The blurb on the back of this edition describes the book as "the triumphant story of postwar American art." I don't know if that's how Updike intended it, but as he presents it, there was nothing triumphant about it...just a boys' club of self-important, pretentious freaks, many of whom had little artistic skill, engaging in one big circle jerk. It's the story of successive "movements" lasting little more than a decade, only to be replaced by another even more vacuous "school" the tenets of which completely contradict it, based only on the whim of the moment with no real standards or values. Far from being triumphant, the story of postwar American art as Updike presents it is more like a nose-dive off a cliff, a nihilistic "deconstruction" of any genuine values that art can offer, expressing the view (in Updike's own words) that only rottenness matters, and beauty is of no importance whatsoever.[return][return]In any case, the blurb goes on to assure us, "this book is not a thinly-veiled treatise [on the history of modern art]"---but this is clearly a case of protesting too much, as that is exactly what it is. Some artists are actually mentioned by their real names, but those who are more sort of characters in the novel (such as Pollock and the "pop artists" like Warhol and Lichtenstein) are presented in barely-fictionalized versions with false names.[return][return]Still, it is well-written, and in a way it's to his credit that Updike is too honest a writer to present what is really a story of cultural decline as "triumphant" (though he is clearly sympathetic to it). Some of these characters' stories are interesting, whether you like them or not, though Updike unfortunately intersperses them with pretentious chunks of art "theory"---of course, the ideas are important to understand what these people were doing and why, but they are often rather clumsily inserted rather than skillfully integrated into the story.[return][return]If you want to read a novel about modern art, I would recommend Steve Martin's An Object of Beauty, which is at least somewhat more sincere, over this.
John Updike knows a lot more about art than I do. He actually graduated from art school, so he did have the background for this fictionalized story about the American 'modern' art world of the 50's and 60's. I enjoyed it if for no other reason that trying figure out who the actual artist he was writing about was. Was Guy supposed to be Andy Warhol? Only straight and married with a couple kids? Zach was clearly Jackson Pollack. The book essentially had no plot and followed the format of a young blogger interveiwing elder Hope, the wife of a couple of the major artists, and no slouch of an artist herself. Took me a long time to get through, because without narrative drama, it was easy to put down and not return right away. It did however keep bringing me back, and not at all sorry to have learned what (apparently) John Updike thinks of those artists, and art in general. He raises a similar question near the end of the book that I asked of a gallery manager recently in regards to (wonderful) extrememly large sculptures (not made for the outdoors). What do you do with them? No normal person has the space for them. What is the point of art that is destined for only a museum space, or dissambly? Is it still art?
What do You think about Seek My Face (2004)?
As a work of fiction, I enjoyed the narrative and its format. I found his style interesting, even if such a well-connected woman seemed a bit contrived. I enjoyed the details of the conversation, and I really wished I could step into the frame at time. I found that I really didn't believe some of the questions that the interviewer asked. It seemed that despite being a conversation between two women, it was surprisingly male. Why not ask more about what it is like being a woman in the art world? What about her own work? Coming from an art history background, I struggled with Updike's alternate history. I found his parody of specific artists puzzling at times. Mentions of real artists, followed by mentions of fictional artists.The fictional artists were supposed to have a weight that the greats of the Abstract Expressionists had, but instead they felt flat.
—Natalie
Beautifully written, joy to read.It seems the universe wants to tell me something. Coincidently I have read "The Paris wife" (Hemingway seen from the perspective of his first marraige.). Before that "The woman" about the wives of Frank Lloyd Wright. Now John Updike did a tremendous job intertwining truth and fiction to elucidate 2 great artist perceived from a female partner's perspective. I have enjoyed the movie by Madonna - "W.E." about Wallace Simpson's take on the abdication of Edward and their lives in the wake of that. To top that, the movie "Hemingway and Gellhorn" was brilliant to further my trip on great men from up close.As much as history bores me, I am addicted to the stories of people, their feelings and relationships. Written with delicate passion, painted on such patient canvasses.
—Elsabe
This was my first experience with John Updike and far from my traditional audio boom fare of fairly mindless. What a talent, no wonder he is so well regarded. The quality of writing is absolutely superb, on par with some of the finest that I've read. There is such emotional intelligence, such marvelous attention to details, such incredible grasp of human nature, such assuredness with which he renders his characters wholly three dimensional. The story is a biography of a woman as told by herself to an interviewer and in flashbacks. Remarkable woman with a fascinating long creative life, an artist herself and wife to some very famous artists as well, particularly her first husband, heavily inspired by Jackson Pollock. To any art fan this would be an interesting read just from that aspect, but this was really just such a terrific character study. The fact that a man can write such awesomely intricate women is incredibly impressive. The reading of the book was top notch. Excellent introduction to the author. Recommended.
—Bandit
