After spotting this one at a Barnes and Noble in the suburban sprawl that is the Northwest Suburbs of Chicago, there was almost no chance it wasn't coming home with me. To begin with, how can you turn down a novel written by Steve Martin? Even if you only knew of his skill with the banjo (grammy-winning apparantly), it near impossible not to be a fan of Martin's. He's as consistently funny as Alec Baldwin in 30 Rock, but spotted so much less frequently that his involvement in something actually causes one to take notice (note: you can even catch them side by side in an episode of 30 Rock from 2008 and judge for yourself). Given that the subject matter combined both Manhattan and the art world over the past twenty years, it was hard to come up with a reason not to read this book. Being a resident of the island tends to create an unrelenting pull to seek out glimpses into the different eras and scenes that have bloomed and withered over the years, and An Object of Desire provides a glimpse into the world of art as a business that is one of the most difficult books to put down that I've found in quite a while.
An Object of Desire exists as a retelling of the story of one Lacey Yeager's unwavering pursuit of success in the business of selling art told by longtime acquaintance and art writer Daniel Franks. We follow Lacey's career from nameless peon at Sotheby's during the post-bust early 1990's all the way through owning her own gallery in the postmodern madness of the late 2000's. Interspersed between Lacey's manipulations and sexual exploits are mini histories of the Manhattan art scene, its personalities, the collectibility of high art, and, always, prices. It often feels as if one is getting a tour of the commercial side of the art world disguised as a story. Vignettes on Warhol or art's own search for a new era in the late 20th century are often accompanied by pictures of the works involved. In the case of an unfamiliar Gober sculpture or a Parrish print that plays a key role in the story, this is very beneficial, as one can only describe an 'interpretation of a porcelain sink' so well in prose.
The characters, though deliberate caricatures, remain both believable and alive. Very little of the book, if any, falls flat, and while it may not leave your world-view shaken, you might just feel like you've been to a few more high-stakes Sotheby's auctions than you really have (especially if that number is 0). If you have even a passing interest in art or Manhattan, I highly recommend picking this one up.
(...sadly I read this book 6 months ago and don't have my copy leaving the first two paragraphs written as I finished the book and the final one...not so much. Quite a bit missing there, but better than leaving things left unsaid.)
