Customer Reviews

Theft: A Love Story

5 star:		(18)
4 star:		(12)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

Peter Carey continues his theme of artistic fraud and deception that he wrote about in his last novel MY LIFE AS A FAKE in THEFT: A LOVE STORY, his latest tour de force. Michael (Butcher) Boone, a once successful Australian painter, is recently divorced and down and out when he meets the magical and beautiful Marlene Lieboviz, who is married to the son of he famous painter Jacques Liebovitz. What follows is a page-turner that is at once the account of a passionate obsession-- Michael and Marlene's-- familial loyalty-- Michael and his "damaged" brother Hugh's-- as well as a tale of intrigue that spans Australia, Japan, the United States and Germany.

Mr. Carey tells his story from the alternating viewpoints of Butcher and his brother Hugh in language that is dense, accurate and often beautiful beyond description. Anyone who has ever ridden in a New York cab will recognize this truth: "The taxis in New York are a total nightmare. I don't know how anybody tolerates them, and I am not complaining about the eviscerated seats, the s----- shock absorbers, the suicidal lefthand turns, but rather the common faith of all those Malaysian Sikhs, Bengali Hindus, Harlem Muslims, Lebanese Christians, Coney Island Russians, Brooklyn Jews, Buddhists, Zarathustrians-- who knows what?--all of them with rock-solid conviction that if you honk your bloody horn the sea will part before you." (p. 194.)Australian petty law enforcement types are described as "midgets of officialdom" who swarm "like a white-ant hatch." Finally Mr. Carey through the voice of Michael, piles paragraph upon paragraph, much as the artist applies layers of paint on his canvases, of beautiful descriptions of Marlene, often in terms of color as you would expect from a painter: "Her eyes. They were what is called baby blue, that is the precise colour of a baby's eyes before the melanin arrives and here was a pleasure even greater than her taut young skin, a clear view of her naked soul-- a deep kind of transparency without a single speck or flaw or smut."

Mr. Carey is one of a handful of writers whose next novel I eagerly await. To read him is to experience the sheer joy of language. After the horrific events of 9/11, Mr. Carey, who now lives in New York City, wrote an eloquent essay about both that city and the U. S. Can't we just claim him as one of our own?

Two-time Booker Prize winner Peter Carey writes his most dazzling novel yet, a send-up of the art world, filled with satire about dealers, auction houses, compulsive collectors, forgers, conservators and technicians, art researchers, catalogue writers, and even the artists themselves. At the same time, he also creates two splendid characters through whose limited vision this world is viewed--Michael "Butcher" Boone, a formerly successful Australian avant-garde artist, now experiencing hard times, and his "slow" brother Hugh, a 220-pound giant with little control over his emotions and a penchant for breaking the little fingers of annoying people.

Butcher, recently released from prison after trying to steal back his own paintings, which were declared "marital assets" during a nasty divorce, is now living in northern New South Wales, as caretaker for the property of his biggest collector. He is also the full-time caretaker of his brother, "Hugh the Poet and Hugh the Murderer, Hugh the Idiot Savant."

When Butcher rescues Marlene Leibovitz from her partially submerged car during a flood, the "chance" meeting has long-range consequences. Marlene is the wife of Olivier Leibovitz, son of Jacques Leibovitz, a world-class artist whose paintings are nearly priceless. She has the power to authenticate Leibovitz paintings (the "droit moral") and effectively controls the Liebovitz market as undocumented paintings surface. She has arrived to document the "Leibovitz" belonging to Butcher's next door neighbor, a painting which promptly disappears.

The involvement of Butcher in a complex scheme to defraud is told in alternating chapters by Butcher and Hugh, whose limited "take" on the characters and action leads to hilarious commentary, which is often more astute and realistic than that of his brother. Butcher, devoted to his artwork, and eventually to Marlene, is a brawling innocent, totally over his head in the international art circles in which he moves in Tokyo and New York, following a sellout show of his work arranged by Marlene. Butcher's narrative reveals his obvious ignorance of the details of the Leibovitz art fraud, increasing the irony and humor and developing suspense about Marlene's intentions.

When the increased financial stakes lead to murder, the complexity of the art fraud is revealed to the reader--and to Butcher. The final chapter, almost an Afterword, gives new meaning to the word "irony." Theft is brilliantly constructed, and in Butcher and Hugh, Carey creates two characters the reader cares about. The art world and its rarified atmosphere are subjected to Carey's rapier wit, and the humor and satire are non-stop. Well known for his word play and sense of the absurd, Carey has outdone himself with this novel, a continuation of the themes he began in My Life as a Fake--and a new comic masterpiece. n Mary Whipple

The story is told in alternating chapters by two brothers - renown artist Michael Boone (aka 'Butcher Bones') and his idiot-savante brother, Hugh ('Slow Bones').

Recently released from prison where he was sent for trying to steal his own paintings from his ex-wife (and here is where the alimony whore comes in) he is installed in a country house by his 'sponsor' and begins to make some of the best art of his life. Across huge canvasses he splashes fire and brimstone texts remembered from his violent and abusive childhood, the full scale of which only gradually becomes apparent.

And then one stormy night there walks into his life (in her Manolo Blahniks - important detail) a beautiful young woman who claims to have lost her way. Marlene is the wife of Oliver Leibovitz, son of one of the greatest artists of the century. She's also an accomplised art thief and con-woman. Both brothers fall in love with her ... which fits into her plans just nicely. And thus begins a rollicking tale of art theft and deception which moves from Australia to New York via Tokyo.

Love-story, thriller, comedy ... the novel is all of these. But the greatest strength of the novel is the depiction of the complicated love-hate relationship between the brothers. The interplay of voices is excellent, and the way the two accounts give sometimes contradictory views of events, the "truth" of things falling somewhere between them. Hugh may not be the full shilling, but he is certainly astute and in many ways sees the world more clearly than his brother. I love the way his talk is peppered with phrases picked up from everyone else and is full of malapropisms.

The research for the book seems authoratitive - I knew little beforehand about how the art world works, or how artists feel about their work becoming an item of commerce, or how painting might be forged ... and certainly now I feel interested to learn more.

I love the energy and drive of the writing. One reviewer described the prose as "muscular" and I like that. But the language has a rugged poetry too, particularly during when describing the artist working. We can see the finished canvases and know why they are so brilliant, through the words.

Theft reminds me of a couple of other novels I've enjoyed: Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men (the episode of the dead puppy, Hugh's capacity for sudden violence and the murder at the end - I'm certain this is a reference Carey means us to pick up!), and Headlong by Michael Frayn (also about shady dealings in the art world and very funny). And then of course Carey's there are echoes earlier novels, particularly My Life as a Fake which also tackled the theme of forgery, and True History of the Kelly Gang in the way that Carey recreates the voice of Ned Kelly so brilliantly. And there's Carey's siding all the way with the rascal, the fraudster, the thief, and making us love him too.

Peter Carey is a truly original writer with a wonderful capacity to bring a new and unique perspective to his story telling (Ned Kelly, Oscar and Lucinda etc). He seems to use his subject matter to explore his Australian background and the place of the country in the world, but in a manner that should not alienate readers from other parts of the world. It has been noted that Theft includes a thinly veiled reference to his marital woes. It was refreshing to hear the idiomatic speech of the characters.

I personally preferred The Kelly Gang, but this is an excellent book that is well researched and written. My only quibble is that they are more likely to play rugby (First XIII (League) or XV (Union)) than Australian Rules Football (First XVIII) in Bellingen.

Peter Carey is a writer I respect a lot. I think he has class and a real talent to put together great stories. Because he is so high in the ranks for me, I may be harsher with this review than with others - because "Theft" is a very good novel, showing true mastery of words, but it is not flawless.

The storyline itself is very simple; banal even, but although predictable, it is engrossing, in a sense: what kept me interested was not the anticipation of an unexpected turn of events, but rather curiosity, how the author would detangle the plot towards the end. The whole point of the plot is revealed in the title, and the details at the very beginning, so there is no waiting for the climax. Therefore, no sleepless nights for this one... The prose is very dense and not easy, characteristic for Carey, but I recommend patience because, all in all, this novel is worth reading.

An intriguing woman, Marlene Leibovitz, appears once at the doorstep of the mansion, where an impoverished, forgotten painter, Michael Boone, is allowed to live with his not the smartest brother Hugh (who not without reason earned himself the nickname "Slow Bones") in exchange for being a caretaker. Both brothers fall in love with Marlene as she involves them in her giant theft scheme. Marlene needs Michael, because the object of the grand theft is a painting by her late father-in-law, an enormously famous painter... The action moves in a brisk pace from Australia through Japan to New York City (the latter being the only place, where Hugh does not get lost because of the grid and he loves it).

Reading "Theft" I could not avoid comparisons with "Oscar and Lucinda", the first of Carey's novels I read, which is amazing, in my opinion. The two fundamental differences are: the style of narration - here two alternating, first-person narrators (both brothers) present their stories from the inside of the plot; in "Oscar and Lucinda" there is an omniscient, third person narrator; and the anticlimactic plot - both the love story and the theft story have easy to imagine outcomes; "Oscar and Lucinda" was phenomenally surprising (and the ending was worth the wait). There are also similarities: very original main characters (although Oscar and Lucinda are the unbeatable pair, Michael and Hugh are very good too, painfully real and at the same time as far from typical as only possible, living their own lives with strong personal philosophies), and the obsessive passion for - there it was gambling, here art. I feel that Carey likes the obsession motif, always very promising, and he gives it an interesting angle. The multi-level schemes, which also appear in both novels, cheating and cheating the cheaters, are fun too.

I found the ending (despite not expecting much of it) a bit of a disappointment, I felt that the idea somehow got diluted. I hated Marlene, her character was extremely irritating and obnoxious (maybe this was intended; or maybe male readers would find her as charming as Michael Boone did). I loved the narration, I like when the novel is shown from different points of view complement each other.

"Theft" gets four stars from me, because I know that Carey can do better and I expect him to. But it is a good, original novel.

In robust, antic prose which embodies the characters of his two narrators, Australian author Carey (winner of the Booker Prize for "Oscar and Lucinda" and "True History of the Kelly Gang") recounts a tale of two brothers, a girl and a valuable painting.

The brothers are Michael "Butcher" Boone (nicknamed for his father's family business), a once famous and fashionable painter now down on his luck, and his big, brain-damaged brother Hugh, a man subject to passions even less comprehensible than Butcher's. Since the death of their parents, Butcher is Hugh's caretaker.

"Sometimes he was so bloody smart, so coherent, at other times a wailing gibbering fool. Sometimes he adored me, loudly, passionately, like a whiskery bad-breathed child. But the next day or the next minute I would be the Leader of the Opposition and he would lay in wait amongst the wild lantana, pounce, wrestle me violently into the mud, or the river, or across the engorged, wet-season zucchini."

Butcher and Hugh are in exile at a country estate lent by the painter's biggest collector. Butcher has just been released from prison after a bad divorce (he tried to rescue his paintings from the state of "marital assets") and reversal of fortune. This is his chance to regain his strength and paint, unencumbered by the distractions of the world - other than Hugh. And paint he does in manic scenes reminiscent of Irish writer Joyce Cary's Gulley Jimson at work on his masterpiece at another rich man's unwitting expense.

But the world's distractions come to him in the person of Marlene, a slender young woman stranded in her Manolo Blahniks by a torrential storm. She quickly charms Hugh: "And there she was - a type - one of those rare, often unlucky people who `get on with Hugh.'" Butcher is equally charmed, or at least intrigued, especially when it turns out Marlene is the daughter-in-law of Jacques Leibovitz, the painter who inspired Butcher's own career. Turns out Butcher's neighbor owns a particularly valuable Leibovitz and Marlene has come to authenticate it. Or something.

Three weeks later the "art police" show up at Butcher's studio, accusing him of having stolen the famous painting from his neighbor. Outraged when the police confiscate his new work to x-ray it in their search for the missing painting, he abandons his new studio and country retreat, returning to civilization to pursue his paintings, his career and eventually Marlene, with reckless abandon.

The novel accelerates from Australia to Japan to New York as Carey breathes new life into the old saw "blind ambition." Butcher tricks Hugh into a home so he can have a show in Japan and ride his wave of success on to New York. But he can't quite abandon his brother and Hugh finds himself in New York where he impulsively rescues himself from Butcher's increasingly chaotic life, taking up with Marlene's now former husband, Olivier, the gentle son of Jacques Leibovitz.

Hugh, however, has his own brand of guileless shrewdness. Olivier is tormented by love for the treacherous Marlene, who uses him shamelessly.

"When he began to cry at breakfast I knew I had chosen the losing side, forgive me, bless me, I wish I was a nicer man. I tried to return to Butcher but he would not answer the bell."

The reader's sympathies will lie more with Hugh than his tormented, mostly well-meaning, but fairly venal brother. Hugh is the foil, the innocent voice of reason who often gets things wrong. He's also extremely difficult and one can hardly blame his brother for wriggling out from under from time to time.

Hilarity and darkness coexist on every volatile page as Carey beautifully delineates their complex story of brotherly love while producing a wild caper and a slick send-up of the high-end art world. A terrific novel - one of his best.

--Portsmouth Herald

I thoroughly enjoyed this book, although in the beginning I found the voice of "Slow Bones" to be a bit hard to slog through. But once I became accustomed to the rhythm of his sections of the book, they became both lovely and illuminating. This is the story of a "once-famous" artist whose life is now pretty much in the toilet. It is narrated alternatively by Butcher Bones, the artist, and his "challenged" brother, Slow Bones. The book is called a "love story", and indeed there is a reasonably standard love affair - I don't want to give away the non-standard aspects as they are delightful surprises in the book. But there is also a very tender second love story: that of Buther and Slow (Michael and Hugh). It is Michael's love for his brother that is the basis for so much of what occurs or doesn't occur in the story, as the case may be. The characters are superbly well drawn, and the writing is both hilarious and luminous - sometimes in the same passage. And for anyone who has ever lived in or vistied NYC - Carey's description of taxi drivers will have you LOL.

The more I read of Peter Carey, the better I like him. I found "Oscar and Lucinda" tough sledding. "My life as a Fake" explored some interesting ideas, but wasn't altogether successful, in my opinion. In "Theft", Carey revisits some of the themes which clearly continue to interest him - Australian art and literature, and how they are perceived both within and outside Australia. "My Life as a Fake" dealt with literature and made obvious reference to the infamous "Ern Malley" literary hoax of the 1940's. In "Theft", Carey considers the issue of fakery in the art world, in a story that shifts between Australia, Tokyo, and the art world of Manhattan in the 1980's.

"My Life as a Fake" didn't soar as one might have wished - in part because Carey sometimes bogged down in the complexities of an overly laden plot, and in part because it was hard for the reader (at least this reader) to share his fascination with the repercussions of the Ern Malley episode on Australian literature. In "Theft", he is far more sure-footed, and though the plot is also quite convoluted, he develops the story in a compulsively readable fashion. The reader is swept along by the story, the brilliantly drawn, idiosyncratic characters, and by Carey's wonderful language right up to the jarring (and absolutely brilliant) conclusion.

The book reminded me of the recent film bombon (I mean that as a compliment), the wonderful "Duplicity", with Julia Roberts and Clive Owen, which also kept the viewer guessing throughout, but which the director and actors pulled off with tremendous style and humor. It was hugely entertaining, without ever condescending to the viewer.

"Theft" has that same lighthearted verve, and Carey's terrific writing and obvious love of language made it a joy to read. On the cover blurb of my copy, Ali Smith calls it "a funny, gorgeous steal of a book", and I agree completely.

Five stars.

I have no doubt that there is a group of people out there who love "Theft". (In fact, the friend who loaned it to me raved about it.) These are probably the same people who can readily appreciate the genius and vision in Jackson Pollack's paintings. I am not one of these people, however, and I found "Theft" to be plodding, artless, mostly uninteresting (save perhaps the last 50 pages), and just plain pointless.

My chief complaint with the book is that there's very little plot. What plot there is (beginning with Marlene's second appearance and the trips to Japan and New York) would have been better served in the form of a short story. The first 125 or so pages are almost unreadably tedious. I nearly gave up on multiple occasions, and would have had I not felt some obligation to the friend who loaned it to me.

I also found the characters to be thoroughly unlikable. The only character I had a modicum of fondness for was Oliver (oddly!), and maybe a touch for Hugh as well by the end. But Carey seemed to go out of his way to make them a remarkably off-putting, crude, and offensive bunch. Why on earth would Carey expect me to care at all about these people? I have no idea.

In summary, "Theft" is not worth the effort. It's not rewarding or interesting, and it doesn't make any notable or unique contribution to literature.

Peter Carey, one of only two people to have won the Booker Prize twice can clearly write. "Theft," even with some of its glaring faults demonstrates Carey's ability to create interesting voices and narratives that instantly entertain and provide unique perspectives on whatever world he chooses to have them inhabit. In this instance, we are given Michael "Butcher" Bones and his half-retarded brother Hugh. Butcher is a painter who was once the darling of the Australian art world, only to have himself fall from grace and be forced to live as a caretaker to the home of his most adoring patron. What ensues, as the title alludes to, is a story surorunding the theft of a masterpiece by his painting idol, which is initially pinned upon him. The story follows Butcher's attempt to reclaim his place amongst the artistic elite and deal with the theft.

What makes the story so great is what also makes the story clunky. Carey alternates between Butcher's and Hugh's voices, one full of bitterness, the other a mixture of poor, but comprehensible sentence structure with striking moments of clarity. The way the two viewpoints are weaved together provided two viewpoints of different events and gives us a more whole view of the Bones family. The way Carey plays with language in Hugh's voice is wonderful, but at times the two voices start to sound similar. Whether he notices it or not, other than the capitalized words and phrases in Hugh's dialogue, there are often times when the voices are almost indistinguishable. One could argue this is a result of Butcher's emotional rollercoaster ride, especially in regards to his love interest Marlene, who is also thought to be involved with the theft, but I would argue that Carey simply did not notice as both characters are meant to have a certain biting nature to their personalities that interferes with their individuality.

Carey's description of the art world and the counterfeitting market is great and is done almost seemlessly with the narrative. But something simply seems to be missing. I can't put my finger on it, but even while reading the text, I kept saying to myself the prose is beautiful, the story is tight, but something isn't right. When you read some of Carey's previous work (esp. The True History of the Kelly Gang), some of the recent McEwan, and even Zadie Smith, you can't help but keep saying "Wow" as you see how successful a writer can be even when trying to provide copious amounts of information necessary to understand the way a particular world functions, even without noticing it happen. MAybe that's the problem - Carey seems to digress at times when providing backstory to the point where you just want to skip through it.

Overall, this is a solid read, but again, his previous work is much stronger.