As an antidote to the last book I read, I picked up An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin not really knowing what to expect.
From the first sentence:
"I am so tired, so very tired of thinking about Lacey Yeager, yet I worry that unless I write her story down, and see it bound and tidy on my bookshelf, I will be unable to ever write about anything else."
to one near the end of the first short chapter:
"When she left a room, there was a moment of deflation while we all returned to normal life."
I was captured.
Set in the New York artworld of the 1990s, I was initially drawn by the idea of a glimpse into this fabulous world. I can't wait to settle down later today and start reading.