Summer
Books
Money,
art and sex ... Gordons novel has it all
SPENDING By
Mary Gordon Schribner, 301 pages, $24.00
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By JUDITH BROMBERG
Spending is about much more
than money. Of course, it is also about money, but any number of currencies
insinuate themselves into this story: emotional, devotional, maternal, filial
and sexual, to name just a few.
The plot line is relatively simple; it is the emotional capital
the narrator spends that gives this novel its complexity. In short, the voice
of the novel sums it up best in the first couple of lines: I must tell
you, it was always about money. ... Of course, it was also about sex. And since
Im a painter and it affected my life and my work, youd have to say
it was about art.
Monica Szabo is a 50-year-old painter. Or more accurately, she is
an art teacher who paints. She is approached at one of her showings by a
wealthy patron who offers to financially support her for as long as it takes
for her to reach her potential as an artist. He is a commodities trader who
would give her money to purchase the commodities most precious to her at this
point: time and space. She could quit her teaching job and move into a more
painter-friendly studio. Szabo not only accepts they soon become
sexually involved.
Szabo unfolds her own story in the first person so exclusively
that we dont even learn her name until midway into the narrative, and she
coyly withholds her friends name, referring to him only as B
until the end, an affectation the novel could have done without. (And no, it
does not stand for benefactor.)
Meanwhile, Bs investment pays off. Szabo had developed an
idea for a series of paintings modeled after the Old Masters portrayals
of Jesus just after he had been taken down from the cross, but by her lights,
he looks less dead than post-orgasmic, and she intends to exploit this feature
in her own contemporary sequence. Not only does B finance a trip to Europe for
Monica to view the originals, he agrees to be her model.
Two interesting issues are embedded in this scenario. The first is
Monicas angst over accepting Bs money while offering him her body
as B is doing likewise, only on two fronts. She wanted to believe in the purity
of his motives, but could not be quite sure. What if she were wrong and she
were just another kind of futures he was taking a risk on?
Conversely, what if she were simply turning the tables and treating him as a
commodity as men, only some of them painters, have been known to do to
women?
She remarked as to how, in order to paint him, she had to
objectify him; he who became the subject of my painting was also the
object of my desire. This in turn raises the fascinating issue of
the male gaze. Men have always had the right to look at women,
visually consume them, even. Women have been trained to look aside, even demur,
in the presence of men. Countless paintings will verify this pose. In this role
reversal Szabo creates for herself an enigma as she gazes upon him
with impunity and captures him in his entirety.
Her show consisting of the deposed Christs, which she titled
Spent Men, was an artistic and financial success, but as to be
expected, not without controversy. The religious right picketed the show,
embroiling her in a media sideshow that raised her profile (and her prices).
All stories need a setback, of course, and ours comes when B suffers a
financial reversal making him literally a spent man.
But now with name recognition and her first commission, Monica,
again, initiates a role reversal and stakes him to new start-up capital.
Ironically, B seems more uncomfortable in this arrangement than in the earlier
one in the studio. Nevertheless, their sexual dependency remains intact.
I would not recommend this book for anyone with prudish
sensibilities. A significant amount of time is spent on their lovemaking,
sparing the reader few details, though love, as a value, is never spoken of. In
the entire course of the book, neither partner has been willing to name the
relationship.
What does work for me is the ongoing treatise on the artistic
process and temperament (to resort to a cliché) and the role and
importance of art in a society within which category I would include all forms
of art. When asked to comment on the Spent Men exhibit, a parish
priest deflects the previous opprobrium by refusing to see it as blasphemous,
merely a new way of looking at something.
As another character put it, Art is a deeper, fuller vision
of life. Mary Gordon does a good job of opening up this world of art with
its deeper, fuller visions as did Chaim Potok in My Name is Asher Lev
about an Hasidic Jew who caused great pain and division within his community
with his crucifixion masterpiece.
Any artist must, in fact, step outside conventional ways of
thinking and seeing, whether he is painting his mother on the cross or her
venetian blinds or her lover as a post-orgasmic Christ, and the cost to the
artist cannot be measured in dollars and cents.
And so it is not about money after all, although I will leave it
up to you to make whatever connection you will between the title
Spending and the paintings called Spent Men.
Judith Bromberg teaches literature and composition in Kansas
City, Mo., and reviews regularly for NCR.
National Catholic Reporter, May 7,
1999
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