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sbmundy 's review for:
Tiepolo Blue
by James Cahill
I feel compelled to start with a "I almost never write reviews" disclaimer. Ever read a book and felt positively bewildered by the glowing praise it has received? I picked this one up while traveling because it sounded so compelling, and frankly, Stephen Fry's stamp of approval goes a long way for me. Unfortunately, this book bored me stiff from start to finish. And, I didn't finish it. I couldn't. I abandoned it with 70 pages left because of the unrelenting feeling I was wasting my time.
It is clear that Cahill is an academic and this is not usually a detractor for me. I love challenging, elevated writing styles. But good god, you have to have a deep appreciation of art history to slog through the overwrought descriptions that were superfluous. Character writing is very important to me and to be honest, no character was fleshed out enough to make me care and feel invested.
Perhaps my biggest gripe is the portrayal of Erica, the poet and creator of the installation called SICK BED. Cahill's clunky descriptions are at their worst here. First, he notes that "...she is black, an uncommon sight in Cambridge." That's all fine and well as an introduction. But later on Don encounters her again: "...a woman he doesn't know. She is black," end sentence. Ah yes! Then he remembers it's the same woman from before. It's curious to me that this is the first and defining quality of this character. I'll acknowledge that surely Cambridge at this period was starkly white. But sadly, Erica has very few things to say in this novel, is given very little air time considering the fact that having made this installation was the whole catalyst that set Don on a different direction. She is shown as a reactionary and "edgy" poet and artist but given barely any agency. In short, a lazily written foil to Don.
So, yes, a snoozefest. I was hoping to be immersed in Don's psychology. As some reviewers here have said, it seems as though Cahill wrote this book for himself, and perhaps other well-to-do white English academics. You could just read Isherwood's "A Single Man" to get a more poignant take on a somewhat similar story.
It is clear that Cahill is an academic and this is not usually a detractor for me. I love challenging, elevated writing styles. But good god, you have to have a deep appreciation of art history to slog through the overwrought descriptions that were superfluous. Character writing is very important to me and to be honest, no character was fleshed out enough to make me care and feel invested.
Perhaps my biggest gripe is the portrayal of Erica, the poet and creator of the installation called SICK BED. Cahill's clunky descriptions are at their worst here. First, he notes that "...she is black, an uncommon sight in Cambridge." That's all fine and well as an introduction. But later on Don encounters her again: "...a woman he doesn't know. She is black," end sentence. Ah yes! Then he remembers it's the same woman from before. It's curious to me that this is the first and defining quality of this character. I'll acknowledge that surely Cambridge at this period was starkly white. But sadly, Erica has very few things to say in this novel, is given very little air time considering the fact that having made this installation was the whole catalyst that set Don on a different direction. She is shown as a reactionary and "edgy" poet and artist but given barely any agency. In short, a lazily written foil to Don.
So, yes, a snoozefest. I was hoping to be immersed in Don's psychology. As some reviewers here have said, it seems as though Cahill wrote this book for himself, and perhaps other well-to-do white English academics. You could just read Isherwood's "A Single Man" to get a more poignant take on a somewhat similar story.