This actually was just a book I downloaded to get approval from the publisher, and not a book I actually reviewed. Sorry I can't review this title.

Oh, I’m the first one to review this. Lovely. So it’s been some time and I was craving a proper work of literature. This one had the added bonus of introducing the readers to a not so well known artist. One I’ve never heard of until reading this book. Agnes Pelton (1881 to 1961) was a genuine artist in that her entire life was about her art. She never married, seemingly going through life sustained only by familial affection and numerous friendships, one was of a one sided unrequited variety, but that’s it. Seems kind of sad for 79 years, but Agnes doesn’t seem to have thought so. She was born into a family ravaged by a famous scandal and raised abroad until settling in Brooklyn in her grandmother’s place. Raised mostly by her mother, theirs was a close relationship of a bygone era variety. It’s no longer quite so socially acceptable, but Agnes lived with her mother on and off until well into adulthood and was supported by her mother’s Pelton music school’s proceeds for ages. All the while, encouraged by her mother, Agnes pursued her art, stateside and abroad, achieving some small degrees of success and recognition. It’s an interesting life for the sheer fact that it spans decades and covers the social scene and various luminaries of the artistic world of the times. And then, much like the more famous Georgia ‘Keefe, the desert. Very enjoyable from a historical fiction perspective. But…here comes the but…for all its lovely language and real life events and people, it’s much too mild of a read to be genuinely exciting. Much like its protagonist, the book is pleasant, but tepid. Maybe art alone isn’t enough to sustain it as it seems to do Agnes. Maybe she’s just too mild and meek of a character. I’m not sure, but after a while the book was kind of dragging its artistically lovely feet. Something about the pace, not quite slow per se, more like languorous. Certainly consistent with the time and general mood, but not ideal for audience engagement. And no, I’m not saying it needed to have a passionate love affair or two to spice things up, but maybe something…something more. It was interesting for what it was, something that inspires like, but not love. Emotionally aloof, much like its subject, but worth a read, especially for fans of (art related) historical fiction. So of course after reading the book I checked out Pelton’s art and actually it’s pretty good, I like abstractions and the use of colors. I don’t think knowing the story behind the art helps in the appreciation of it, per se, it stands very much on its own. Not the best thing ever, not like Pelton’s inspiration Kandinsky, but quite good it its own right. That was an interesting discovery. Thanks Netgalley.