The late Harriet Burden had been creating unusual and visceral installations for thirty years, but had largely gone unnoticed by art critics and the general public. Recognised more for being the widow of renowned art dealer Felix Lord, she was constantly ignored or passed over as (in her eyes) talentless young men ascended the dizzying heights of the art community. Fed up, angry and craving attention, she devised a brilliant ruse – to use three male artists as puppets with which to reveal and shame the misogynistic side of the fine art scene. But this grand experiment did not go the way she planned, and she was faced with ruining the life of one of her subjects, losing the friendship of another and has art stolen by a third.
The novel is presented as a loose collection of manuscripts formed from Harriet’s own diaries, critical studies of her work, interviews and commentary from people that knew her. In a particularly meta fashion, Hustvedt adds annotations and references to real and imaginary artists and texts, blending the line between novel and art lesson. There is an awful lot to take in, with Harriet/Hustvedt dropping references to obscure tracts, interesting asides about artists and the looming presence of Søren Kierkegaard. She even references herself within the text, drolly referring to herself as the “obscure novelist and essayist, Siri Hustvedt.” In some ways it is necessary to define a brand new genre for this novel – a genre I shall coin as ‘Speculative Non-Fiction.’ Loaded with a Wikipedia-esque labyrinth of footnotes, it can be a little heavy going, particularly in the middle sections as the constant meta-textual analysis begins to wear one down and the pace slows.
On the fiction side of things, we meet her colleagues and loved ones, and see the various ways they see her; be it the snide and cruel remarks made by a prominent critic, the vivid memories from her daughter or the muddled but sweet new-age description provided by an old assistant. We get fantastic and detailed walkthroughs of her impressive and dramatic sculptures and installations, while also seeing how they tie into her husband’s death and the memory of her father. Some of the facts are left ambiguous, such as the truth behind co-worker and possible nemesis Rune’s involvement in her own work and what exactly happened with his last art piece.
Harriet is a grating personality – her diary extracts are overwrought and pretentious, and she is quick to anger and retribution – but she still manages to come across as a sympathetic character as she battles to be believed and taken seriously as the great artist she is. It is the other characters talking about Harriet that draw the most interest, whether it’s the poignant sections dealing with her death from the perspective of her lover and daughter, or even the in-progress notes from her friend and collaborator as he looks back wistfully at the work they did together.
Not for everybody, this book is an impressive piece of work, meticulously sewn together and incredibly brave in the way it tackles inherent problems in the art world, but also in the form that it takes. I think it is one of those novels that one admires more than enjoys. A dense and uncompromising novel.