My Goodreads and Amazon review of The Violet Hour by James Cahill (Rated 3) – Empty Canvas. The Violet Hour by James Cahill opens sharply, gradually fragments, and finally fizzles. The narrative purports to be a finely observed picture of today’s art market: agents and curators, collectors and critics, the artists themselves. Instead the novel is a convoluted tale of loves lost or foundering, among people about whom readers have scant reason to care. They are self-absorbed and controlling, cold and cruel, manipulative and murderous. The gratuitous sex ranges from gross to violent. As a fiber artist and novelist (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I hoped for insights into the creative process. But facing the canvas, the painter/protagonist shows an utter lack of engagement, a failure (his own judgment) to create anything of value. Presumably, that is the message of The Violet Hour — that today’s art world is devoid of artistry. However, the book itself is an empty canvas that fails to paint a picture what art should, or could, be.

An unflattering portrait of today’s art market

Why writers read: “Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?” – Annie Dillard












