If the promotional copy on the back cover and inside blurb page didn’t proclaim that SOHO SINS was author Richard Vine’s debut novel, you’d never know from reading it. Rarely has a first novel shown such confidence in its prose and such insight into its characters and setting. You’d swear it was the work of a seasoned novelist with national renown.

But these traits did not come naturally. Vine has been the managing editor of the respected fine arts publication, ART IN AMERICA, for several years. So he knows what makes good writing and he has an intimate knowledge of the New York art scene of the 1990s, the setting of this first work of fiction.

Amanda and Philip Oliver were always the art scene’s golden couple. They were renowned as generous donors and supporters of galleries and museums all over New York City, and were on the governing board of numerous arts oriented organizations, when they weren’t busy buying and collecting art themselves.

So the art scene was shocked when Amanda Oliver was found murdered in her SoHo loft. Adding to the shock was the near instantaneous confession from Philip that he killed his wife. But Philip’s degenerative mental health, along with the irrefutable fact that he was on the other side of the country at the time of Amanda’s death, prevent him from being the prime suspect.

Art dealer Jackson “Jack” Wyeth, a close friend of the Olivers for many years and the narrator of the novel, is enlisted to find the truth and reveal the real killer. But his search takes him behind the glitz and glamour of high society and into the dark corners where sex and death are easy subjects for what some call “art.”

Vine opens with Jack’s recollection of his immediate reaction when he first learned of Amanda’s death. At once we know we are in the company of man whose self-awareness is as piercing as his insights into contemporary art – the world that provides his income as well as most of his associates and friends. As events unfold Jack continues to recall and comment on his thoughts and emotions, both at the moment they occurred and how they changed with the passing of time. Jack also recalls his past, when he and Philip were beginning their careers and lives as adults.

The seamless way Vine weaves these numerous memories and reflections into Jack’s narration, without diminishing the pace or losing track to the plot, is one of the joys of reading the novel.

Yet Jack is not ignorant of the commerce side of the art world; nor is he blind to the oddities of performance art or the seedier themes of sex and violence that are often the “acquired tastes” of much contemporary art. Indeed when Jack follows the lead of one particular suspect it takes him to places far removed from the upscale shops and restaurants of his SoHo environment.

Still for all its urbanity, SOHO SINS is at heart a murder mystery. Here too Vine shows a impressive grasp of how such mysteries progress, with the various clues that Jack explores as well as the theories of who the killer might be that Jack discusses with the private investigator hired by the Oliver’s lawyers. Along the way Jack re-exams his relationship with Philip’s two ex-wives and Philip’s young daughter as she dives headlong into womanhood. The final resolution, held out until the very last chapters, is both unexpected and unsettling.

Don’t let unfamiliarity with the art world prevent you from enjoying this impressive first work. Any lack of knowledge quickly passes as Vine immerses you into the thick of Jack’s investigations and the world he lives and works in.

We may have seen the last of Jackson Wyeth, but let’s hope we can look forward to more of Richard Vine as he embarks on this new phase of his writing career. —Alan Cranis

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