By Alison Lurie
While writing a biography of a mysterious painter, a love-scarred writer is compelled to confront her personal past
Polly regulate is thru with males. nearly with out knowing it, she has outfitted a wholly lady society for herself. Her neighbors and coworkers, or even her pharmacist, are all ladies, and all appear to be doing wonderful with out the corporate of guys. improving from her divorce, Polly has taken a 12 months off from her museum task to write down a biography of Lorin Jones, a delicate painter who died younger and approximately forgotten. Polly is set to deliver the artist the general public acclaim she merits, making up for the overlook and exploitation Lorin suffered from the boys in her life.
The in basic terms challenge with the tale of Lorin's victimhood is that it will possibly no longer be precise. And as Polly wades deeper into her study, starting to be extra connected to her topic, and extra misplaced on this planet of 2 a long time prior, she starts off to achieve that no existence tale is so simple as a biographer may wish.
This e-book beneficial properties an illustrated biography of Alison Lurie together with infrequent photos from the author's assortment.
Preview of The Truth About Lorin Jones PDF
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Extra resources for The Truth About Lorin Jones
Most likely the outdated man used to be out final evening; and he should be at paintings now. What’s his task? ” “I don’t recognize. He used to be educating at a few university within the Midwest approximately ten years in the past, yet no one turns out to understand which one. yet I determine he should have retired by way of now, considering that he’s again in Key West. ” “Well, nonetheless. He can be shopping at Fausto’s or anyplace. Why don’t you ignore your study for it slow, exit and luxuriate in your self? Have a swim; see whatever of the island. ” “I haven’t acquired time for something like that, I’m afraid,” Polly acknowledged tightly. “What’s the hurry, hon? ” Lee gave her a large pleasant, even perhaps greater than pleasant, grin. “You can remain the following so long as you love; I’ll positioned you at the weekly fee. And it’s a truly lovely trip, you want to benefit from it. There’s alleged to be a typhoon at the method. ” “A typhoon? ” “Yeah, it was once at the television this morning — no longer these newsroom idiots in Miami, yet our neighborhood radar station, so it can be precise. You wait part an hour, I’ll include you. ” She leaned to this point over the cluttered bamboo table towards Polly that her low-cut oversize tangerine muumuu gaped, revealing complete brown breasts with enlarged mushroom-colored nipples. Her flesh had the heavy, inert luster that Gauguin renowned, and Polly didn’t. She hesitated just a second earlier than declining. It was once the 1st provide, or trace of a proposal, that’d come her approach because the fiasco with Jeanne. yet no matter if she’d came across Lee appealing there has been whatever approximately her, simply as there has been approximately Key West, that positioned Polly off: whatever free and lazily overheated. in addition to, no matter if she stayed longer in this unfastened, overheated island she had no time to waste: she needed to try out all seventeen artwork galleries within the telephone book, stopover at the Bureau of important statistics and the library, and maintain making an attempt Hugh Cameron’s mobile quantity. a few hours later Polly stood in another gallery the place no one had ever heard of Lorin Jones, dealing with the pretense of the convey. The work have been nonetheless lifes usually, huge acrylics thick with muddy reds and oranges, grotesque derivatives of the lately stylish new realism. God, she proposal, status in entrance of a soupy overworked portrait of a tv set and a filthy potted philodendron, i'll paint in addition to that. larger. What a farce all of it was once: a no-talent artist like this may get himself indicates, provides, prizes, buyers, studies, revenues to museums and creditors (all defined within the sleek brochure the gallery proprietor had pressed upon her). So why the hell had Polly ever hand over? relocating clear of the photographs, she stared out the plate-glass window. A cloud had slid over the solar, altering every thing. Like a level set after the lighting were became off, Key West had misplaced its meretricious appeal; it seemed pale, cheesy, makeshift. I must have saved on with my portray, she notion. Then might be I wouldn’t be attempting to write a e-book approximately an individual I by no means knew, can’t recognize. Who wouldn’t have cherished me if I had identified her, simply because she didn’t like critics and purchasers and museum humans; every body says that.