The Connoisseur

by Evan S. Connell

Acclaimed author Evan S. Connell sends us through the complete experience of a man initially intrigued and then enslaved by a curious interest, a rapt fixation, and the becoming of a connoisseur. The Connoisseur trails the evolution of Muhlbach, an insurance executive on a business trip in Taos, New Mexico, who develops an obsession with pre-Columbian figurines after meandering through a curio shop. Entranced yet bewildered by his sudden affinity for a little figurine, Muhlbach succumbs to his intrigue and, thirty dollars later, begins his journey as a connoisseur.

With superb delivery and subtle clarity, Connell allows us to see and feel Muhlbach’s emerging mania, with its impending tension and sudden exhilaration. He illustrates how a new fixation alters our lens on life and shapes our actions.

Genres: Fiction, Novels, American, 20th Century, Art, Literary Fiction

208 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1974

About the author

Evan Shelby Connell Jr. (August 17, 1924 – January 10, 2013) was a U.S. novelist, poet, and short-story writer. His writing covered a variety of genres, although he published most frequently in fiction.

In 2009, Connell was nominated for the Man Booker International Prize, for lifetime achievement. On April 23, 2010, he was awarded a Los Angeles Times Book Prize: the Robert Kirsch Award, for "a living author with a substantial connection to the American West, whose contribution to American letters deserves special recognition."

Connell was born in Kansas City, Missouri, the only son of Evan S. Connell, Sr. (1890–1974), a physician, and Ruth Elton Connell. He had a sister Barbara (Mrs. Matthew Zimmermann) to whom he dedicated his novel Mrs. Bridge (1959). He graduated from Southwest High School in Kansas City in 1941. He started undergraduate work at Dartmouth College but joined the Navy in 1943 and became a pilot. After the end of World War II, he graduated from the University of Kansas in 1947, with a B.A. in English. He studied creative writing at Columbia University in New York and Stanford University in California. He never married, and lived and worked in Sausalito, California for decades.
(Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Chrissie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oh, I loved this! Amazing? Well, yes, it was for me. Reading this was a totally wonderful experience. How do I properly explain why? I will try.

The prose, the humor, the interesting subjects put-under-a- microscope, the setting of first Taos and then NYC--all appealed to me. NYC of the 60s is served up perfectly. I was there then so I can legitimately have this opinion. I had recently read about Taos in another book, so I wanted to learn more. In reading this book you get a feel for Taos.

This book, although of not many pages, keeps your mind twirling all the way through. Why do people collect things? Have you ever collected model cars or stamps or shells or whatever? What causes us to do this? And what determines the objects we want to possess? Is it their aesthetic beauty? Is it their monetary value? Is it the lure of making a profit if they should one day be sold? Why do collectors desire that which is authentic? One has lots of fun sorting through these questions.

The lines, the prose, I found to be perfect for the time and the place. The central character shares his thoughts with us. He gets caught up in the attraction of pre-Columbian artifacts. He is a middle aged insurance agent raising two kids on his own. He has a live-in nanny. The circumstances are perfect for the 60s and NYC.

Many of the lines are also funny, amusing. The humor is not spelled out, but for me it was obvious. Here is the description given by an elderly, widowed New York antique shop owner of her deceased husband, “He was lost at sea during the war. Torpedoed. The Germans sank him.” Am I the only one laughing? Do you see the humor too? Such lines are all through the text.

On observing the behavior of his kids, the central character correctly assesses that discussing his pre-Colombian books with them simply “made them fear another boring lecture was coming up.”

In describing one guy’s clothing, we are told his “sport shirt meshed with the floral carpet.”

This line isn’t funny. It is just plain good:
“I’ve learned just enough to be irritated by my ignorance.”
Don’t you think it correctly states how human beings react and think?

I never wanted to put this book down. I gladly listened to portions several times. I learned about pre-Colombian artifacts. I chuckled and I thought. I sucked up the ambiance of NY, in the 60s. I enjoyed this thoroughly. Maybe it won’t fit you as well as it fits me, but for me it’s worth five stars.

Robertson Dean narrates the audiobook. His narration is perfect! You hear the humor. He emphasizes the right words and pauses in the right places. No question—his narration is worth five stars. I recommend you listen to the audiobook. The whole package, i. e. the text and its narration, is wonderful. The two mesh into each other just as they should.

I am giving both the book and its narration five stars. The story is short but it’s a work of art for a connoisseur. Interpret that as you like, but I do hope you catch the intended humor.

*********************

*The Connoisseur 5 stars
*Mrs. Bridge 5 stars
*Mr. Bridge 4 stars
*Son of the Morning Star: General Custer and the Battle of the Little Bighorn 4 stars
*Deus Lo Volt!: A Chronicle of the Crusades maybe

[Tim · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nobody's read this book, as far as I can tell. It's one of my favorite books and, I think, one of the great lost classics of the twentieth century. I'm not kidding. It's an odd little book, if for no other reason than there are no subplots: Muhlbach discovers an interest in pre-Columbian art. That interest becomes an obsession. And that's it. So why do I like it? Partly the execution of the individual scenes. I love Muhlbach's interaction with the shopkeeper that opens the book. If you don't like that scene, you won't like the book. The other part is: it's universal. He's living an ordinary life and he's seeking out something beautiful and mysterious. And something old: the art is a reminder that he's just here for a little while, and all that's left is what he leaves behind.

[Ms.pegasus · Rating 5 out of 5]

A mystique envelopes those deemed art connoisseurs, chiefly figures of a past era such as Bernard Berenson and Thomas Hoving. They speak of being transported back across time into the mind of the artist. Today, leaning heavily on science to authenticate a work, it's easy to dismiss that kind of unique intuitive sensibility unique to the art connoisseur.

Author Evan S. Connell explores the psychology or the art connoisseur in this novel. His protagonist is a middle-aged insurance executive named Muhlbach. A serendipitous excursion to Taos during a business trip takes him to an eclectic souvenir shop where he experiences a visceral reaction to a diminutive terra cotta Mayan burial figurine. The price is absurdly low, but the shopkeeper assures him the piece is authentic and suggests he can get it examined by one of the University of New Mexico experts in Albuquerque on his return trip if he has doubts.

By chance one such expert is available and with jeweler's loupe and dental pick in hand makes a careful examination of the piece. The man is taciturn and unsociable but yields up two bits of information: yes, it's authenticate, and these are some names of authorities whose books you might look into if you are interested.

Muhlbach is definitely interested and by the time he boards his plane back to New York he has two of the books. He is soon deep into descriptions of Jaina burials and Olmec sculpture. A fellow passenger, Holmgren, senses a fellow obsessive. Holmgren collects baskets and pours out his expertise – tribes, materials, techniques, ornamentation, dates and prices – to his captive audience. There is a whole hidden world of serious collectors, and Muhlbach is slowly being drawn into that world.

From Holmgren he learns of an itinerant auctioneer of cultural artifacts. Despite misgivings, he attends the auction when it arrives at a New York venue. Here, we are treated to one of the most riveting vignettes in the novel. The range of items from crude arrowheads to elaborate artifacts, most of uncertain provenance, are described in detail. The attendees are just as varied. There are casual browsers, collectors, and veteran dealers. The collectors and dealers all seem to know each other. The auctioneer, Wes Piglett, is a shrewd salesman with a disarmingly folksy patter. We watch the proceedings, wondering who will bid and how high the prices will go.

This novel is filled with details of pre-Columbian civilization and art. It also touches on modern concerns of artifact forgery, the archaeological looting and artifact theft, and repatriation. However, Connell's primary concern is how passion can be ignited by the sight or tactile sensation of a particular piece, with monetary value only a secondary consideration. He shows his disdain for snobbery in the person of a wealthy collector of Asian Art, who displays his acquisitions like trophies.

By the end of this book, Muhlenbach is ready to deviate from his careful pedestrian path. “Where am I taking myself? he wonders. Or do I delude myself once again by assuming that I control the direction of my life? Why is it that nothing except pre-Columbian art seems to matter much anymore?....These artifacts have become precious to me now when they seemed valueless before I visited Taos....I'm gripped by an obsession. I suppose I should be alarmed, but as a matter of fact I'm not. This is really rather pleasant. I want more. Do all deluded persons feel the same? Do they all plead for more? And if they do, how does it end?” (p.146)

At first, I was somewhat dismissive of this book, despite a passing familiarity with pre-Columbian cultures. However, I couldn't stop thinking about the character of Muhlenbach and the artifacts he came to love, to want to know more about, and in the end demand that they speak to him. This is a deceptively addictive novel. It's pages are filled with interesting characters and dialogue. It's the kind of book that provokes a curiosity that transcends its 197 pages.

[Pascale · Rating 5 out of 5]

Why is this book not considered an American classic? I loved every word of this simple, haunting story. On a business trip to New Mexico, Muhlbach, a widower with 2 children who works in insurance, falls in love with a small statue in a junk shop. Initially, he couldn't care less about its authenticity, but in the space of a few hours his life is going to take a new direction as he stops at the University of Albuquerque to have his find authenticated, then starts buying books on the Mayas. Back in New York, Muhlback can't stop thinking about the New Mexican landscapes and fantasizes about relocating out there, out of reach of vulgar Eula who is so obviously trying to get him to marry her. Muhlbach plays dumb and only seeks out people who can further his new pursuit. Holmgren, a compulsive collector of baskets, introduces him to the mercurial auctioneer Wesley Piglett. Since he struck lucky with his first purchase, Muhlbach can't resist bidding for a jade mask, even though he notices that none of the dealers present at the auction shows any interest in the object. Undeterred by this costly mistake, Muhlback continues seeking experts in his new field. After a long evening with collector Claude Varda, Muhlbach's passion reaches fever pitch. He makes his way to the gallery of Arthur Guy and his partner Maureen, who explain to him why his purchase at the auction must be a fake. At the end of a long session where the gallerists seem to have generously shared all their knowledge with him, Muhlbach commits very serious money to buy one of their items on an installment plan. Even this extravagant acquisition doesn't calm his new lust, and on the last page of the book we see him apostrophizing yet another Mayan or pseudo-Mayan sculpture sitting in the window of a bric-a-brac shop in the Village: "Speak! Speak! he commands the hunchback. Tell me everything I need to know." A lot of the the novel is told through dialogue, with Muhlbach's thoughts as counterpoint. I just loved the way Connell describes Muhlbach's sudden obsession with Pre-Columbian culture, and the way in which it gives new meaning to his life, possibly lifting him out of depression (we know absolutely nothing about his dead wife). While his new interest energizes him, of course it also threatens his bank balance, and maybe even his sanity. This book goes right to the core of the fascinating subject of why certain people become collectors, and why they collect what they collect. Why authenticity matters, and why it is so elusive and almost impossible to establish in the case of many objects. I knew nothing about this author before picking up this book, except that he was the author of "Mr Bridge" and "Mrs Bridge", but found out on wikipedia that he died in Santa Fe, having therefore made the move contemplated by Muhlbach. It's not inconceivable I should start collecting Connell's books.

[Josh Friedlander · Rating 5 out of 5]

A surprising, low-key, excellent novel. An insurance agent on a business trip in the Southwest stops off in Taos and, on a whim, buys a pre-Columbian statue. The impulse purchase slowly expands its hold on him as he gets deeper into the world of gallerists, auctioneers, decorators, scholars, and collectors. Despite not being able to explain why he cares so much, nor whether he is actually able to detect fakes, his purchasing career takes off. And…that's the whole plot, despite a constant sense of something bigger afoot. The novel is full of great (usually nasty) descriptions of people, and the psychological tension builds relentlessly (there is something of Walter Tevis here, or Max Frisch, or Stefan Zweig's story Amok, though all of those writers are more emotionally expressive; Connell - most famous for two novels of his Kansas City childhood - is the master of "Wasp repression"). Along the way are many great conversations about aesthetics and art collection: why one should care if an artifact is real or fake, if they are indistinguishable (Walter Benjamin's "aura" is unmentioned but implied); the ethics of owning something removed from its native country by smugglers or impoverished locals; the pyramid-like economics of the art and antique world; and the ultimate impossibility of knowledge about authenticity and provenance. Despite all this Muhlbach keeps wanting to acquire more "pre-Columbian", a feeling totally alien to me, but I wondered how Connell - a Midwesterner who lived much of his life in California - might be gesturing at the colonial imagination of the American West, built on the embers of countless wondrous vanished peoples, which resist all attempts at possession or even unclouded apprehension by eyes which are still, after all these centuries, interlopers.

[Prooost Davis · Rating 4 out of 5]

A businessman visits Taos and buys a little pre-Columbian statue. He is assured that the statue is authentic, but he really doesn't care, he just likes it. But he takes the shop owner's suggestion and has an expert look at it. The expert also pronounces it authentic. From this small beginning, the businessman develops an obsession with pre-Columbian art and the methods used to tell the real from the fake. Often, it seems, even the experts don't know.

Many questions are posed in the unfolding of this novel. Why does knowing whether an object is authentic or just an excellent copy change our feeling about the object? What is taste? Why does a person who become obsessed with collecting a certain kind of thing (say, pre-Columbian carvings from Mexico) scoff at another collector's interest (say, Pomo Indian baskets)? What ethics are involved in building a collection that should be another country's heritage?

This is the first fiction I've read by Connell (author of an excellent history of the Battle of the Little Big Horn), and this novel is every bit as didactic as his non-fiction. I think many readers will probably object to long sections of explanation in The Connoisseur, but the story is told with a lot of subtle humor.

[Ivar Dale · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very peculiar novel, but also very good and enjoyable. This definitely shouldn’t be out of print, has the feel of a half-lost classic.

[Donna Kremer · Rating 3 out of 5]

I only enjoyed about half of this book but I understood the obsessiveness like a well worn shirt.

[Chris · Rating 2 out of 5]

Someone help me out here; is there a fan of The Connoisseur willing to impart some knowledge upon the collective, ignorant ass of the masses? Because, truly, I’m at a loss of what to say here. At a slender 175 pages (standard mass market ppbk size), you’ll already have this finished when several niggling questions come to mind: Did I just really read a book of fiction without a single quotation mark? Did a single one of the 500 references to obscure locales in Central/South America mean anything to me? Could I attempt pronouncing half of those esteemed sites? What was the meaning of this book? Did the guy who recommended the publication of this book keep his job?

Well, I’ll leave it at this: The Connoisseur is certainly a quick read, and somewhat interesting, but this is also not to be confused with an important piece of work. I picked this up on the cheap, for the fitting price of 50 cents mainly due to the cover, which was straight out of 1977 and not looking a day more contemporary and an appealing description on the back that reads “For Mulbach, it is the consummate love affair – not with a woman or even a man, but with an imperious Mayan figurine that draws him into its world...aware – and afraid of a new life within him destroying the old, he fearfully succumbs to the one inviolate urge that will expose, torment, and transform him as no flesh-and-blood creature ever could.” In all honesty, whoever was able to piece that intriguing pitch for this is a far better wordsmith than the author. Based on that, I was expecting this to be about a man who somehow comes into possession of some ill-omened Mayan relic, which draws him into a world of madness and soon possesses Mulbach; leading him to a series of murder, rape, robbery, or other slight misdemeanors and breaches of the social contract. Do not be fooled: Nothing of the sort happens.

As if author Evan Connell (whom I have never previously heard of) knows that most will be perplexed at what they have just read, if only because they are still trying to digest why they actually read it when there is nothing resembling a pay-off, he decides to half-assedly include the moral of the story on the last page of the book: “It isn’t comforting to acquire a little knowledge. Ignorance is certainly preferable. But he has acquired a little knowledge, perhaps no deeper than a root trace, which can’t be lost.” That’s right, the whole story is an exercise in confirming the ages old adage that ignorance is bliss. I’d like to say that the story amounts to more than that, but alas, it doesn’t. There are exactly three events/scenes in this book which just keep repeating over and over in minor variations: Mulbach is reading about early American art, his conversation with someone on the same topic is being summarized (as the book does without quotation marks as previously stated), or Mulbach is internally debating something about the authenticity of his fledgling collection. The tragedy is that had he just purchased the piece and called it a day he’d be fine, but no, curiosity kills this hep-cat, and his desire to learn something sends him spiraling into compulsive behaviors.

So here’s the story in a nutshell; our main man Mulbach is on a business trip to the American Southwest, and while in Nowhere, New Mexico, he comes across an appealing artifact from the burial island of Jaina, and is able to pick this up from some dingy store for a mere 30 bucks. The acquisition of this relic affects him like a hit of crack, prior to boarding his flight home, he has the authenticity confirmed and has picked up two books concerning Pre-Columbian American Art. That’s about it. A dude buys an awesome figurine and is immediately hooked, he can’t stop thinking about all things Pre-Columbian, and now the other similarly afflicted addicts seem to be magnetically drawn to him, as his flight home consists of him meeting a scuzbucket named Holmgren, an adamant collector of wicker baskets, who tips him off to an auction going on back home in New York City which may include some examples of his new obsession. Upon arriving home to his house-keeper and his two motherless children, Mulbach tries to pique their interest in his new hobby. No luck. He begins hanging out with other collectors, dealers, and other assorted malcontents, rarely coming home on time, half-assing it at work, and generally withdrawing into his weird little world of native American antiquity. Ultimately, all his newfound hobby does is bring him misery, as he doesn’t have the experience necessary to determine if he’s getting authentic pieces, doesn’t have the type of cash-flow that will him to readily acquire new pieces, and ends up pondering several questions larger than the story itself. Is it morally sound to withhold an item of historic importance from its descendants by adding it to a personal collection? What does authenticity matter, if a convincing replica will satisfy the same aesthetic appeal? Questions are raised, few are answered, and it really doesn’t matter, since most of the queries aren’t even worthy of a response.

As someone who worked in a collectible story for 4 years, peddling mass-produced (but often limited-edition) works by international ‘artisans’ such as Lladro porcelain, Swarovski crystal, Hummels, Caithness glass paperweights, Royal Copenhagen plates, and numerous other crap on down to the lowly Dept. 56 villages and Precious Moments, I’ve seen this disturbing behavior firsthand. Believe me, it’s generally unappealing. Most of these people apparently live in homes that are probably 40-foot multi-modal shipping containers converted into something resembling a suitable habitat, personal hygiene appears to exist lower on their list of concerns than their designs to acquire a rat constructed of felt, and I shit you not when I say weird doesn’t begin to describe them. Calling most of these people freaks would be a compliment of the highest order, and worse yet, in my four years there, I probably was confronted with about 30 hot chicks, who had apparently strolled into the wrong store. Granted, there is a world of difference between collecting 1000-year-old, one-of-a-kind artifacts which were being cast an ocean away while Charlemagne was still handling $hit in Europe and something manufactured in China last month and brought into Long Beach by the thousands; but the unsavory results of such an addiction are comparable.

[Ron · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is about the power of art to captivate and obsess. It is about the question of why authenticity is superior to beauty. It examines, briefly, the morality of collecting of archaeological work taken from the native country. It depicts the mind games dealers play with buyers.
It was a hoot, especially the long section at the auction at the Queens motel. The auctioneer was terrific.
I will remember the auction, and Muhlbach's obsessive involvement, his new-won expertise, and his deserved doubtfulness about its value.

[Leanne · Rating 5 out of 5]

See the review by Guy Davenport in the New York Times
https://www.nytimes.com/1974/09/01/ar...

[Diener · Rating 3 out of 5]

My mom bought this book for me 17 or 18 years ago - a first-edition hardcover in mint condition by an author I did not know. She purchased it from a family friend who owned a store that traded in rare and first-edition books. She bought it for me on the friend’s recommendation and as far I know she never read it or any of the author’s other works.

The book sat on bookshelves in the various homes I’ve lived in over the last 17 or 18 years, transported in cardboard boxes full of other books from Texas to Oregon to Arizona.

After reading non-fiction almost exclusively for the last couple of years, I decided a couple of weeks ago to reacquaint myself with fiction for a while, maybe read nothing but fiction the entire year. So I browsed my bookshelves looking for a novel I’d not yet read. I pulled several off the shelves and ultimately decided on this one, this obscure novel published in my birth year by an author with whose work I was completely unfamiliar.

The book is tidy and economical and explores for some 190 pages the head space of a character imprisoned by his newfound obsession with pre-Colombian art. I could have easily given this book four stars, and if I were able to grasp the evasive meaning that must be lurking beneath the surface perhaps I’d have given it five stars. That said I could’ve also given it one star if I thought there was less to this book than I think I may have derived from it.

I did write down in the notebook of quotes a couple of nuggets, including this gem:

“I’ve learned just enough to be irritated by my ignorance.”

[Patrick King · Rating 5 out of 5]

“So that’s it, Muhlbach thinks. I can’t distinguish reality any longer. I’m gripped by an obsession. I suppose I should be alarmed, but as a matter of fact I’m not. This is really rather pleasant. I want more. Do all deluded persons feel the same? Do they all plead for more? And if they do, how does it end?”

A funny and fascinating look at obsession and chance—our narrator, an insurance man, stumbles upon a pre-Columbian indigenous Mexican figurine in a Taos gift shop and all but upends his life to become a connoisseur. We follow our narrator through awkward conversations with similarly obsessed collectors (all of whom strike the narrator as crazies), to private home galleries, to trashy motel auctions, to museums, and dark Mexican restaurants. There are moments of piercing self reflection and rumination on the nature of authenticity and the ethics of collecting. But more than anything, I feel a strange kinship with this budding connoisseur—I understand immersing yourself in a thing that strikes you (and seemingly you alone) as beautiful and stumbling through esoterica before finding yourself a babe in the woods amongst the REAL connoisseurs.

Insane writing too—drifting imperceptibly between conversation and narrative and history lessons. I often found myself wondering what the narrator was actually saying aloud and what was a private thought. I’ve never heard of Evan S. Connell but I’ll certainly be seeking out more of his work.

[Kathleen Donlan · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5

The characters in this book are hilarious and so well written. So many character quirks were so easily recognizable and I enjoyed the protagonist's inner thoughts.

However--at times, pages and pages of detailed description of the art got a bit tedious, especially as the book wore on. I lost a bit of enthusiasm for it and skimmed some of those paragraphs/pages.

In all, though, the book is so enjoyable and well written.

[Addison V · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well crafted, dryly funny, and often engrossing. Overall, though, despite its economical and often pithy prose, this novel lacked the understated power that novels such as Mrs. Bridge and Mr. Bridge contained. Additionally, some of the very elaborate details about pre-Columbian art were a tad tedious (to say nothing of the long passages quoted directly from anthropology texts).

[Orest Mercator · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wouldn’t recommend this book to everyone (in part because it’s got some dated stuff), but if you’re an obsessive person who’s ever been bit by the bug of some subject or another, this’ll be fun. Nicely written (the free indirect discourse works well), dedicated to Bob Gottlieb (love), and surprisingly gripping. Thanks for the rec, Matt!

[Ann Major · Rating 5 out of 5]

this is a good novel about the obsession of collecting

As I read this novel, I kept wondering why am I reading it? I liked Mr. Bridge and Mrs. Bridge. So I chose this book to read. I did not find it as compelling as those books, but it is well written. I know several art collectors, and I found this book to be interesting.

[Myles · Rating 5 out of 5]

A small, perfect book about obsession, anxiety, the depths of our investment in objects.

[Corey · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fine meditation on art and authenticity by the author of the supernal Mr. and Mrs. Bridge novels.

[Donna · Rating 1 out of 5]

More of an essay on pre-Columbian art than a story.

[Jason McCracken · Rating 2 out of 5]

Pretty boring unless you really want to know about pre-Columbian art, because this is just a series of lectures barely hidden behind an uninteresting plot.

[Susan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Enjoyed this.

[Gurldoggie · Rating 3 out of 5]

A middle-aged insurance agent needing change loses his mind and his money in pursuit of pre-Colombian art. A brisk narrative with little ornament serves a short and uncomplicated novel.

[Arya Stark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Prachtig. Wil alles lezen van deze schrijver, is derde boek na Mr & Mrs Bridge and diary of a rapist.

[Sean · Rating 4 out of 5]

Connell is a master painter of the small life.

[Alien · Rating 4 out of 5]

On a business trip insurance clerk Muhlbach buys a little Maya figure in an antiquity shop. First he does not care if it is genuine, but then he gets the expert opinion of a university. When it is confirmed that it is the real thing, he is intrigued.

This book surprised me. Pre-columbian art does not interest me at all. So I started the book just to verify that it was nothing for me.
But then I liked it quite a bit. It really has a lot of substance. It talks about many topics related to the subject of art collectors. You learn a lot about the art market, the dealers, the fakers, the role of the museums. And about the psychology of the collector. It is interesting and somewhat amusing how the protagonist constantly finds himself doing things that his rational mind just decided that are not sensible and that he will not do.
I would guess that the author not only knows a lot about the subject but might be an obsessive collector himself.

[Tyler McGaughey · Rating 3 out of 5]

Weird little book about a milquetoast New York insurance man who becomes obsessed with pre-Columbian art on a business trip to New Mexico. Consists mostly of his dialogues with shopkeepers, low-rent auction patrons, standard-issue '70s avant types (somewhat along these lines), and so on, occasionally interspersed with undigested excerpts from archaeological texts. Ends, more or less, with our protagonist (Who I guess is the titular character? Is this some proto-P.T. Anderson shit?) drunk and alone in a Mexican restaurant - been there, buddy! It's all a far cry from the poignant, sardonic precision of Connell's Bridge novels but sorta more interesting for it.

[t-rex · Rating 3 out of 5]

A plain, ordinary man (so plain and ordinary you'd expect him to have dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Bridge at some point) and his obsession with art.

My edition had the potential figurine in question on the cover, which I found preferable to the cover shown above.

[Kellie Porter · Rating 3 out of 5]

I would give this 3 1/2 stars if I could. I think it would have been a stronger work if it were a short story, but as it is, it is an interesting exploration of a moment in time.

[Carl Bettis · Rating 3 out of 5]

I love Connell, but this is not one of his best novels.