1999: An island off the southern coast of Greece. Art historian Elizabeth Clarke arrives with the intent to acquire a rare female sculpture. But what begins as a quest for a highly valued cultural artefact evolves into a trip that will force Elizabeth to contend with her ambition, her desire, and her troubling history.
Disorientated by jet lag, debilitating migraines and a dependence on prescription pills, Elizabeth finds herself enthralled by her new surroundings – and, equally, by her translator’s inscrutable wife, a young artist named Theo.
As the nude’s acquisition proves to be riskier than she could have ever imagined, the fates of Elizabeth and the sculpture are called into question. To find a way out, Elizabeth must grapple with the role she’s played in the global art trade and the ethical fallouts her personal and professional decisions could leave behind.
The Nude is an evocative and intense exploration of art and cultural theft, combining the moody atmosphere of Katie Kitamura’s A Separation and the complex gender dynamics of Lisa Taddeo’s Animal with the sensual exploration of female desire of Deborah Levy's Hot Milk. Your next summer obsession!
“The Nude" is a remarkable debut, a slow-burn page-turner that turns a sweltering Greek island into a haunting house of mirrors. C. Michelle Lindley would have made Patricia Highsmith and Graham Greene proud.
There's much material here that interests me: the business of museum antiquities acquisition and the capitalist commodification of art objects; issues of cultural appropriation and repatriation; representations of gender and sexuality; the organizing scheme of a kind of modern The Magus where actions are endowed with psychological and philosophical import - and yet the whole thing didn't quite come together for me.
Partly it's the slow pace that doesn't gather the kind of momentum I wanted; partly it's the rather overdone figure of Elizabeth with her repressive self as a result of past trauma playing out in a hysterical kind of autophagy. I think, ultimately, the issue for me is that I just don't believe any of this: not the characters, not their interactions, not the game-playing - it feels stylized rather than authentic but not sufficiently so to make that part of the agenda.
Nevertheless, Lindley has brought together some interesting elements, enough for me to check out what she does next. 2.5 stars rounded up to 3.
this felt like an unhinged pretentious fever dream, in the best possible way. 💛
the vibes reminded me a lot of some of my very favorite books: the secret history by donna tartt, american psycho by bret easton ellis, the bell jar by sylvia plath, and animals by emma jane unsworth. the writing style of this novel is not going to be for everybody, but there are many beautiful quotes throughout.
I will definitely try getting my hands on a physical copy of this book for future rereads, because I feel like this story could mean different things for you at different points of life and I am sure that there was lots of symbolism that I missed upon my first read.
beautiful. messy. real.
thank you, net galley, for allowing me to read a digital copy in exchange for my honest review.
The mood is this novel is powerfully established from the start: An overwhelming sense of imminent disaster, beautifully interwoven with an intense portrait of the small Greek island where the story is set, including its very food, animals, spills, and smells. The narrator, Elizabeth Clarke, an assistant museum curator specializing in ancient Greek artifacts, has arrived on the island to inspect an unusual statue that has too-conveniently washed ashore--which, if it's authenticated, could ensure her promotion in a toxic workplace of sexual harassment.
Add to that fraught mix hints of Elizabeth's troubled past, sexual abuse by her stepfather, the loss of a beloved sister, overreliance on prescription pills, guilt, and the seductive allure of a young Greek couple.
With the vivid writing and page-turning tension, why don't I rate the novel higher? Because the plot relies too much on hard-to-believe lapses by Elizabeth.
She is supposedly dedicated to her work and desperate for the promotion. Yet she keeps delaying obvious and important actions, such as looking at crucial photographs, checking in with her boss, and ensuring basic security for the statue, even after a serious breach at the gallery where it's being stored. I understand that Elizabeth undercuts herself by her bed-hopping and pill-popping, and suffers from (literally) blinding migraines. But we're also supposed to believe that she's pulled herself up in a cutthroat career by her savvy, determination, and strength.
For me, the mix didn't gell. Perhaps the problem is that there was too much self-destruction and gloom from the start, rather than building over time.
Still, this is a beautifully written and impressively researched novel. If you're willing to suspend your disbelief, you can immerse yourself and all of your senses in the island.
I felt sooo pretentious reading this I loved it. The true definition of Literary Fiction. I love a novel where I feel like I’m learning things and this was a really fascinating exploration of the ethics of the antiquities business and the dark history of museums. I also love a book about obsession between women, especially when that obsession is kinda gay, so I obviously loved the relationship between Elizabeth and Theo. So sexy and messy. This was so beautifully written I honestly can’t believe it’s a debut. Loved it.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC!
In 1999, historian and curator Elizabeth Clarke was dispatched to an unnamed Greek island to inspect and hopefully secure a statue of a nude woman. It’s been recently plucked out of the sea and is potentially a major acquisition. If it’s authenticity can be confirmed and a deal can be done, that is.
We learn that Elizabeth is an ambitious woman and that a potential promotion has been dangled by her boss if everything works out. We are also made aware that she’s had a difficult time with previous personal relationships. She’s soon introduced to an interpreter who has been hired for her, called Niko, and also Theo, his wife. They’re an attractive and interesting pair. Will Elizabeth form a relationship with one or the other, or even both? It’s possible, but certainly not a given.
Another factor here is that there is some resistance to the thought that the statue may be removed from what local people consider to be it’s historic home. The debate around whether it’s acceptable to remove artifacts that have symbolic and cultural roots, despite the claimed rationale that it is to allow them to be viewed by a much wider audience, is to be a constant shadow in the background.
It’s an atmospheric story, and though Elizabeth isn’t the most engaging presence, I did find sufficient intrigue here to retain my attention. I also enjoyed the descriptions of this sunny place - I’ve visited a number of Greek islands, and the portrayal here is certainly in accord with my own experiences. The addition of a few shady characters – including a fellow employee of the museum – also adds some spice to proceedings.
I enjoyed the book’s literary style and also the sense of ambiguity that surrounds just about every relationship here. It’s an enjoyable read that kept me entertained and interested throughout.
My thanks to VERVE books for supplying a copy of this book via NetGalley in return for an honest review.
A little slow for me, a little weird. Definitely readable, just parts of it are not really believable. A drug salad high with a few drops of crazy mixed in for flavor. Strangely enough, it keeps you reading with an almost mystical allure and a need to finish. Interesting locations and topics, just not a good match for my taste.
<-- The Fine Print --> *This book was won in a contest. All opinions stated here are my own and I didn't receive any compensation for my stated opinions. Thank you to the author, the publisher and Goodreads for this contest.*
The Nude is a deep dive into an art appraisers life when she is sent to Greece to procure a desired piece. You get dragged through the depravity, destruction, debauchery and downfall of the main character Elizabeth's life. Clawing and biting anyone in her path as she tries to get herself out of the hole she and life dug for her. The Nude shows life in perspective. Our desperate need for control through the fallacy of hierarchy, ownership and power. We all want the piece of the pie no matter the consequence. Tainting that which we covet making it dark and ugly through our actions.
I supremely enjoyed this novel. It was wonderfully written showing the dark side of us all with the backdrop of a beautiful island. If I were to do story math, I would get vibes of Vickie, Christina, Barcelona and The Talented Mr. Ripley. The story plot is not the same to these but you get that feeling in your gut and fall for the visuals. A group of characters that are damaged and unlikeable but like any train wreck, you have to look and see the carnage.
I love a slightly insufferable female main character that slowly loses her mind throughout the story then at the end gets a little bit of redemption with a side of homoerotic female friendships along the way. This book serves that purpose and the setting is gorgeous.
I’m always interested in books that spotlight my own primary profession (for better or for worse. Mostly worse, in this case), but that also makes it easier as a reader and reviewer to spot the flaws, of which this book has many.
“Who owns the art?” and other questions of cultural right of return is a very trendy topic in fiction right now and unfortunately, like most books that try to tackle it, this is a well-meaning but badly oversimplified portrayal of the situation. And it’s tough to listen to a lot of what feels like performative moralizing about a statue from the protagonist while she’s at the same time potentially breaking up a marriage and badly damaging her own mental health with drug use.
I don’t believe this person is capable of holding down this job or would ever have been trusted to attempt to make an acquisition like this (delicate and waaay up the chain on who’s involved even under the best of circumstances), which is just one of the many elements of this story that strains credulity, and not in that fun “wow, this is wild” kind of way.
But in the end, the whole package just never comes together into any kind of cohesive whole despite the really clear attempts to marry Elizabeth’s damaged emotional state to some kind of pathetic fallacy of the statue. And frankly, the whole thing—Elizabeth most of all—is just not very likable.
There are loads of good books out there that touch on this theme. You can skip this one.
*I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.*
The Nude is C. Michelle Lindley’s disorienting and captivating debut novel. Set on a Greek island, Elizabeth is sent to secure the sale of an artifact for her museum. Although, it seems fishy from the jump. What befalls her is the unraveling of herself and a clear knowledge that not everything is as it seems. This is literary fiction at its finest whilst evoking a sour feeling amongst its reader as you try to determine where it will go.
Grappling with reality, she loses her mind and succumbs to the allure of all around her. Feels inexplicably like a fever dream or migraine haze. I can’t say there’s a single likable character, but that adds to the power of the read.
tldr; i’m always a fan of a pretentious story where the woman slowly loses her mind
Thank you to the author and publisher for providing an advanced copy through Netgalley.
There is so much to love here: the protagonist is an art historian, the book raises salient questions about the provenance and ownership of art in addition to the creation of art, it transports you to Greece, it is very much concerned with memory and how past trauma influences our present lives. The writing is beautiful, and it's similar to both Highsmith's novels and Kitamura's "A Separation."
The characters, though...i felt like I was in Greece observing them through an opaque lens. I just didn't like them very much; they felt so removed and distant, even though they were interesting.
Thank you to Atria Books and Goodreads for this ARC giveaways copy!
The year is 1999, and Elizabeth Clarke has arrived on a small Greek island to oversee the curation of a significant ancient nude sculpture. This acquisition could make or break Elizabeth’s career—namely her impending, long-desired promotion—but there are forces at work on the island, determined to ensure that another priceless piece of history doesn’t leave Greece’s shores.
Here, in their debut, author C. Michelle Lindley has infused all of the intoxicating Italian atmosphere of The Talented Mr. Ripley and Call Me By Your Name, topped off with my the art symbolism that worked so well in Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch. This is another can’t-stand-it-but-can’t-look-away entry in the drugged and depressed female character canon, alongside Ottessa Moshfegh and Emma Cline’s recent work, The Guest. Throughout, the question is posed: is anything about the curation of ancient art, specifically those pieces bought by and displayed in different countries from which they were found, ethical?
I weirdly really enjoyed this book, which I was surprised by, given it is so outside of my usual wheelhouse.
The premise was everything I could want in a book and yet this was a big DNF. The writing style was so dull, nothing about this was gripping, it felt like reading a grocery list. Big yikes.
I've mulled it over and as much as a two star rating always feels a little cruel to give, unfortunately this is a textbook two star book for me. When push comes to shove, I didn't like it nor would I really recommend it to anyone else and for me, that's two-star material. My biggest gripe with the book overall wasn't any of the plot points/details themselves–on paper this book is my perfect cup of tea–but rather that it felt like the author was trying to do too much in one short book. I had absolutely no idea what to focus on and I flipped the final page feeling confused more than anything else.
Was The Nude a mysterious, chaotic unravelling of an overworked and overmedicated woman trying to do her best at a job that expects the worst from her?
Was it a treatise on the state of art acquisition and the way that greed and ambition steals from everyone involved, both the people whose countries created the art and those who sacrifice their morals to sell it?
Was it about a girl who had both witnessed and experienced so much abuse by the men in her life that she's willing to sacrifice everything just to make that past feel like it meant something?
Was this a sensual and atmospheric story of obsession and desire with sapphic undertones of self discovery?
The answer is: it was trying so hard to be everything that it ended up being nothing. Elizabeth's constant looming migraines and references to her medication only really served to make her nervous and her storytelling slightly unreliable. The art-theft aspect was really interesting and appropriate for the contemporary conversations that countries are having about returning art to its rightful home, but it never felt like Elizabeth herself had that much of a stake in the ethics of what she was doing. It seemed to make her slightly uncomfortable, but you got the feeling throughout the narrative that she didn't really care how she got what she wanted out of the art world, only that she got recognition for playing her part well.
Her relationship with Theo kept being floated as this sort of side-plot infatuation that never really amounted to anything except a sense of ~sensuality~ that never really went anywhere? She had more chemistry with the statue she was there to buy than Theo and I didn't really get why we were spending so much time with the translator and his wife. As a person that is 10x more likely to pick up a book when it's billed as having ~sapphic intrigue~ I was, admittedly, very let down. (and no, the reveal in the final chapter didn't make up for anything, I had guessed that from the jump anyway.)
There were just SO MANY subplots that left me going huh? and not in a good way. Like what was that whole scene with the taxi driver and his family and the goat? an excuse for Elizabeth to finally reveal what happened to her sister? I read the whole book and I still don't understand why the sister was relevant to anything, except maybe a reason why she got hooked on so many psychotic drugs/started having migraines. The blackout scene with Leon? I could really go on and on.
Overall, if you're looking for a sexy summer read to immerse yourself in the feelings of a Greek island or the next selection in your ~unsettled, professional woman starts spiraling~ reading list there are better books out there. (10/10 cover though)
The beautiful, idyllic setting of Greece in 1999 was not enough to compel me to finish a novel in which surface level characters have repetitive, vapid conversations (with nothing to do about the supposed plot of the novel) on an endless loop. Maybe more about the statue comes into play eventually, but by page 70 more random characters that walked around with sticks up their bums were consistently being introduced as Elizabeth fumbled to understand the nuances of everyone around her. My eyes consistently drifted from the page every two sentences so I'm just deeming this one not worth my time.
SET ON A SULTRY GREEK ISLAND, THE NUDE IS A SEDUCTIVE DEBUT ABOUT ART, CULTURAL THEFT AND FEMALE DESIRE
The Nude is not about cultural theft. It's barely about art, and also not entirely about female desire. It's actually mostly about trauma and self-harm, with a bit of sexism on the side.
The writing is uneven; at times so delicately capturing the human experience ("Grief isn't only about loss. It's also about which parts of a person you are forced to keep"), at others simply awkward ("my brain manifested a shareable thought", "anything longer would distress my already fragile circadian rythym") or riddled with unnecessarily difficult words ("his eyes yoked mine", "some hazy, aspatial establishment", "unlit votive candles").
The descriptions of food and art made me want to hop on a flight to Greece immediately, or at least drop by the nearest museum. The dailogue, however, was often nonsensical. There's one scene, a dinner conversation about the distructive behaviors of Western museums, that's meant to come off as intellectual but is actually completely void of meaning, just a bunch of artsy-sounding non sequiturs
Elizabeth Clarke herself is a pretty unlikeable woman, but incredibly self-aware, which made her obviously distructive behavior less frustrating to read through. As the story progressed her past came to light, and her character began to make sense to me, which is when I realized this book had nothing to do with art and everything to do with trauma and self harm. In that respect, Elizabeth did go through an emotional process from start to end, and the story wrapped up well.
|| THE NUDE || ✍🏻 What was the last book you bought based on the cover alone?
It's 1999, Elizabeth an Art Historian goes to Greece in order to aquire a found rare female sculpture the museum she works for in the U.S is looking to purchase. But Elizabeth is a drift in grief that she has been carrying and medicating for for years. On the outside she looks like the epitome of togetherness, in how she carrys herself, her thinness, the pencil skirts and blouses, utterly in control but on the inside she's a mess. Over her short time in Greece everything begins to spins out of control. The sculpture has a hold over her, she becomes entangled in her translators marriage, drawn to his sensual wife, she's over medicating, migraines are worse than ever, she is haunted by the death of her sister, trying to elevate her career in a male dominated world, there is political uprising in Greece, and her impending divorce. Something's got to give...
I whipped through this book. It was slowly seductive and lured me right in! I had to see how Elizabeth's story would end. There was this pulling mystery and intrigue with the sculpture, and the couple she became involved with that I couldn't look away from. I loved the art and ethics exploration, mixed with female seduction and the patriarchy, hot sweltering summer, Greek Island, messy main character vibes. It all worked so well together. It's starts off slow but builds and by the last 100 pages it was so thrilling as everything unfolded.
I REALLY wanted to like this book. It has a lot of things going for it - an Art History degree on the page and behind it themes of femininity and feminism and how they intertwine themes of a loss of sense of self for various reasons / how we see ourselves vs how we are seen by others
But this read was a slog and the main character was insufferable. I was prepared for a slow burn but not a glacier. By the time we got to the end nothing was going to make all of that dragging feel worth it. It was obvious there was meant to be this tension building, but it just didn't hit that level for me. I can slow burn if the burn arrives at some point, but this one didn't.
I also wasn't ready for an amazingly self-obsessed and arrogant but equally insecure character. She never gains an insight about herself, but I also don't think we are supposed to find her unlikable. She never crescendos into a villain or wrath, and this isn't a slice of life book. I could never gel the character into a satisfying existence. I don't need to like a character to like a book, and I don't need characters to be damned or redeemed to like a book. Something was missing here.
The saving grace of this book is the prose itself. The sentences and imagery are usually strong! The pacing was off, the development not quite what I needed, but there IS a foundation here. Despite all of the things I've said above that would lead to belief to the contrary, I would read this author's next book and I hope she keeps writing.
Though it’s much slower-paced than I’m used to, it earned ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ from me! The story takes you to Greece, where a troubled art historian finds herself in the middle of a statue acquisition. Grappling with her past, an active divorce, and the ethics and sexism of her industry, Elizabeth becomes enthralled with the statue and her translator’s wife.
Existing in Elizabeth’s mind made me feel like a pretentious art enthusiast who understood art on a deeper level than most, which I realistically do not, but it also made me curious about the acquisition processes of antiquities. How ethical is it to acquire a relic from another country for the sake of preservation? And who does that preservation benefit?
The novel covers these ethics, the concept of beauty and sexuality, and childhood trauma.
For me, this novel exhibits what literary fiction is meant to be. The Nude is original and unlike anything I’ve read before, something I always crave in a book and have more appreciation for in recently published works.
This novel is a refreshing read that explores the dichotomy between the protagonist’s moral standings and her personal ambitions.
The setting’s serene landscape contrasts with its political unrest, the characters are flawed, and the writing is carefully crafted.
Add the beautiful cover and this checks off all the boxes in fiction for me.
(This book also makes me ask myself why don’t I use words like rudimentary, beleaguered and disembark more in my vocabulary?)
A lot of potential but disappointingly dull. I thought surely the last half would pick up but the story droned on. Usually I like this kind of book but I couldn't connect with any of the characters. I did like the setting of the book at least. Makes me want to go to Greece again.
Queer rep: no labels, but a few moments of lesbian and bisexual desires and interactions — Note: the following is voice to text and still needs to be edited — I didn’t like this book. It is mostly above and over my head. Definitely something I struggled to visualize while listening to it. There were too many moments where I felt lost or confused by the language the author chose to use to describe scenes. I give it two stars because there are some moments that I recall as being interesting and good. A lot of it felt obvious, like what happened to the statues head, but some of it didn’t. I was constantly rooting for the two women to end the book together, so I was disappointed when they didn’t. I also didn’t like how much this book made me think of my own biological mom. The way that the author describes viewing herself as a woman in a world of men. A woman trying to gain power over men. And how using her body was one of the only ways to do so. She gave herself up so casually and easily, without much for thought or regret or shame. It made me uncomfortable, and slightly angry, that is what her mindset was. But also, I had to remember the time period. As much as I hated it, it made me think about my own mom and her personal experience is climbing her career. All the men that I was introduced to, and those I never was. It made me feel sad and slightly empathetic for her.
In the end, though, I didn’t like this book. I kept waiting for it to get better or more interesting or just easier to follow, but it never did. I’m sure this book is for someone, it’s just not for me.
A fine book, but something about it never quite clicked for me. I liked the characters, the writing, all of it was good but something about it just didn't work in my head. Your mileage may vary.
The Nude follows the mental breakdown of the main character, Elizabeth, as she comes to grips with past trauma and its ramifications on her inner life. The character study fascinated me.
Elizabeth is remarkably self-aware, and her commentary on her own flaws is striking. She understands what past actions shaped issues of today, and she understands how those issues are damaging, but she suffers from the very real problem of being unable to change her core motivation of seeking approval and power. She is keenly perceptive of others’ body language and recognizes how her own distance and shielding will come off, but she can’t allow someone to get close enough to see the real her. The slow unraveling of her past and the way Lindley tied it to Elizabeth’s current psyche was phenomenal.
The story explores themes of beauty, ambition, power, control, and sexual currency that Elizabeth wields over others for some kind of chess-board advantage. Eventually, her exploration of her sexuality devoid of power games is the vehicle by which she begins to change.
The story felt slow and meandering at times, but the lovely prose and exquisite subject matter of the art and Greek setting outweighed any pacing issues for me. Plus, it explored important issues in the art world about provenance of artifacts and cultural appropriation as seen through our power-grabbing, pill-addicted heroine. Overall, it was absolutely unhinged and fantastic fun.
Thank you NetGalley and Atria for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
This is a slow burn story about art and curation, love and sexuality, motherhood, grief and loss - all set in beautiful Greece. I’d put this in my category of, Weird Little Books. We follow Elizabeth - an art historian who is about to make the biggest sale of her career in Greece. From there, she meets a cast of untrustworthy and strange characters whilst dealing with her own issues and trauma. A bizarre Greek Easter party, a mutilated statue, a woman named Theo that is really sexy and scary, -I imagined her looking like Cleopatra, idk- a wayward condom, a bee eating child. And if this doesn’t make you intrigued… I have no idea what will. I really enjoyed this one. What a fascinating and beautiful debut!
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher who provided me with an ebook copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All of these thoughts and opinions are my own.
I read C. Michelle Lindley’s novel of cultural appropriation, “The Nude,” with admiration tempered with irritation. Admiration because the writing is superb – “each new vantage point conjured more questions, more ways of seeing,” the protagonist says of a sculpture discovered off a Greek island – and the story of a U.S. museum negotiating to acquire the statue is compelling even if you’re not fascinated by the preservation and curation of artworks of antiquity. Irritation because the novel is so consciously literary in the way of a much-touted movie I saw recently, “Anatomy of a Fall,” which I had been looking forward to and mostly enjoyed but was put off to no small degree by how it was so very, very French, which is to say very consciously literary. Together, the movie and Lindley’s book put me in mind of another novel also set on a Greek island, John Fowles’ “The Magus,” in which the narrator is taken enough with metaphorical descriptions of behavior in French literary novels that he takes them for prescriptions for actual behavior, a sort of opposite reaction of my own to very literary novels, about which I’m more of the mind of an old literature professor friend of mine who noted about them that there’s so much interiorizing going on that a character can take 10 minutes deciding which way to turn a doorknob. Certainly Lindley’s novel provides ample occasions for interiorizing for her protagonist, museum assistant curator Elizabeth Clarke, who is still traumatized years later by the childhood death of her younger sister, Margaret, though the reader won’t learn the exact details of what happened until the very end of the novel. More than enough it was, though, the childhood episode, in addition to a marriage that didn’t work out – one of its memorable moments: Elizabeth beheading a rattlesnake in the garage while her husband beats a retreat – to make for a possible contributing factor to the debilitating migraines Elizabeth suffers, as well as occasional bouts of blindness which a doctor characterizes as hysterical. Also perhaps a contributing factor, the childhood trauma, for her to be given to a succession of ill-advised sexual liaisons – “I’d cheated on every partner I’d ever been with,” she says – including one that leaves her with a condom trapped inside her (the “exited contraceptive,” a doctor calls it after she’s able to extract it) and an unwise affair with a colleague, Madison, which she acknowledges was a bad call and which, she realizes, if she continues with it, would make her a “self-imploding cliche.” Especially ill-advised, the affair, given that both she and Madison are up for promotion to the museum curator's job, something that provides an extra incentive for Elizabeth to successfully pull off the statue acquisition at the island, where no sooner than she arrives she comes under the influence of her translator, Niko, and his glamorous photographer wife, Theo, who straightaway introduce her to the island’s active nightlife, from which she awakens one morning with a mysterious scratch on her neck and a split lip. Still more mysterious, though, are strange things that start happening with the statue, whose head she and Niko find taped over one day and from whose mouth Elizabeth extracts a winged insect. Reminiscent it is, the insect, of an earlier incident at her museum in which she detected some movement behind an oil painting canvas and it turned out to be a swarm of maggots. Disturbing images, to be sure, snakes and maggots and used condoms, but of a piece with an overall air of portentousness or menace about the novel, in which Theo regularly disconcerts Elizabeth with some of what she tells her. For instance, Theo tells Elizabeth of a nun she once encountered who’d drenched herself in alcohol and planned to set herself on fire and wanted Theo to capture the moment of her self-immolation on camera. Or even more unsettling, given that they’re both on an airplane at the time, Theo tells Elizabeth that it takes a crippled plane two minutes to fall to the ground and invites her to imagine what it must be like for the passengers during those two minutes. More than simply a kind of intellectual thriller, though, Lindley’s novel is a probing examination of cultural appropriation, with the issue pointedly arising at a lecture Elizabeth gives, where she tries to defend museum acquisitions of antiquities wherever they’re discovered in response to a student’s question of why antiquities don’t belong to the land where they’re found. A particular challenge it is for Elizabeth, mounting the defense, given that, as she acknowledges to herself, she was trying to explain something that she couldn’t fully understand herself. “Could I see the other side’s points?” she says later. “About objects belonging to their own heritage? Intellectually, of course. But pragmatically, no.” Bottom line for her, she acknowledges, amid the artistic aura surrounding artifact acquisition: it’s a business, plain and simple. “Much as I’d wanted to believe in ethics,” she says, “ethics were not reality, and, in reality, curation was a business. And in business, money won.” So both a serious look at acquisition of cultural artifacts and something of a page-turner, Lindley’s novel, which for all my reservations – its excessive interiorization did sometimes make it a chore for me to keep reading and some of Elizabeth’s ill-advised sexual activity did make me cringe at times – I'm still inclined to award it five stars for easily being the most well-written and absorbing novel I’ve read in some time.