Optic Nerve
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4.1 • 16 Ratings
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- $11.99
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- $11.99
Publisher Description
"In this delightful autofiction―the first book by Gainza, an Argentine art critic, to appear in English―a woman delivers pithy assessments of world–class painters along with glimpses of her life, braiding the two into an illuminating whole." ―The New York Times Book Review, Notable Book of the Year and Editors' Choice
The narrator of Optic Nerve is an Argentinian woman whose obsession is art. The story of her life is the story of the paintings, and painters, who matter to her. Her intimate, digressive voice guides us through a gallery of moments that have touched her.
In these pages, El Greco visits the Sistine Chapel and is appalled by Michelangelo’s bodies. The mystery of Rothko’s refusal to finish murals for the Seagram Building in New York is blended with the story of a hospital in which a prostitute walks the halls while the narrator’s husband receives chemotherapy. Alfred de Dreux visits Géricault’s workshop; Gustave Courbet’s devilish seascapes incite viewers “to have sex, or to eat an apple”; Picasso organizes a cruel banquet in Rousseau’s honor . . . All of these fascinating episodes in art history interact with the narrator’s life in Buenos Aires―her family and work; her loves and losses; her infatuations and disappointments. The effect is of a character refracted by environment, composed by the canvases she studies.
Seductive and capricious, Optic Nerve marks the English–language debut of a major Argentinian writer. It is a book that captures, like no other, the mysterious connections between a work of art and the person who perceives it.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Gainza's phenomenal first work to be translated into English is a nimble yet momentous novel about the connection between one woman's personal life and the art she observes. The book is composed of episodes in the life of Mar a, who lives in Buenos Aires, often beginning with an anecdote about someone she knows before brilliantly finding an associative link to a work of art, then delving into the backstory of the artwork and the artist before coming full circle to how it all makes sense in Maria's life. In one chapter, Mar a's observation of the sea prompts her to consider Gustave Courbet's seascapes ("his water was fossil-like: a slab of malachite rent hard across the middle"), before connecting the thread to her enigmatic cousin. In another chapter, Mar a's fear of flying keeps her from attending a prestigious art convention and leads her to mull over Henri Rousseau's ability to venture beyond his limitations to shape avant-garde art. Tsuguharu Foujita's artistic decline is juxtaposed against Mar a's longtime friend Alexia's unrealized artistic potential. There are many pleasures in Gainza's novel: its clever and dynamic structure, its many aper us ("happiness interests only those who experience it; nobody can be moved by the happiness of others"), and some of the very best writing about art around. With playfulness and startling psychological acuity, Gainza explores the spaces between others, art, and the self, and how what one sees and knows form the ineffable hodgepodge of the human soul. The result is a transcendent work.
