(1/10/2016)
Art. What is it? Why do it? Who cares? Using fiction in an attempt to answer these questions is commendable and daunting. Prentiss does a respectable job. At times her prose rambles but her believable characters carry themselves and the reader through some most unbelievable situations mostly unscathed.
James Bennett, an art critic of some repute, is hopelessly addicted to the sensual nature of his passion. His wife, Marge, loves James so much she gives up her passion to enable his eccentricities. Raul Engales, Argentinian/American, new to the 80's New York art culture striving the find his way while running from past demons. Lucy, naive 20 something, escaped Ketchum, Idaho "…pulled the trigger on the move…to what people called…The Big Apple—because of a book and a postcard, which she believed to be signs." Set in New York City among artists of all stripes. Mix in a horrific accident or two, love, jealousy, fame won and lost and a story vaguely reminiscent of Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch emerges.
Prentiss peppers her writing with sentences that require a second look making the plot almost secondary. Describing Raul as "… he had perhaps become old, in spirit at least, much earlier; when your parents die, so does the idea of infinite time on the planet. Instead, you are forced into becoming weirdly wise, gaining too soon the knowledge that life is both precious and perfectly meaningless, neither philosophy leaving much room for boredom." Lucy, months into her adventure muses: "…the men adored her and then disposed of her. With each of them she felt briefly and tightly tethered, hopeful that they would deliver her to that place that she craved: the deep dark cavern of love and lust, the place where longing stopped. But none of them did and in between her encounters with them, and usually even during, she felt deeply alone." And in a lighter vein, the description of a gallery owner working an opening. "Winona was like a sponge, wringing herself out onto someone and then moving on to soak in someone else."
Underneath it all is the question of why—why pursue a passion? For whom? Walter Pater has written that "…art comes to you proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass." Tuesday Nights in 1980 merely attempts to chronicle the depth of energy and passion that enables art to grace our moments, successfully.
Highly recommended for lovers of art and contemporary literature and/or enjoy a story that demands an engaged reader.