Pictures of You: Quick Write-up

I don’t usually have a hard time reviewing ARCS, but this one is a tough cookie to talk about. I didn’t go in thinking it was going to be another ‘Incidents’ or ‘Birdbox,’ no, I knew it was going to be a left-field type play. Firstly, hats off to Malerman for trying something different, swinging hard at catching a new angle for a story. I don’t mind a slow burn. I mean, the vast majority of stories have to have some kind of set-up in order to pay off, right? Plus, I think slow burn is mostly used to describe a lack of attention on the reader’s behalf. And yeah, this one is set up that way, where it really starts to come into focus around the 75% mark. No problem getting there if I have something to enjoy along the way: good dialogue, characterization, setting, a heartbeat leading somewhere, you know. But most of that was, in my opinion, totally lacking. Jack and Emily didn’t have to be likeable, that’s not the issue. It’s that they didn’t feel fleshed out, like the author knew them intimately but didn’t put that on the page. They were unbelievable, had no real agency, were oblivious to the circumstances they found themselves in. And yeah, they were totally in love but I didn’t see that anywhere, didn’t feel that. The last 25% is good, and I’d encourage readers to finish. Whether you agree with the ideas regarding art or not, there’s lots of food for thought. I think this would have been a banger of a novella. The novel form here feels much too padded and monotonous. There are three lines that I think sum up this story without any spoilers. 1. ‘An artist didn’t have to speak directly, could Trojan horse themes, could pretend they were telling a story about a painter while telling a whole other story altogether.’ 2. Love is inspiration, and that can never happen. 3. ‘The only thing worse than not encouraging is discouraging.’

The ending is good, which to me makes it worth reading. For some strange reason it reminded me of ‘Searching for Bobby Fisher’ and ‘Whiplash.’ But if I had to give it a quick pitch I’d call it: Amadeus meets Misery in Michigan.

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