Solomonovsky: Michael J Landy

16-year-old Ruth Levinson is snooty, pampered, and in cold control of her destiny. Until Solomonovsky steps into her life and sends it hurtling off into the darkest corners of hell. Can she escape unharmed?

‘I enjoyed it, admired it, and found myself gripped by it. I put my work down to read 30 pages or so, and read the whole book at a sitting.’

DAVID NOBBS
(Creator of Reginald Perrin)


Solomonovsky has been languishing in my reviewing-bag for far too long. I've made several attempts to read the book so that I could write a decent review: but despite Michael J Landy's fluent writing and mostly-clean editing I've made very poor headway with this book.

Solomonovsky is a painter, and Landy frequently lapses into floweriness when showing him at work. Although I suspect this was done in order to convince the reader of Solomonovsky’s genius, it had quite the opposite effect on me: I found Solomonovsky a tiresome, boorish character. I didn’t like him at all: he's arrogant, manipulative and sexually predatory, without a shred of kindness to redeem himself with and no, I don't for a moment buy into the stereotype that creative people are allowed to be so very oafish: arsey behaviour is unacceptable no matter how you earn your living. And because of that, I simply do not believe that the women who encounter him would behave the way that they do: they all adore him no matter how rudely and disreputably he behaves, and no reason is given for his behaviour. At least, no plausible one.

At one point a prim and respectable married woman, who is so emotionally buttoned up that even her husband has never seen her naked, is asked by Solomonovsky to pose naked for him.
She finds the idea, and Solomonovsky, appealing (god knows why: he is unrelentingly self-centred and rude) and although she hesitates, when he shows her his painting of one of her friends, who is equally repressed and absolutely starkers, she is persuaded:

“Lilian Bookbinder. When I look at her, displaying her nakedness, I know what she is thinking. I have been allowed to see deep into the soul of another human being. He has done that. He has made me read the expression on her face and now I know her better than anyone does, I understand her the way Solomonovsky understands her.”

I would have thought a more reasonable reaction for her would be to be horrified at the idea of him showing a painting of her own naked self to all and sundry: but no, not only does she find the whole thing somehow enlightening, she agrees to allow her sixteen-year-old daughter, who she chaperones everywhere, to also pose for Solomonovsky alone despite it being obvious that the bloke is going to come on to the daughter too.

This could have made for a powerful story if it had been made more believable: I'm sure that could have been done if the writer had given his characters a little more depth, provided them with some plausible motivation, and explored their internal conflict with more thought and care. As it is, I just didn't buy it and my reading ground to a halt as a result.

I read to page forty-five and despite Landy's unusually fluent and articulate prose, find myself relieved to be done with this one.

Oh, Look: A Retweet Button On The Self-Publishing Review!

I've added "tweet this" buttons to my reviews here, and a separate one over at the side of the blog which will allow people to tweet links to the whole blog, rather than to specific posts here.

I've had "tweet this" buttons on my main blog for some time now, but resisted adding them here as I'm well aware that many of the writers I feature here find my reviews rather difficult to cope with: I didn't want them feeling that I was turning them into some sort of freak-show. However, many people (including some of the writers who have been subject to my reviews) have encouraged me to add the buttons here and so, after much careful thought, that's what I've done.

They might not be a permanent feature. I'm going to monitor how they're used for a while and, if I feel that retweets are being used to humiliate or poke fun at the writers who have been brave enough to submit to me, then I'll take them off. I welcome your comments about this either here or on Twitter where I have the user-name "hprw" (for some reason Blogger won't let me put the "at" sign in front of that, but if you click the link you should find me) and I hope that this turns out to be a positive thing.

Ghost Notes: Art Edwards

Ghost Notes is a worthy contribution to the pantheon of rock novels. This is a savvy, sharp, insider's view of the rise and fall of a band and what can be lost and found along the way.
-Mark Lindquist, author of Never Mind Nirvana and The King of Methlehem

Engrossing, real, and well-written... the characters are reliable and honest.
-Laurie Notaro, author of There’s a (slight) Chance I Might Be Going to Hell: A Novel of Sewer Pipes, Pageant Queens, and Big Trouble

Ghost Notes is the Almost Famous for the minor leaguers of rock 'n' roll. I read it straight through and loved it.
-Curtis Grippe, Arizona Republic/Dead Hot Workshop

A bass player ready to jump ship from his mega-band, a drifter who hasn't seen his son for twenty years, a sixteen-year-old high school dropout who is going to rock the world come hell or high water, what melodies will pour forth from these rock 'n' roll hearts?

Art Edwards, co-founder and former bass player of the Refreshments, has published two novels, Ghost Notes and Stuck outside of Phoenix, and has released one solo album, Songs from Memory. To learn more about art, visit www.ArtEdwards.com.



When I was a junior editor one of my duties was to deal with the slush-pile. It was a miserable thing to do, with the bulk of the work it contained far too bad to be publishable; too bad to even be interesting. I'd sit there reading through each submission hoping, every time, that I'd find something good. Something sparky, well-written, original, exciting: but I never did. I had a few near-misses; there were a few submissions which made me hold my breath, just for a moment; which made me think, perhaps—but almost every time the writing would stumble, the direction would change, and into the rejection-pile it would go.

The few times I found a book with real potential—with writing which caught my attention and a premise that made me sit back and smile—I'd feel an odd moment of stillness and silence, a hesitation in time. I'd hear a voice saying, "there—you didn't expect that, did you?" It didn't happen often but when it did, it was magical.

I had one of those magical moments when I read Art Edwards’ book, Ghost Notes.

It's the story of Hote, a troubled bass player with Fun Yung Moon, a touring rock band with a fading reputation. When Hote abandons Fun Yung Moon in the middle of a tour he encounters Pippy, who has dropped out of high school to be a musician.

There is a poignancy to Art's writing which gives his book a rare authenticity. I believed everything he wrote, even the chapter from a drummer in rock and roll heaven who addressed us while reclining on a cloud. I found his sparse, gritty prose quietly lyrical: Art Edwards has a real writerly talent.

My only quibble lies with the multiple viewpoints we encounter through Art's book. While all of his characters are beautifully drawn and fully motivated, their voices do not differ from each other sufficiently to make it clear who is speaking in new each chapter and, as the book is written from a first person point of view throughout, this is particularly troublesome. Had I been editing this book for Art this is the one area I would have advised him to work hard on: resolving this problem would have eliminated the confusion I sometimes felt as I read through the book and it would have enhanced and improved the texture of his multi-layered narrative, giving his already-good book much more depth and scope.

There were a few typos (including that run-on sentence in his back cover copy, quoted above—if you read this, Art, fix it, please!) but they were just about invisible to me because of the quality of Art’s writing. I loved every page of this book despite its flaws, and will be buying his other novel, Stuck Outside of Phoenix, and perhaps his music too. As writers go, he's the real thing and this book is a lovely, memorable read.