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This book is confusing, and for that reason I’m loath to recommend it.

But it really resonated with me, there were some universal truths that stuck out, like:

“To get to the destination your inner compass has been driving you back to, screaming it was home, only to discover that you don’t really belong.”

Things change. But not in your mind. History is set in stone. And you think if you just went back to that location, hooked up with your old love, it would work and…

Too much time has gone by. You’ve changed and they’ve changed. No matter how much you will yourself, it doesn’t work.

So, what we’ve got here is two parallel narratives that ultimately connect.

First we’ve got Anita de Monte and her husband Jack Martin. Martin is a famous minimalist. de Monte is a fiery artist. And the result is a tempestuous relationship.

The book starts with a party. Jack enters and seeks attention, that’s his style, and then Anita dances and…she goes out the window? At the party? She was drunk?

It clears up, but you have to keep reading. And then you’re still not sure what happened until you are.

So therefore, if you need to know exactly what is happening at all times, this book is not for you.

The other half of the story is about art history students at Brown.

Art history is the laughingstock of college majors these days. Even though we all live for art. It’s the books, the movies, the TV shows, the paintings that get us through. But art is hard to quantify. You can’t give an objective test. Opinion is crucial. Better to major in science or math where it’s either black or white, right or wrong, and there’s a clear path to a career.

But that is not an element in this book. Furthermore, the art history majors believe they’ve got a future in the field.

So Raquel is a woman of color from NYC. Her mother works at the Met, but it’s in food service, not as a curator. And Raquel is smart and ends up with a scholarship to Brown and…is angry that everybody believes she’s an affirmative action admission, even though she’s got the grades. In a world where not only is everybody white, but many are from the prep school world, and rich. Does she fit in?

Raquel’s friend Denise got a full ride at Notre Dame, but passed that up for a state school, SUNY Buffalo. Turns out Denise was not eager to go where she was one of the very few minorities, she didn’t want to feel like a fish out of water. As for Raquel, does being at Brown change her, forever?

Now Raquel’s story goes deeper into art history, and school. The professor…is he coming on to her or not? Is he an object of respect or scorn?

And then there’s the sh*t talking about academics who have different viewpoints.

Sounds like an insular world, I know. But Jack is a big swinging dick in the art world, and that’s all he needs, the respect of these people. Art at that level of success is a rarefied air, with sometimes billions of dollars involved. Just because everybody doesn’t know your name, that does not mean you’re not a big name where it counts.

And the question arises whether Jack is past his prime. This is a thorn in the side of elite artists. You’re famous for one thing, but if you don’t change, and grow, you lose status. Braque was right up there with Picasso at the advent of cubism. But Picasso evolved and Braque didn’t, and other than students of the game, most people have no idea who Braque was. The recently deceased Frank Stella burst on the scene at a young age with his protractor series. He moved on, but nothing he did thereafter titillated the critics to the same degree.

Once again, this is fine art. This isn’t drawings for TV. It’s not only what you see…then again, is it? The conception is almost as important as the execution. Which many people who go to the museum don’t understand. They look at the old masters and can see all the talent on the canvas and then they might even look at a Stella and not get it, after all, Stella couldn’t even draw.

So, once again, there’s little concentration on art history studies in the news, other than denigration. But Raquel is dedicated and…

A lot of questions arise. And a lot learning how the world truly works. Relationships. There’s an elite level of communication that most people in America still don’t understand, even though they think they do. You can view the houses on “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,” watch MTV “Cribs,” yet not even know that many of the truly rich don’t want the publicity, they’re unknown to the masses, and have much more money than those flaunting it. Furthermore, how did they get there?

You can go to Yale, be exposed to it all and still graduate and remain broke.

In other words, you have to work it. Kind of like Hollywood, but in most verticals there are barriers to entry. The elite education, access to vast sums of money… That’s why you go to the Ivys, for the people you meet more than what you learn. Chances are, the classes are just as good at the state school.

“I already knew how important it is for an artist to protect their time; time, that critical thing required to think and ponder and question and perfect.”

This is what non-artists don’t understand. They go to work from nine to five, or nine to nine, or even nine to midnight and they can quantify what they’ve done whereas an artist…might have read, might have gone for a walk… An artist’s mind needs to percolate, unfiltered.

Which is why I’m always amazed at these partnerships where two people have an office with desks shoved up against each other. How can they get anything done? To create art you need silence, you need to be alone. You need to think. You’ve got to get in the zone, you can’t be interrupted. And non-artists have a hard time understanding this.

Once again, I’m talking about art, not commerce. There’s a ton of money in making records, painting, selling stuff…but does it change the culture, does it make people think? Sure, ideas come to you spontaneously, but usually you need to get into the right headspace.

And then there’s this:

“Art is, if nothing else, always about the next thing.”

This is what I was writing about the other day. You have to keep on moving forward, that’s what an artist does. And that’s ultimately what the audience demands. But it’s so challenging, it’s easier to repeat yourself. Also, what outsiders don’t understand is the high of success doesn’t last very long. An award? Maybe a day or two, not even a week. You have to get back to the work.

“Or maybe I’d go to a party and get drunk and cause an argument just to feel like I’d made a dent in someone else’s existence.”

Most artists are not easygoing, they’re not well adjusted and they need to know they’re alive and have you recognize it. So when you go to a party and encounter that edgy artist that makes a scene… Or even when you ask for an autograph or selfie… Once again, it’s about time. But also, the artist knows the experience is hollow, ultimately worthless. It might be about building or maintaining your brand, but do you think Van Morrison thinks about that? Many of the performers who are constantly thanking their fans are not artists, they’re ultimately business people, very successful financially, but not artists.

So most people don’t care about the art history field.

And other than the artists themselves, and some gallerists, there’s not a ton of money in the art world. There are a few jobs running museums, but they don’t pay the kind of money you make in Silicon Valley, never mind Wall Street. You’ve got to love it, you consider it meaningful.

I was an art history major. And what it created in me was a sensibility.

Also, I went to a college where forty five percent of the people went to prep school, and many of them came from rich families, VERY rich. One of the things I learned most at Middlebury was how to interact with these people. I came from the melting pot suburbs. Everybody verbal, throwing sharp elbows to get ahead. Meanwhile, so many of the prepsters were mellow, took it all in stride, it was a completely different attitude. And if you wanted to befriend them, you had to adjust your behavior.

I recently went to my college reunion, and two months later I’m still not over this experience. These students were satisfied. They might not be household names, but they’re pillars of their community, they feel accomplished. Me, not only am I still trying to work it out, I’m still not sure I’m worthy.

In their world.

And Raquel is always asking herself this question.

As for Anita? Can a woman from Cuba be respected for her art? Just by being married to a famous artist is her work pooh-poohed, and does her husband want to hold her back?

And there are many ways to hold someone back, you can read about them in the book.

But I read “Anita de Monte Laughs Last” because the reviews said she did, last laugh, that is. And she kind of does. And that’s obvious from the very beginning.

But how does that happen? What happens between the covers?

As much as “Anita de Monte Laughs Last” is set in the modern world, it’s also one step removed. Because art always is. And if you think raw quality will get you to the top…you just haven’t met enough of the people who decide whether you make it to the top.

So I don’t think this book is for everyone. But it made me think. I could relate. It created a whole world separate from my everyday existence, and I liked that.

So…maybe you’re intrigued.

Or not.