Ken's Reviews > Second Place

First of all, Jeffers, you'll want to know that this book consists of the protagonist -- a certain "M" who is a lady of letters (but no name) -- addressing an entire narrative to someone called Jeffers. You know this because, every two pages or so, she says "Jeffers" mid-sentence.

This, Jeffers, becomes a distraction for the reader.

Speaking of distraction, M has a thing for this famous painter named (wait for it) "L." As you can see, they are quite close, Jeffers. In the alphabet.

In the book, M cold-writes L, inviting him to a "second place" (read: cottage) on her property where he can paint in peace (note: a tall order, given her stalking propensities). The fact that a total stranger would write a famous painter thinking he would accept such a bizarre invitation is crazy. The fact that L accepts M's invitation is crazier still.

In literature, Jeffers, this is what's known as "the suspension bridge of disbelief."

M has a husband named Tony (you were expecting "T" perhaps?) who is like a large puppy dog. Think St. Bernard complete with mini-barrel collar. Devoted beyond belief (remember the bridge from last paragraph). But M, who is not very likeable (making the M-person point of view particularly trying, Jeffers) seems convinced that L will become her soul mate. And, of course, that he will paint her. And, of course, that the painting will become Starry, Starry M.

But he won't paint her, Jeffers! He's as ornery as Leonardo (or was it Michelangelo who had the temper?). Whichever. One of those Neapolitan grouches. And if you suspect this refusal might bring some schadenfreude (I looked up the spelling, Jeffers) for the reader, give yourself the Sherlock Holmes award!

As an omniscient POV narrative, this book might have been more interesting, but reckoning with the rather suffocating 3rd-person limited-to-M point of view makes it a bit of a trial. The author is trying to make some points about painting and life, I think, but it's the unlikable personality that keeps photo-bombing her intent. It's like a thick filter that doesn't so much filter things as block them. This happened with my lawn mower once, Jeffers, and it positively refused to go on!

Not that the book is all THAT bad, Jeffers. This isn't one of those stink bomb, one-star reviews you so cherish when visiting Goodreads. No, it had its moments. Like p. 128, where I marked the quote "Nothing evil ever dies. Especially of remorse." It reminded me of the front page of The New York Times from 2016-2020, Jeffers.

And, on p. 158, where I noted the line, "But the self is our god -- we have no other." I think Freud would like that, Jeffers. Just like he did the id and the super ego and a cigar being a cigar.

In the end, M learns something about herself as a mother and a wife, but not much about her L problem. I'm convinced there was a grand plan regarding L and painting and life, too. But it never quite got off the ground, Jeffers. Just like my plan to throw a big "Covid Is Over!" party this fall.

Well I suppose it's time to sign off, Jeffers. I've decided to 3-star this book. I kept reading, after all, though I don't know why. In the name of that mystery, I'm awarding the author some points. Clearly something was at play in the subconscious here, something the author was aware of and I was not.

Once I realize what this magical ingredient is, I plan to paint it. First, though, I will take a walk on the marshes. There's something about them -- never quite nailed down, but mentioned frequently -- in this book. Perhaps, then, if I see for myself?

Take care or, as they say nowadays: Stay safe (best place to succeed: that "second place" called a "cave")! Your trusted pen pal, Special K.