This book is a good mystery, set in the world of high-brow art. But there is also some reflection on creativity, how it can be impacted by fame and fortune, how even when you turn down the fortune it can still affect you.

In the background is the art collector, the man with the money. The artist and the art critic are at the center of this book. They twist themselves in circles, purposely refusing to jump when the collector says jump, yet somehow the collector always gets what he wants, even if it damages the others.

It's a pretty quick read, but also has some depth, some thought-provoking situations. And at the end, after all the chicanery and dodges and deceit, there is a genuine, emotional gesture.

As other reviewers have mentioned, there is a chapter, 18 "pages" long on my kindle, that describes the fictional artistic style "Nihilistic Surrealism". This is espoused by the art critic character in one long burst of cryptic metaphors and meaningless phrases. Unless you find humor in this, it's pretty boring.

Skim this chapter if you must, but don't let it discourage you from continuing with the book. I assure you, the rest of the book is not like that one chapter. Think of it as a taste of the stultifying world these people work in.

3 stars because it's worth reading and kept me engaged. But although it's good, it's not "great".

It's truly hard to believe that this story was sold to Hollywood. One can only imagine that the screenplay bears only minimal relation to the book. One literally doesn't know where to start with the criticism. An artist who everyone admires but has had only one poorly attended show in an obscure gallery featuring a single piece of work. He became legendary and universally admired. Huh? So much wrong with the story and the story telling. An obsessed critic, a lost woman wandering Europe far from her teaching job in Minnesota, a cryptic artist, a lustful dealer. It just didn't hold me. And for those reading the book after seeing the movie, as I did, the book is set in Florida, not on Lake Como in Italy.

I barely know where to start. Easily my read of the year.

A writer friend got me (finally) reading Willeford, I think they might have seen something familiar in my work. So I went through all the Hoke Moseley books. When I began The Burnt Orange Heresy, I knew I'd be in for some Willeford quirkiness, but I had simply no idea the ride I was in for.

There is a huge caveat here, or a couple. One, Willeford has become one of my favourite writers, and I would pay twenty bucks to read his grocery list. Two, I am a graduate of art college, studying art history, and them become a professional illustrator, and then designer.

Caveat two is of note, as this book spirals deep into a sub-culture that I actually know quite well—or remembered anyway, as it has been years since I studied these art movements. Truthfully, this book might bore the sh*t out of some readers. In one of the Hoke books, Willeford goes off a tangent about Ethiopian dragonflies, or worms, or something. I recall reading it and wondering, "is he putting me on?" In TBOH, he goes one better as he has the main character wax on for pages and pages about Dada, Surrealism, and fictionalize painter whose work somehow bridges the two movements.

Because of my background in art history, I recognized when Willeford weaved in and out of facts. Such as Gauguin's reason for going to Tahiti, or Rothko's use of numbers when naming his paintings. There's also extensive history on underground art movements, Duchamp and Dadaists, Picasso shows up, and many more. The fiction lies in how all these different artists owe a debt to Willeford's creation, Jacques Debierue.

Now this review might have already put you to sleep. But here is the thing, this novel is incredibly gripping. The language skates close to purple prose, but never falls into it. Willeford describes clothing, bodily appearances, cityscapes, and hell, I was even interested in how he described a drab hotel room. I kept asking myself why was this book so fascinating?

Being Willeford, the story begins a slow escalation towards a climax that would make Quentin Tarantino sit on the edge of his seat (QT is a fan of CF.) No spoilers, but let's just say a chase through the dark woods and into an "inky" Florida swamp. Willeford loves words like inky, and I already know I'll be stealing that. Oh, and one of the characters has a ten-inch tire iron, and it isn't be used to change a flat.

So many times I laughed out loud at the outlandishness of the book. The most unreliable, pompous narrator ever, who I wanted to show at, "Listen to yourself talk, GOOD GOD MAN!"

I'll leave it there. I'm blown away, and you might be too. Or you might be bored. I dunno.
I'm sadly running out of Willeford books.

I remember reading this book because the poet Michael Weaver (not the well-known poet Michael Weaver but another Michael Weaver from San Diego) spoke so highly of the author.

So I read the book.

Then I too spoke highly of this author.

When a really smart writer takes on a genre populated by mostly cloneish writers, magic happens.

This author makes magic happen...over and over.

Dark. Brill. Great summer reading.

01/2020

From 1971
This is a remarkable book. All about art history. With a fictional artist, Debierue, and his fictional movement, Nihilistic Surrealism. This novel is so completely entertaining in every detail, that I forgot to expect there to be a murder. There is.
Willeford wrote many books,from the 1950s to the 1980s. They are rarely the same.

Along with Donald Westlake and Agatha Christie, Willeford ranks among my all-time favorite crime writers— but does this, his most compact and most bewildering book, qualify as crime? There’s some shady stuff in it to be sure, but the book is not a procedural nor even a mystery. Instead, it’s a witheringly funny commentary on the nature of conceptual art and art criticism. There are so many layers of meta humor that I suspect a lot of readers don’t even register it as a comedy, at least not at first, but there’s really no better way to take this wonderful pileup of absurdities. It’s also very philosophical— if critics provide the meaning to a piece of art, is the art itself even necessary? That’s just one of the beguiling questions at the center of this rich, strange, utterly readable little novel, nearly as essential as Willeford’s Hoke Moseley books.

This is my first exposure to Charles Willeford's work and what I read is not exactly a crime novel. Oh, there's a murder victim here, arson, theft. But what it is is a take on the art world: critics, artists, collectors, and their sphere of existence.

Jacques Figueras is the art critic pushed into stealing from a reclusive painter.

First Willeford, but not likely my last.

Been meaning to read this one for a while. It fits in my back pocket, so I thought it would be good to take on my trip to Monterey/Big Sur. Charles Willeford is continually fascinating as a writer. There is nothing flashy about this book at all, but it is fantastic. His characters can always rationalize any ridiculous or insane action. This book's protagonist is no exception to that rule. Perhaps the most interested thing of all to me in Willeford's late writings (say this one and the Hoke Moseley stuff) is his characters' insistence on wearing jumpsuits. I don't know, that's just weird and wonderful to me. Apparently, they are very handy to wear and comfortable. Definitely a great, short read from a master of American fiction.

This is one of Charles Willeford's least appreciated novels, but it deserves more praise and more credit for its wildly original and adventurous blend of noir and art criticism. Yes, that's right. An art critic is the narrator here! And the masterful way in which Willeford blends tough guy dialogue with the pretentious world of art criticism is not only fascinating to read, but compulsively entertaining if you have one foot in each of these worlds. There is, of course, the wonderfully pitch-dark Willeford humor -- particularly one funny story involving the ashes of two dead wives mixed in the same jar. As well as one of the most hilarious sex scenes I've read in a while, which is -- in and of itself -- a loving nod to David Goodis's obsession with large women. And the ending is also very clever without being pretentious. It honors the protagonist's temperament and puts a perfect close on the proceedings. I fucking love Charles Willeford. He's one of the most original crime fiction writers of all time. And THE BURNT ORANGE HERESY really deserves more love!

Charles Willeford where have you been my whole life?

A nasty, little gem. As much a commentary on criticism and art as a character study and dark thriller.

A lot of times when a writer attempts to delve into an exotic arena (in this case, the art world), even with research, the setting can come off more as how the writer wants the art world to be or how he/she thinks it is (This is best illustrated by the "punk rock" episode of "T.J. Hooker". The 50 year-old writer had obviously read an article in time on "punkers" and used that as the entire basis for his representation, failing miserably).

So when you read a book where the writer is obviously someone writing within an arena they know, the detail and depth glows. Who knew that Willeford had a thesis on the nature of art criticism in him?

This is also the best written book, purely in terms of language, that I have read by Willeford. Spare, but descriptive. Poetic, yet stern.

Deserves to be consideredthe classic that it is.

This was my first Charles Willeford book and because of this book, he will be included as one of my favorite mystery and thriller authors for writing this neo-noir femme fatale murder mystery set in the art world, that is now a major motion picture by Sony Pictures Classics.

The Burnt Orange Heresy is a classic book about greed, ambition and obsession - a play on the human psyche on what motivates people to risk it all only to gain power, fame, and fortune. This is a quick read that is written in three parts. This book was simply irresistible and moved fast - so fast the crime is a gut wrenching punch. Each of the characters were developed well and in a short book, delivered a tight plot that will keep you guessing.

I highly recommend this book and then watch the movie too because it was absolutely fascinating.