The Burnt Orange Heresy: I finally got around to reading this Charles Williford novel because I know there’s a film coming out in the new year. Besides it has sly nods to Beckett, art and art history, and a caper plot, so what’s not to love? I did enjoy Miami Blues though I haven’t seen it in years. There’s a lot going on here: Tom Ripley may think forgeries are better than originals, but James Figueras thinks critics are more important than artists. He’s so smug, ambitious, misogynist and misanthropic that you know he’s going to take the too-good-to-be-true opportunity that comes along to gain access to the reclusive artist who will cement his standing as the critic nonpareil—even if the price is stealing one of his paintings for an avaricious collector.

Maybe I’ve read too many post-modern twists; I started seeing clues dropped to a twist…