to ever write about anything else.”

Rating: 4.25/5 original Warhol screenprints, or 425/5 crummy drawings by an artist who only thinks he has talent

I’ve been a fan of Steve Martin since I was a child.  I remember the first time my parents let me watch The Three Amigos; I was probably five or six, so I didn’t get most of the jokes, but I still loved the movie and developed a love for Steve Martin’s work as I saw  him in other films and on TV. Years later, when Shopgirl came out, I immediately decided to read it; I was very curious to see how Martin would transition from acting and comedy to writing. Martin’s literary talent completely bowled me over; he may be a comedic actor, but he is a Serious Writer, one that I enjoy immensely despite the mixed reviews the book got from so-called literary “experts” (er, “experts” such as myself?). I saw potential in that first work, and I feel that potential has been fulfilled to a great extent in this latest novel, An Object of Beauty.

People who aren’t familiar with Martin outside of his films and comedy may not realize that he is an avid art collector. Object rests solidly on a foundation formed by the world of art–not so much the world of creating art, but the world of trading art, an aspect of the industry that only employees or art lovers with significant cash usually get to experience. Martin takes us behind the scenes of auctions, galleries, art theft (something close to Martin’s own heart) and discusses the nature of contemporary art and the differences between the emotional and the monetary value of art (“Provenance, subject matter, rarity, and perfection made a painting not just a painting, but a prize.”).  Martin weaves the art geekery into a story about Lacey Yeager, a modern woman reminiscent of Holly Golightly, if Holly Golightly had used her chutzpah to make her own way instead of using it to land a man who could take care of her.  Daniel, an art writer and confidant of Lacey, narrates this book that follows her through art education, her work in various positions in the art industry, her relationships and her sometimes-underhanded deeds, touching only briefly on his own life until close to the end of the book.

Martin writes Lacey with love, and she is an easy character to love, unpretentious and full of joie de vivre.  What I find refreshing about Martin’s writing is that his characters are not so beloved that they become immune to heartbreak and hardship, nor does he go in the other direction and make their crises insurmountable or crippling to heighten the sense of drama.  When reading Martin’s books, I never feel the sense of build-up and letdown that I sometimes get when reading other authors–A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry and Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey come to mind, both books that spend hundreds of pages steadily preparing you for a satisfying ending and then sweeping the rug out from under you at the last minute, causing delicious anticipation to fizzle and collapse. Object builds anticipation in a gentler way, never tricking you into forgetting the basic natures of the characters; because of that, you’re not surprised when the characters act, well, characteristically.  A bit of mystery helps propel the story forward, but as an art lover myself, I found the story so intriguing that I wasn’t spending the story anticipating the next clue to solving the mystery.

That having been said, if you have no interest in art, especially fine art, this book will probably drag for you in some places. A cast of lively characters come in and out of the story in tandem with the artsy bits, perking the subject up and making it largely accessible, but there are parts that venture into the more abstract realms of art theory. (You won’t appreciate a few of the jokes like art lovers do, either–of course, being outside of the art world, you may be able to appreciate the satire in a wholly different way.)

I give the book fewer than five stars because as much as I like Martin’s writing, he’s certainly not a perfect writer.  While I did notice grammatical hiccups and strange adverb use from time to time, his general writing style reads smoothly, camouflaging mistakes and making them seem less jarring–or perhaps his mistakes simply are less jarring than other writers’ mistakes, as his writing is far more technically correct than some other authors that come to mind.  Because Martin writes stories that I love–in other words, because I am biased–and because he’s so multi-talented that he has had less time to practice the art of writing novels than many other exclusively-novelists who aren’t even as good as he is, I cut him a little slack on the polishing.  I’m glad that Martin decided to write novels at all, because he has a natural flair that makes up for the practice-time lost while he was starring in films and writing hilarious comedy.

I’m in the process of badgering my husband into reading this book (Mr. Geek was two classes away from an art minor in college), so lucky for you, I’m too occupied to badger you to read the book, even if it’s a honey badger. I can’t even predict if you’ll like the book.  If you love art, you’ll probably like it.  If you liked Breakfast at Tiffany’s, you might find yourself digging it.  If you liked Steve Martin’s other books, probably you should pick it up.  Or maybe you’ve read this book and you want to chime in with your opinion?  If so, you can leave it below in the comments!