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There is something about Russell Smith's writing that enrages people. He reliably produces shimmering fiction--and one of the
Globe and Mail's few consistently intelligent columns--but he is still unfairly pressed into service as a whipping-boy for all sorts of social ills: Torontocentrism, conceptual art, leather trousers.
Muriella Pent, a novel that returns to the Torontonian arts scene that established Smith as a serious fiction writer, may not win him many new friends, but it should delight his fans.
The book's plot doesn't so much develop as slump into compulsively readable entropy. Muriella Pent, an enviably wealthy socialite widow with a mysterious Montreal pedigree, busies herself in the wake of her unimpeachable husband's death with the usual arty occupations of Toronto's upper crust: sitting on committees, dabbling in writing, and raising funds for various worthy causes. In a moment of exuberance, she volunteers to house a writer-in-residence on behalf of the City Arts Board Action Council. The writer that they produce, a Caribbean poet named Marcus Royston (who hasn't published poetry in close to 20 years) meets the Council's politically correct yardsticks on paper, but proves to be a charming, libidinous, and big-mouthed aesthete. Royston has little time for the niceties of Toronto arts-politics, and promptly sets to offending--or seducing--everyone in sight, including his formerly straitlaced hostess. Soon, Muriella is not only hosting a writer, but allowing her mansion to be used for nude photography, scorched-plastic sculpture, and all-night parties complete with diplomats, DJs, and gossip columnists. Smith also graces the book with a subplot involving two University of Toronto classmates--Brian Sillwell, another member of the Action Council, and Julia Sternberg, a young friend of Muriella's--whose constricted and largely sexless lives are considerably changed by an acquaintance with Royston.
Muriella Pent is Smith's first full-blown novel since Noise, and it outshines its predecessors in almost every respect. His prose has grown richer, and his characters largely transcend their status as satirical grotesques. Traces of Evelyn Waugh's influence are still everywhere, and Smith does well by them, moving into a mode of outrageous but sombre satire that stands up to a book like Vile Bodies quite nicely. Readers who have dismissed Smith as a fashionista or a glib hipster-novelist should read Muriella Pent and reconsider their position; those who already know that he is one of Canada's smoothest and funniest urban storytellers can brace themselves for another bravura performance. --Jack Illingworth
Review
“Smith has an insider’s knowledge of what the targets are and the outsider’s sense of where the absurdities lie.” --
The Globe and Mail