Customer Reviews

Spending: A Novel

5 star:		(33)
4 star:		(11)
3 star:		(9)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

The triumph of this book is not just that it makes one want to read everything Mary Gordon has written, but that it (hopefully) prompts the reader to discover more about art history, feminist art and women artists. As a feminist art historian, I read this book with avid interest and have since made it required reading for two of my college classes. Students respond to its frank discussion of female sexuality, copious references to art, fast pace and breezy, lyrical writing style. I admire Mary Gordon's firm grasp and detailed description of the artistic process, knowledge of feminist art history and criticism, willingness to discuss such challenging issues as censorship, protest and patronage and obvious and infectious love of art.

This was quite simply the most enjoyable book I've read in years. Don't judge this one by its cover - it's not erotica in the usual sense, but an exploration of art and life with the senses and the intellect. The unconventional narrator tosses off incredibly pithy, occasionally cynical observations on money, fashion, and sex in the provocative tradition of Wilde. Best of all is the insightful portrayal of the artistic process, written about painting but equally identifiable by anyone who writes, sculpts, composes, etc. and finds both pain and ecstasy, fear and pride, in the labor of creation. I highly recommend this novel as a thoroughly entertaining, exuberantly feminist* yarn.

*that need not be an oxymoron, folks

Monica Szabo is a 50 something artist looking for something. She finds something as B, responds to her question during a speech about where the male muses are. But B is much more than just her muse, he becomes her lover and her financial support at the same time.

Some really important questions are asked as we move through the book. For me, her attempts to rise above the fact that she was having sex with B and he was giving her money for her art and whether that made her a whore was one I gave a lot of thought to. Moreover, I think some really interesting takes on modern day feminism were explored.

The thing that made this book so compelling for me was that Monica is not a likeable character in the least. She's a horrible mother, she's selfish, she doesn't treat B very well most of the time and yet, you want to read more about her. Very few authors can suck you in that way.

I didn't see this book as a romance novel. Goodness knows I've read enough of them. There is no ease here, no real romance. Sex sure, but a lot of difficult exploration of personal stuff keeps it far from the harlequin romance descriptions I've seen in some other reviews. The real difficulty of balancing one's feminist preconceptions with the reality of sharing a life with someone else, especially when they are supporting you financially brings it to a completely different level.

No, the book isn't perfect but it is compelling and beautifully written. This is a rare and delicious treat.

As most group members know, it's easy to get distracted. This book provoked the most heated, on-task discussion my book group ever experienced. And what was so contraversial?

Some of our younger members (30 somethings) had a hard time with the idea of over age 50 romance. Our 50 somethings thought that it was about time the world acknowledged that post-menopausal women still enjoy sex.

Some of the group found the sex scenes too racey and others thought they were really boring -- the sex itself, not the writing thereof.

Our more politically correct members struggled with the idea of a woman being "kept" by a man in pursuit of her art. Others thought that it was about time that women artists had their own muses to provide support for them.

Probably the most contraversy revolved around the artwork itself - a series of male nudes painted in settings of the great paintings of Jesus. Our group covers a wide span of religious beliefs and there were some really passionate opinions on whether or not this was blasphemy.

I personally really enjoyed this book and enjoyed the discussion it provoked. I'd recommend it to individual readers and book groups who are tired of everyone agreeing on books.

Sex, art, religion, politics, music, parenting, economics, communication...this book deals with so many topics and weaves them ever so deftly into a very entertaining read. This was one of the best books I read last summer and decided to reread it this month. Not only did I enjoy the story of Monica and B and the other richly drawn characters, I appreciated how this book awakens the senses. Passages describe water condensation on a cobalt pitcher of ice water, the shading and depth of objects in a painting, the scent and texture of bath salts, the heft of an expensive knife as it slices into a juicy grapefruit, the hue of a new set of couches. And of course the many intricacies of sex, as experienced by Monica. If you are looking for a book to set the tone for a relaxed summer filled with appreciation of simple pleasures, this is definitely the one.

Mary Gordon, who distinguished herself with a splendid debut novel, Final Payments, in which a devoted daughter relinquished her youth to care for her ill father, now presents Monica, a heroine so cantankerous, self-absorbed, and acerbic that you want to shake her. Nonetheless, the dilemma at the core of Ms. Gordon's latest offering, the sometimes elusive yet always intelligent Spending, poses estimable inquiries into the male-female relationship, global responsibilities, and the value of art.

Consider this premise: Monica is fiftyish, divorced, a teacher, and the mother of two grown daughters, the pliant Sara, and the challenging Rachel, "with the dyed black buzz cut, the pierced eyebrow, the one at Brown doing postmodernist anthropological work on Latin America."

A moderately acclaimed artist, Monica finds inspiration in Renaissance master works of the deposed Christ and wants to create a series of paintings following this theme. Yet, despite her lofty aspirations, she is plagued by self-doubt, thinking,: "Sometimes the smallness of what I do shames me. I say to myself: the world needs people teaching poor children to read, dealing with disease in Africa, caring for the old and the homeless......It does not need new daubs on canvas."

Furthermore, time and money are problems. How could she pursue such a project?

Enter a collector of her work, a wealthy commodities broker she calls only B. He offers to underwrite all her expenses. Not only does he proffer a blank check, but he draws her bath, brings her goody laden picnic baskets from Balducci's, sates her with caviar at Petrossian, whisks her off for a week in Milan so that she might study Mantegna's "Dead Christ" in the Brera Gallery, poses for her, and is an unparalleled lover.

Now, some women might look heavenward in gratitude, considering B the deep pocketed knight in shining armor for whom they've prayed, but not Monica who ponders the idea of unexpected abundance: "I started trying to understand the idea of luxury. Something chosen beyond question of need. Something possessed for its own qualities, because you want it near you...." She also broods about whether or not she has prostituted herself since sex with B is involved.

Fiercely independent feminist that she is Monica alternately embraces and spurns the substance now available to her just as she vacillates between drawing B close to her and pushing him away. Much time is devoted to introspection as she attempts to reevaluate her life.

When B is stricken with a back ailment, prompting Monica to assume an unwanted role, as she puts it, Helen Hayes in "A Farewell To Arms," the story takes a sharp turn. Then B's fortune is lost. Positions flip-flop when her series receives raves from the critics and is castigated by the Christian Right. Monica is suddenly an unheard of success, and therein hangs much of the tale - will she offer B what he offered her? With Spending Mary Gordon has also taken a sharp turn, and executed it beautifully. Her heroine is no longer a repressed Catholic girl but a free-wheeling career woman. Ms. Gordon has also demonstrated that she can pen erotic passages with skill and bravado.

Yet, as in her previous novels, what shines through is the author's insight and intellect. It seems that very much like Monica Ms. Gordon can accomplish whatever she sets out to do, and we are the beneficiaries.

I enjoyed this novel more than any other recently, not simply because it has a moving story (which it does) but because it made me think. I felt like I was transported into an artist's mind, able to see with an artist's eye and it was an incredible experience. The fact that the artist is a smart, funny, critical, feminist woman made all the difference. I learned so much simply from "listening in" on her self-analysis. And Gordon's descriptions of works of art were luxerious, more sensual than the sex scenes.

I heard a radio interview of the author discussing her book "The Shadow Man" (purchased but haven't read yet) where the idea for "Spending" was also mentioned and couldn't stop wondering how the novel would unfold with a 50 yr old woman painter and her male muse. The book is surprisingly funny and uplifting! I laughed so much especially the section on the Charlie Rose interview that my husband decided he would read the book too. Unfortunately, he will need to wait because I already passed it on to one of my girlfriends. How refreshing to read a novel where the main woman character is post menopause yet sexy, intelligent, talented and is not abused nor abusive.

Like art? Like sex? Like strong women? Like Charlie Rose? They all come together in Mary Gordon's novel "Spending (A Utopian Divertimento)." Monica is a painter living in 1990's New York and Cape Cod who struggles with the artistic and human challenges facing us all: family, love, work, sex, and self expression. By happenstance, she meets B, a man who collects her work, and they spend the next three years together - he supporting and posing for her, she painting and supporting him. Having been a `poor' artist who teaches on the side to make a buck, she's not at all certain how she feels about B lavishing his fortune on her. Her feelings about money and the class system are at the heart of the story, but seem to get lost along the way as she acquires success and money of her own. By the end of the story, I wondered where the anti-capitalist artist had disappeared to.

Gordon writes about art and sex with a sure hand. Her descriptions of Monica's artistic process are so well-honed as to make the reader truly feel what it's like to create a work of art that will be seen (and judged) by others. Her depictions of Monica's and B's sex life are lively, thrilling, and vivid without being offensive. Especially humorous are the scenes involving her high-school nemesis, leading to her appearance on Charlie Rose's show.

The story has some twists and turns including one near the end when the financial tables are turned. However, the story seems to run out of steam and limps to not much of a conclusion. Be forewarned: if you're looking for action and a fast pace, this is not the book for you. Most of the story is told in summary, not scene, like a play which is primarily exposition, not action. That said, "Spending" is an enjoyable read about unique, well-drawn characters whose flaws and imperfections mirror our own.

Mary Gordon's book Spending was a pleasant surprise for me since I have never read a book that realistically maps the inner space of the painter's process. I am a 50ish painter who fits the profile of Monica except I left NYC in 1973. I been painting since I was 12, nearly 41 years but in those years women have won the right to pursue art beyond teaching and child rearing. My self indulgent creative process--the dance of food, sex, and painting--has never been so clearly represented in words. My circumstances are certainly different (this is a piece of fiction) but the struggle of inclusions and disinclusions, the mecurial insight into the subject that erupts at the most unexpected moment--total dispair, and the detachment from people as subjects of art was too real. The material distractions and yo-yo self esteem issues were based on surviving an era and culture that embedded residual guilt like a Y2K glitch waiting to rear it's ugly head at the most inopportune time. Certainly, I wondered how a writer could present a visual process with such clarity without painting herself.