The Genius by Jesse Kellerman
Lander Marks reviews
The Genius by Jesse Kellerman
I enjoyed the fast pace, well drawn characters and plot of The Genius. Kellerman moves the story along without grotesque or ridiculous theories. The reader feels the pain, envisions the detail in the art work and smells the dank air of the storeroom. I didn’t realize the book was about art (see: artist’sproof, the book) until I opened the cover. What a delight! Not your typical hide and seek Thomas Crowne affair-novel.
The transition from current to back story is unevenly applied. While the information provides a wonderful appreciation of an important time in American cultural history and to that of the storyline, a change of font would have helped the reader.
Jesse writes with clarity, leading us along with ease, however, I found the narrator’s interruptions distracting, creating a disconnect in mid-stream. In fact, the narrator speaking directly to the reader, left me feeling manipulated and annoyed by the sometimes condescending tone. Beyond the first person main character position, it added nothing to the plot.
All in all, the book is a 9 out of 10. I look forward to his next and next and next.
see the first chapter from The Genius… courtesy of www.jesseKellerman.com
Chapter One
In the beginning, I behaved badly. I’m not going to lie to you, so allow me to get that on the table right away: while I would like to believe that I redeemed myself later, there’s no question that—in the beginning at least—I lacked a certain purity of purpose. That’s putting it mildly. If we’re being honest, let’s be honest: I was motivated by greed and, more importantly, by narcissism: a sense of entitlement that runs deep in my genes and that I can’t seem to shake, no matter how ugly it makes me feel, some of the time. Part of the job description, I suppose, and part of the reason I’ve moved on. Know thyself.
Christ. I promised myself that I’d make an effort to avoid sounding like a pretentious prick. I ought to be more hardboiled; I’d like to be. I don’t think I have it in me. To write in clipped sentences. To employ gritty metaphor in the introduction of sultry blondes. (My heroine’s a brunette, and not the especially sultry kind; her hair isn’t jet black and dripping; it’s medium chestnut and, more often than not, pragmatically tied back, workmanlike ponytails or flyaway buns or stashed behind her ears.) I can’t do it, so why bother trying?
We each get one story to tell, and we have to tell it in the way that comes naturally. I don’t carry a gun; I don’t get into car chases or fistfights. All I can do is write down the truth, and truthfully I might be kind of a pretentious prick. That’s all right. I can live with that.
As Sam is fond of saying It is what it is.
Generally, I don’t agree. A more appropriate rule of thumb—for my life, my line of work, and this story—might be It is what it is, except when it isn’t, which is most of the time. I still don’t know the whole truth, and I doubt I ever will.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Tags: art, Jesse kellerman, Mystery, The Genius
