So often, I get through reading a novel, and I’m not sure
what to say about it. I know that it
took me on a journey, but how to condense that journey into a blog entry (or a
series of entries) that will resonate with the reader eludes me. I cannot claim superior wisdom upon having
finished The Sun, the Moon, & the Stars by Steven Brust, but the novel
resonated with me so powerfully that I feel I must share some of what I
experienced with you, before those initial impressions fade away.
In the story, we experience life from the point of view of
Greg, a struggling painter who values artistic accomplishment over fame and
financial success. This is not to say
that he does not want the latter, only that, with each of his paintings, he
attempts to capture a human moment, a person in transition, and draw the viewer
into the subject’s world. Up to this
point, he has sold one painting, and with the proceeds of the sale, he
purchased a six-by-nine foot stretched canvas.
For a year it has rested against a wall while he summoned the courage to
tackle it. But now, for no particular
reason, he feels ready to tackle this canvas he calls The Monster. So he and his friend pull it out, stack it on
two easels, and he begins to paint.
Greg approaches each project differently, and for The
Monster, he has no preconceived notion of the important human moment he wants
to capture. Thus, he draws upon his
past, while incorporating his present circumstances into every stroke of the
brush. By utilizing such an unfettered
approach, he knows he must always keep in mind basics like structure, form,
and perspective. But these constraints
also guide him, as he strives to impart substance upon the empty canvas.
As with any Steven Brust novel, there’s more going on than
seems immediately apparent. Each chapter
adheres to a six-part structure, and each part represents a separate
storytelling strand with its own nature and purpose. One part seems to home in on Greg’s past: all
the important incidents that led him to become an artist. Others represent his interactions with the
other members of his studio, what he views as important in art, and what he tries
to capture with each project. Through
these we learn of the differing approaches that his fellow artists employ on
their art projects, and each method is as unique as the storyteller. I say storyteller because Greg approaches
each painting in a similar manner to an author, and also because one of the six
parts is a Hungarian fairy tale about three brothers who contract with a king
to hang the sun, the moon, and the stars in the sky in return for half the
kingdom, and the hand of the princess in marriage. While each of the six strands inform each
other and form a complete narrative, I also think it would be interesting to
reread the novel, this time concentrating on only one strand at a time.
I don’t know how this novel would speak to the average
reader, but as an aspiring author, I found it fulfilling because it addressed
so many of my own feelings, dilemmas, insecurities, and aspirations. While reviews for the novel are generally
positive, some readers have complained that the novel is lacking in plot. To a certain extent they have a point. While Greg is painting, he doesn’t stumble
across a corpse and have to solve a murder.
He’s not pressed into service by a secret government agency to catch
terrorists trading in forgeries of old masters to fund their schemes of hatred
and violence. Nor does he learn that his
parents were wizards, and get whisked off to a magical university. This is a very different kind of novel, one
for anyone who has ever tried to channel all their passion for life into something
as formless as a piece of paper or canvas, and in the process hoped to make a
positive impact on others. It’s a novel
for those who paint, write, draw, make music, film, sculpt, photograph, cross-stitch, quilt, or pursue
any other art or craft (No matter how highly or lowly critics assess that particular medium) with the intention of making the recipients of their
work think, feel, or see the world a little more completely as a result of their
efforts. This isn’t a novel for
realists, skeptics, or pessimists, but one for optimists, and those who dream
about transforming their world.
I’m glad I met Greg.
I know I’m not alone, that I’ve never been alone, but having traveled on
this journey with him, I feel less alone.
I only wish I did not identify with Greg so completely. For now I'm not only determined to continue writing, but I also want to seek out and read more Hungarian fairy tales, and oh, if only I could paint like Greg!
Dragon Dave
