Book #3: An Object of Beauty

This blog is not The New York Times Book Review. Because of that fact, I have no problem writing the following sentence:

This book was a total piece of crap and may have ruined Steve Martin for me.

Notice how there are no stars up there under that picture? That's because I am giving this book a resounding ZERO stars. Which is unheard of in my reading career. I even gave The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao one star on my Goodreads review and that book took me almost two weeks to get through (I kept falling asleep on the train). Martin's An Object of Beauty though, gets zero stars. I would throw the book in the garbage if not for the fact that I spent $14 on it (granted it was a gift certificate but still) and that I told my friend she could read it. But I am going to seriously suggest that she not read it.

I knew An Object of Beauty was going to be a hard sell for me from the get go since it is about "...the notoriously demanding art world of New York City," (so says the book's jacket). I'm not really an art person (one Art History course in college was enough for me, thank you very much) but I'm a sucker for books set in New York so on to my To Read List it went. Major mistake.

I think my biggest problem with Martin's writing is his descriptions of Lacey Yeager, the book's main character who apparently "...charms men and women, old and young rich and even richer" (totally deceptive book jacket). I'm not really sure who Lacey charmed because it seemed to me that she annoyed everyone (including me) and wrote off the people who (or person as it seems to be only one) who really loved her. I'm also really bothered by the fact that Martin has her sleeping with people left and right. An FBI agent in charge of a case where she is a suspect stops investigating because she sleeps with him? Sorry, Steve Martin that is just dumb.

The book was also terribly my count 180 pages in with no real plot other than Lacey's wearing of tight sweaters, eating in French restaurants and sleeping her way around three neighborhoods of Manhattan (not "zipping all over" as the description claims).

Steve Martin, puhlease stick to being a cutie actor who I love in Cheaper By the Dozen and Its Complicated (have I mentioned Fiance loves Meryl Streep?). I will try my hardest to overlook the fact that you wrote this crap-tastic book AND that apparently you are an art collector (so says my Mom) thus making me think that you are as pretentious as the characters in your book.

Rant over.

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