Review by Booklist Review
As she did in her resplendent debut, Metropolitan Stories (2019), Coulson parlays her experiences as a staff writer at the Metropolitan Museum of Art into a nimble and ingenious tale, this time inventing a pithy new form: a novel in museum placards. The life of privileged WASP Kitty Whitaker, born in 1906, is signified by porcelain figures on display described in brief but telling wall labels. The one woman show proceeds chronologically with occasional flurries of dialogue as Kitty overcomes a lisp, indulges her urge to steal, longs to be "un-decorative," and marries wealthy Bucky Wallingford, stirring much tsking among her catty bridesmaids. The expected gleaming glide of her moneyed life is soon derailed, but Kitty maintains her edge and luster, ever determined and covertly subversive. Ultimately her resilience and caustic wit are sweet revenge. Coulson plants a clue to the method of her concision in an excerpt from a lecture about a painting Kitty owns by Georges Braque: "a sliver can conjure an entire form." Indeed, Coulson's trenchant brevity blossoms into iridescent emotions, wry humor, and stinging social critique.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Coulson's innovative yet disappointing sophomore outing (after Metropolitan Stories) is an experiment in structure that details the life of an American socialite through museum wall labels. Born in 1906, Kitty Whitaker is "all fireworks, golden child." The novel's first label belongs to a portrait of Kitty at age five and describes her as a "delirious display of Bernini verve and unrivaled WASP artistry." In subsequent portrait captions, Kitty is depicted as confident, a little cruel, and ready to take her place as the "centerpiece of a dynastic collection" through her 1926 marriage to the heir of a Pittsburgh mining fortune. Though her wedding initially seems to be the first of many triumphs, Kitty's life takes an unexpected turn when she's unable to bear a child and her husband dies in WWII. In the following decades, she remarries, seduces a stepson, and, at age 69, even applies for a job as a docent at the Metropolitan Museum. The prose is often witty and dynamic, but the constrained format limits the story rather than adding to it, and the mildly feminist arc of Kitty's self-realization feels predictable. Despite its novel structure, this turns out to be an unsatisfying showcase. Agent: Elizabeth Weed, Book Group. (Oct.)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
The life of Caroline Margaret "Kitty" Brooks Whitaker is related entirely in the form of museum wall labels, as if she were a painting. Coulson is a former writer for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and here she endeavors to conjure a woman's life entirely through wall labels. The labels follow the variously cruel, obsessive, and disaffected Kitty from her gilded childhood in the early 1910s--when she's described as a "golden child, a delirious display of Bernini verve and unrivaled WASP artistry"--through several marriages and to her death. "A pretty thing entitled to pretty things," Kitty wavers between reveling in the admiration and envy garnered by being a human objet d'art and her longing for freedom from the restraining gaze of others. Coulson is gifted at conveying astute observations through small, often humorous details: A supportive husband is compared to a "sterling silver knife rest" and small sandwiches are described as "an abstract portrait of caloric constraint" rendered with "Mondrian rigor." Coulson's innovative form is the perfect vehicle for her wry commentary on the conventions of art criticism, the complexities of seeing and being seen, and the desire for possession that is inherent in the art collections of the wealthy. The collecting of art on this scale, the novel seems to suggest, seems to tempt the collectors to see everything, even themselves and others, as objects made for consumption. Reading the novel effectively gives readers a sense of being held captive by the same forces that constrain Kitty. We observe and admire, but always with the sense that reality remains obscured by an excessively slick finish or a too-bright bit of gold leaf. While a pleasure to read and occasionally insightful, the novel never quite attains the depth required to elevate it from a fun satire to a truly profound commentary on art and the upper classes. A jewel box of a novel that could have used a bit of polish to make it truly shine. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
