I was so taken in by the promise of this novel, a sultry Greek island full of sunshine and female desire. It is a Very American Novel, but not in the way that I’m mostly accustomed to when an American novel features a young woman drifting through Europe where the descriptions of the scenery and the poverty and the life in Europe are so sun-drenched as to be cloying and no hint of realism is allowed to dim the protagonists journey of self-discovery.

The Nude swerves this neatly but in doing so overcorrects. I like some of Sally Rooney’s novels but I do also think that she has inspired a curse of the modern age. One in which self-consciousness passes for philosophy and narrative depth, and in The Nude it becomes difficult to read endlessly about a person unable to engage with the world around them. Disconnectedness passes for intellect and the feminism of self-loathing around comfortable issues with the body disconnected from politics though still told through the prism of aesthetic conformity. This may seem a little harsh as so much of the novel is about classic beauty and the feminine ideal but even the free-spirited Theo seems to give little to the world around her that shapes her into a solid character and it’s strange to read a novel that so stubbornly conforms its women to the dictates of the male gaze while promising sexual freedom and the questioning of art.

SET ON A SULTRY GREEK ISLAND, THE NUDE IS A SEDUCTIVE DEBUT ABOUT ART, CULTURAL THEFT AND FEMALE DESIRE

The Nude is not about cultural theft. It's barely about art, and also not entirely about female desire. It's actually mostly about trauma and self harm, with a bit of sexism on the side.

The writing is uneven; at times so delicately capturing the human experience ("Grief isn't only about loss. It's also about which parts of a person you are forced to keep"), at others simply awkward ("my brain manifested a shareable thought", "anything longer would distress my already fragile circadian rythym") or riddled with unnecessarily difficult words ("his eyes yoked mine", "some hazy, aspatial establishment", "unlit votive candles").

The descriptions of food and art made me want to hop on a flight to Greece immediately, or at least drop by the nearest museum. The dailogue, however, was often nonsensical. There's one scene, a dinner conversation about the distructive behaviors of Western museums, that's meant to come off as intellectual but is actually completely void of meaning, just a bunch of artsy-sounding non sequiturs.

Elizabeth Clarke herself is a pretty unlikeable woman, but incredibly self aware, which made her obviously distructive behavior less frustrating to read through. As the story progressed her past came to light, and her character began to make sense to me, which is when I realized this book had nothing to do with art and everything to do with trauma and self harm. In that respect, Elizabeth did go through an emotional process from start to end, and the story wrapped up well.

Thank you to Netgalley and Verve Books for the privilege of reading this ARC.

The Nude by C. Michelle Lindley is set against the backdrop of a Greek island, where Elizabeth has been sent to secure the purchase of a recently discovered Greek statue. While there, she falls into a friendship with her translator Niko, and his wife, Theo. Throughout the course of the book, we learn more about each of these characters and their personal traumas.

Lindley discusses the importance of repatriation of stolen art and history. Through evocative imagery and scenes, Lindley promotes the clear message that it is critical for pieces of history such as statues and other artwork to be returned to their homelands.

The Nude is an unnerving story filled with chaos, confusing characters, and immoral behaviours. It will be enjoyed by fans of My Year of Rest and Relaxation, and Boy Parts.

I really, really wanted to enjoy this. The premise, set on a Greek island with a curator who is passionate about her line of work, really interested me. In reality, I found the book very slow-paced and the stakes seemed low.

Elizabeth was a frustrating narrator and I very quickly didn’t care what happened to her or the statue. The writing was beautiful however, and I would be interested to read anything else the author publishes.

There's much material here that interests me: the business of museum antiquities acquisition and the capitalist commodification of art objects; issues of cultural appropriation and repatriation; representations of gender and sexuality; the organizing scheme of a kind of modern [book:The Magus|162853] where actions are endowed with psychological and philosophical import - and yet the whole thing didn't quite come together for me.

Partly it's the slow pace that doesn't gather the kind of momentum I wanted; partly it's the rather overdone figure of Elizabeth with her repressive self as a result of past trauma playing out in a hysterical kind of autophagy.

Nevertheless, Lindley has brought together some interesting elements, enough for me to check out what she does next.