Customer Reviews

The Hound in the Left-hand Corner: A Novel

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

In his delightful send-up of the art world, museums, their trustees, and conservators, author Giles Waterfield recreates one tumultuous day in the life of the BRIT, the Museum of British History, as it prepares for a major exhibition, the centerpiece of which is an almost unknown painting by Gainsborough, owned by the Chairman of the BRIT Board of Trustees. The painting, "Lady St. John Impersonating Puck," sets the tone for the novel, loosely based on Shakespeare's comedy, A Midsummer Night's Dream. Oberon and Titania, the King and Queen of Fairies, become Auberon Booth, the Director of the museum, and his girlfriend, Tanya. Helena and Hermia in Shakespeare's play are loosely represented here by Helen Lawless, the Asst. Curator of Art, and Hermia Bianchini, the Exhibitions Assistant. Bottom, the leader of the "rude mechanicals," is echoed in John Winterbotham, the Head of Security, who is trying to protect the Gainsborough.

The novel opens "on the morning of Midsummer's Day of 2001," as Helen Lawless, in charge of the exhibition, manages to sneak a peak at the Gainsborough, previously kept hidden, and leaves with some questions about the dog in the left-hand corner. Jane Vaughn, the Chief Curator, also develops questions. She has discovered a significant difference in the appearance of the dog between the current painting and an early photograph. Eventually, Diana, Jane, and the head of the Conservation Department plot to view the painting without Security present so they can shine a UV light on it to examine the surface.

As other characters become involved in the action, the reader soon realizes that this is a study of egos and ambition as reflected in the clash between the trustees of the museum and the "worker bees" who run it. Several "thwarted in love" scenarios add intrigue and color to the narrative, with the plot coming to a climax at the banquet celebrating the exhibition, when the Trustees' far too ambitious menu creates havoc among the catering staff (which has no kitchen in which to prepare four hundred meals), and a slapstick scene, worthy of Monty Python, results.

Beautifully executed and great fun to read, the novel does not require any familiarity with Shakespeare or with museums to appreciate the broad comedy, the farce-like disasters which befall the prideful trustees and administrators, and the author's gentle satire of pretension. Wakefield, who has experience in the art world, chooses to walk the fine line between trenchant observation and biting satire. Ultimately, he presents a warm and rather gentle spoof of a world usually hidden from the public. Mary Whipple

26 February, 2004
Reviewer: Ronald Haak from Cork, Ireland
I'm grateful to Mary Whipple's analysis (below) for exposing the Shakesperian depths that will add to my enjoyment of this book when I reread it. I admit my own reading was far more superficial and I enjoyed it none the less for that. I found it simply ravishing on its simplest level and revelled in its unmasking of the pretensions of so many varieties of political correctness. ("You have to hand it to him. He took his wife's name on marrying. A very effective move.") The book is replete with gambits like this, oozing in PC-one upmanship, but these are shown to be affectations. For all their fashionable utterances of making musuems more nitwit, more accessible, less elitist, less historical, less scholarship-and-research oriented, the big musuem banquet at the book's climax is as snobbish and haughty as any GENUINE aristo banquet of the 18th century (the theme of of the banquet is "elegance"). The politically correct staff are positively reeking with status envy and the chapter on these people getting dressed for the royal bash shows them trying to alleviate their status-anxiety by designer gowns, lavish jewellry and order of precedence to the extent they are almost literally sick at the thought of being humiliated by the absence of some bauble or the lack of a trendy remark. To me, these insecurities and hypocritical maneuveurings were THE deliciously major, wicked theme of the book and I had one whale of a ride, demanding of it no more than that. The treatment is wonderfully multi-faceted and witty, and readers will engage it on many levels, with no single monolithic interpretation of the book possible. Definitely the product of a wicked and perceptive intelligence.

Having worked in the museum world for 33 years it was a sheer delight to read the book by Giles Waterfield for he managed to capture the imagination and his clever use of language always captured the essence of a scenario or situation to perfection. I can wholeheartedly recommend this book to any person working in the museum or cultural sector as it shows us all up in a most sensitive and creative fashion. The man is a genius with words and I loved the book enormously

"We're thinking out of the box, looking at a new museum concept, a museum about people, not objects," boasts Sir Lewis Burslem, the chairman of the board of the Museum of British History (trendily renamed BRIT), one of the villains of Waterfield's tart and hilarious satire at the politics and commercialism that hinder a museum's ultimate goals of preservation and education.

BRIT is about to host a new blockbuster of an exhibit called, simply, "Elegance," and Burslem, with advertising opportunities in mind, is proposing an extension to the museum for "showcasing material culture, popular music, sport, shopping..." A gala dinner and party will open the exhibit later that day, and members of the royal family will be in attendance, providing the museum with a perfect public relations opportunity for announcing the expansion.

At the center of the show is a newly discovered Gainsborough portrait, graciously donated by the chairman himself yet unexamined by the museum staff before its display. When Jane Vaughan, the chief curator, finally sees the painting mounted the night before the exhibit, she begins to think that something is not quite right. And therein lies a midsummer's nightmare for Auberon Booth, the museum's harried director.

Waterfield is a former curator and gallery director himself, so his heroes and targets are certainly no surprise, nor is the frenzied finale all that unexpected. Yet, in spite of its predictability, there are laughs aplenty, and the mirth mushrooms as the plot progresses. Along the way, the author skewers scholars, high-society donors, picture restorers, art dealers, journalists, security guards, and even caterers (who provide the most over-the-top hilarity).

But something is missing. As one of the scholars on the institution's board of directors argues, "The only thing that makes museums special is their collections," and Waterfield's underlying message is that museums are, at heart, about art. Yet the art itself is mostly absent from this book. All we really learn about the mysterious "Lady St. John Impersonating Puck" is that it is a portrait of a noblewoman and a hound. Gainsborough's biography and artistic qualities and technique are beside the point; the painting could just as easily have been a missing Hogarth or Reynolds--or any other English artist. In the end, even in this clever and wicked satire, politics and commercialism overshadow the art itself.

Anyone who has ever worked in a large State Library or Art Gallery that has big exhibition or preservation departments is going to find a lot to identify with in this whimsical, fun, and totally satirical novel by Giles Waterfield. Waterfield obviously knows his subject well, as he recounts over a twenty-four hour period, the office politics, the snobbery, the workaholic mentality, and the class machinations of the (fictional) Museum of British History in London. With a simple, direct narrative that is almost journalistic in style, the book may put some off as it literally has a cast of thousands. Still, it's marvelously effective as a cutting, rambunctious satire on the world of museums where quality exhibitions that reflect the integrity of history and scholarship have become secondary to making money and being commercially viable.

The novel opens with the museum staff preparing to hold a gala dinner in the Great Hall for the premier of its latest blockbuster, an exhibition called Elegance. A certain royal presence will be attending, so everyone from the hospital administrators, to curatorial staff, to security is in a state of controlled alarm. Most panicked is the museum's young, maverick director Dr. Auberon Booth, who is engaged in a bitter power struggle over the future direction of the Museum with Sir Lewis Burslem, a overbearing property tycoon and the museum's chairman. Sir Lewis has just loaned to the exhibition a painting from his own private collection - the Lady St John as Puck, a little known painting by Gainsborough.

Dr. Jane Vaughan the museum's chief curator becomes convinced that not all is, as it seems with the painting. Jane tries to uncover the curious history behind the painting, and in the process she finds some devious shenanigans going on which not only implicate Sir Lewis but also dubious figures from the stylish art world, a Japanese tycoon, and the scheming Lucian Bankes, the museum's head of exhibitions. Running concurrently with this, is the behind the scenes story of Angel Cooks, the catering company run by Mr. Rupert and their disastrous preparations for the ambitious gala dinner.

The action is divided up into short episodes throughout the day, as the narrative jumps from person to person, but at the heart of the story is the true provenance of the Gainsborough and Jane's inimitable efforts to find out the truth behind the painting. The astute reader will probably guess quite early on what the scam is, but this shouldn't detract you from finishing the story. When evening arrives and the ambitious ball is underway, the reader is in for a real treat as the snotty guests get unadulteratingly drunk and are forced to eat a cold dinner of crab and vegetables when the power to the portable ovens accidentally goes out. The conclusion is wonderfully ludicrous with the rich gallery of absurd, self-obsessed, and neurotic characters, all coming together for the final, glamorous showdown underneath the Lady St. John as Puck. The Hound in the Left Hand Corner is de-rigor entertainment for lovers of fine art, and probably for lovers of art in general. Mike Leonard November 04.

Waterfield's fantastic farce leads you through a rollicking day in the life of BRIT--the fictional museum of British History. While this piece of fiction is definitely a satire, one suspects that perhaps it is not too far fetched in its descriptions of the cast of characters involved in the opening of the exhibition "Elegance". The star of the exhibition is an almost unknown Gainsborough painting, which also happens to be the property of Sir Lewis Burslem, chairman of BRIT. The painting is to be unveiled that evening at a gala dinner of 400 people, including the Duke of Clarence and other "very important people." However, as the day goes by, things begin to go very wrong, and you will find yourself laughing out loud at this unique and thoroughly entertaining novel. For museum buffs, this is a must read! And, if you're not a museum buff, read it anyways! You'll love it.

Witty, literate and quotable - I missed the Midsummers Night connection also but didn't find it diminshed my enjoyment at all.

Interesting insight into the world of museums; certainly nothing dry about it or its inhabitants. As the author has extensive experience in that venue, he would know the truth of it....

Read it!

Not being a museum insider, I haven't a frame of reference to the satire this story represents but still found it an enjoyable enough read. I enjoyed the plot, though I was not terribly fond of the story being told mostly via narration of each character's interior thoughts. The book is short and felt a bit unfinished. There were many story threads, few of which are wrapped up in the end and the main plotline reaches a climax that to me needed some explaining afterward, which is not provided.