With the current glut of celebrities putting their names to books they’ve had nothing to do with it is easy to scoff at the idea of Steve Martin the author. Certainly there’s been a raised eyebrow or two and the odd, ‘What the Steve Martin,’ comment when I’ve been reading his work but what separates the actor from 90% of other celebrity ‘authors’ is that he can write. Like really write. To the point where I genuinely believe that if he had submitted his novels anonymously they would still have found their way onto bookshelves. As with all decent authors, Steve Martin has a good literary voice – what is better is that in your head that voice sounds exactly like the narrator of L.A. Story.
An Object of Beauty is Martin’s third novel, following on from the wonderful Shopgirl and the very funny Pleasure of My Company. It is about the art world and is either terribly well researched, or his completely fictionalised version is brilliantly imagined and believable.
The story is narrated by Daniel, who is telling the story of Lacey, his old friend from college. Lacey is a social and career ladder climber, who has the knack of dominating parties without trying to and working any situation to her own advantage. Set in New York the novel moves through the major events that have taken place in the city since the mid-nineties and how they impacted the big-bucks world of art dealers and auctioneers. Consequently, as would be expected, there are glorious boom-year highs and crushing post-9/11 and Lehman lows, all intertwined with a elements of love, crime and sex.
The novel moves along nicely, skipping through the years and depicting a world very few of us have any experience of in a way that makes it seem familiar. Lacey sleeps her way around Manhattan, screwing over friends and colleagues as necessary, in an endless search for the next hero of contemporary art. Whilst those around her buy pictures by the great painters, seemingly more interested in the financial rather than the aesthetic value of their wall-coverings (there is a particularly funny moment in which a character tells a story about wearing a suit that was intended to be an artwork).
I enjoyed An Object of Beauty though would have to say that this is the weakest of Steve Martin’s novels to date. There was little of the humour I had enjoyed so much in his previous books and I just didn’t care about what happened to any of the characters, particularly Lacey who was at best irritating and at worst contemptuous. On balance I would recommend this book, but only to those who have read Shopgirl and Pleasure of My Company and are looking for a little more Martin in their lives.
