Original Color

Hugh Kennedy's Original Color, originally published over 10 years ago, holds up well with time. The insanity and greed in the luxury art and antique trade still continues at break-neck speed with little rationality. I will discuss four points regarding the novel: Kennedy's witty fast paced writing style, character development in this novel, the gay lifestyle reflected here, and the art market world reflected in the novel. Hugh Kennedy has a sharp wit and produces witty bursts of energy in the 50 short chapters. The novel is ironic and clever. The narrative is developed more as a string of events in which character is developed rather than the development of complex plots or conceptions. Yet, the character development is very well done with characters seen in their absurdity but also with enough vulnerability and detail so that no one is a villian, and characters are seen as multi-dimensional with competing impulses. Thus, there is very little plot. This is more coming of age and maturity story of a 22 year old man coming in terms with his own powers of thought and persuasion, exploring his sexuality, and grounding himself in his own ethical code. The gay lifestyle is a side-story, never predominant but seen as part of this young man's maturation and development. It is with a male sex partner/friend that Fred, the protagonist, is able to reflect on what he is becoming, where he is going, and whether he should be doing in that direction. He also does this with his Jewish co-worker college friend, demonstrating the supportive role that many gay men receive from heterosexual women friends. An underlying theme to the work however is the forces of greed, speculation, and financial judgement. Price is a very flexible variable in this novel, rising quickly with the disposible income of the client and their subjective assessment of thier own self-image, their personal tastes, and their vulnerability to flattery. We see that many purchases are efforts to identify and establish the self-concept of the purchaser. Kennedy captures this well in both his new rich and old money characters, for they are both vulnerable to the need to self-define. For those who can not self-define through their work, the need to self-define through their tastes and purchases increases. Kennedy gets it down.

Original Color is one of the funniest books I've ever read, rarely can a book make you laugh out loud but this one does from beggining to end.

Hugh Kennedy has written a witty send-up of the East Coast art scene. With deft descriptions, he filets posturing art dealers and their calculating clients in this tale of recent college grad Fred's first job with a Boston print dealer. I stayed up late into the night, unable to stop turning the pages that recount Fred's amorous encounters and at times hair-raising adventures. Each chapter is like a fine truffle, its dark smooth chocolate laced with unexpected essences.

When brokers of fine art conduct business like purveyors of pork bellies, it has a way of turning expectations upside down. Kennedy's sharp wit makes the fiftysome short chapters of Original Color fly by like a series of funny vignettes you might overhear in a crowded theater. The fast-paced story quickly draws the reader into the life of Fred Layton, a socially ambitious ivy leaguer struggling to find his niche in the world. The hero's preconceptions of WASPy gentility in all matters artistic are thrown out of balance when he gets a job working for The Most Vulgar Man on Earth. Through a suite of outrageous encounters with the charismatic but revolting art dealer, his colleagues and clients, Layton manages to get a grip on his own social and professional integrity

I devoured Original Color in two (late) nights. Kennedy's rendered a hilarious world of vivid and witty print dealers "catering" (really, scamming) blue bloods. Not only funny, though; the fine light sentimentality is exquisite. His world's dangled in front of the reader like a candy - stiring up the reader's hunger to be in that world. And Kennedy delivers solidly. I'll never again be able to look at copper plate print of an English fox hunt without thinking about cardiologists taking tax write-offs.