
The Museum of Modern Love
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Narrated by:
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Laurel Lefkow
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By:
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Heather Rose
Our hero, Arky Levin, has reached a creative dead end. An unexpected separation from his wife was meant to leave him with the space he needs to work composing film scores, but it has provided none of the peace of mind he needs to create. Guilty and restless, it is almost by chance that he stumbles upon an art exhibit that will change his life.
Based on a real piece of performance art that took place in 2010, the installation that the fictional Arky Levin discovers is inexplicably powerful. Visitors to the Museum of Modern Art sit across a table from the performance artist Marina Abramovic, for as short or long a period of time as they choose. Although some go in skeptical, almost all leave moved. And the participants are not the only ones to find themselves changed by this unusual experience: Arky finds himself returning daily. As the performance unfolds over the course of 75 days, so, too, does Arky. Connecting with other people drawn to the exhibit, he slowly starts to understand what might be missing in his life and what he must do.
This is a book about art, but it is also about success and failure, illness, death, and happiness. It's about what it means to find connection in a modern world. And most of all, it is about love, with its limitations and its transcendence.
An iBooks bestseller. Winner of the 2017 Margaret Scott Prize. Winner of the 2017 Christina Stead Prize for Fiction. Winner of the 2017 Stella Prize. Shortlisted for the Australian Literature Society's 2017 Gold Medal. Shortlisted for the 2017 University of Queensland Book Award for Fiction.
©2018 Heather Rose (P)2018 Blackstone Audio, Inc.Listeners also enjoyed...




















A beautiful meditation on art, life, and risk.
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was hoping for a happier ending
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Encourages thought about 'what is art'
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Simply Lovely
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This novel explores a real-life conceptual artist’s work. Marina Abramovic sat at a table in a New York gallery for 75 days, and hundreds of people sat across from her briefly to meet her gaze. She was “present” to strangers, and it was an event that resonated. I was surprised to hear that even my children had heard of it.
It was also, it seems, powerful for the thousands who witnessed it, and Heather Rose has set out here to transform some of that experience from the performance genre to the novel.
As a result, this is both an effort to reclaim Abramovic’s original experiment – what does it feel like to be present for anyone who comes before you? – and an experiment in genre. It’s a little bit of what O’Hara was doing in trying to bring a painting into his poem.
I love that ambition, and I love that this novel works as well as it does to make Abramovic’s work resonate. I don’t know whether I’d have been moved by the actual experience of it, but I do know that I appreciate having it brought to me through multiple perspectives – including Abramovic’s own (thought much of that, I gather, is fictionalized from her biography).
Conceptually, then, this is more than worth it.
As a novel itself, though, it has its ups and downs. Our main protagonist is a composer of movie soundtracks. And, as such, he is himself invested in the work of transforming the images of cinema art into musical art.
Arky Levin is carrying a deep sadness. His best friend and closest collaborator has died in a recent car accident, and his wife is slowly dying from a wasting neurological disease. What’s more, because she remembers how devastated her father was when her mother died in similar fashion, she has fashioned a legal care document that denies him access to her. She’s left him all the money and resources he needs to continue his art, but he’s not allowed to come see her.
I get why that situation has emotional power here – and I get that it sets up an emotionally effective conclusion when [SPOILER:] Levin finally insists on visiting his nearly unconscious wife and being fully present for her as Abramovic has been for him – but I can’t escape the deeply contrived nature of it. The genuine power that Rose gives this is diminished by the clear artificiality of the barriers she’s thrown up for Levin.
There are a range of other characters too, most prominently a gentle woman from the South who’s lost her husband to cancer and sought distraction in New York. I love the way she and Levin bond over watching Abramovic watch others, and I love the way Rose conjures a sense of community among those who have been moved by the experience.
That said, though, I think the second half of this begins to run a little out of steam. The intense focus of the beginning, when Levin and his new friend forge a connection of mourners who can’t quite name their pain, gives way to other sub-plots that deal more with the world of art, its making, and its marketing. The characters that emerge there are ones, as I see it, who are less affected by the experience of the art than by the work of creating it. All that still works, but without quite the same beautiful edge of the opening chapters.
In any case, this is certainly a strong and moving work. It’s a reminder of how hard it is to open yourself to another’s pain, and that’s worth exploring in every medium we have.
The Art of Presence
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Loved it!
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Art and fiction, working it out
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A grown up book for grown up people.
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The writing goes from brutal to lyrical.
As much as I appreciated the literary quality, and it definitely feels like literature, the brutality of some of the performance pieces as well as historical references of war, coupled with the lack of connection I felt with any of the characters, led me to feel as detached about the book as the writer seemed to feel about it herself.
The protagonist, a composer named Arky Levin, is wracked with deep confusion. This inner cacophony is counterpointed with the incredible grounded stability of the artist who sits all day looking at various people who come to sit across from her.
I gave it four stars because it’s worthwhile, highly intelligent and studded with myriad historial, musical, film, literary and art related references all of which make it interesting, even compelling at times, but I would never say I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was enriching, if a bit of a slog sometimes.
Deep literary dive into a major performance artist
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Love life art
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