A nice read—didn’t take long to get through, so great for someone who doesn’t have a ton of spare time to invest thoughtfully in a serious brain-drain kind of story. If you’re feeling narcissistic, try Lacey Yeager on for size. It’s all about her. She’s beautiful, and we suppose she’s smart, but after reading, one might think she’s really just good at working a room, and that talent only takes you so far in life. what I was most curious about was what was never answered—just why is Lacey THAT way? What draws her to treat people as objects? Does she view then the same way she does art in her Sotheby’s/Talley/Yeager Arts existence? As something to collect and muse over in different light? And what becomes of Daniel? Does he find love? And how much of this tawdry tale of the NYC art scene is really true? Steve Martin has a way with a pen.
An Object of Beauty