It’s a simple exchange; but it changes everything. “This is my card,” he said. “You call me whenever you need to.” A saucy romp through the nation’s capital is the most entertaining way yet to take the topic of starving artistry to a practical, raw level. Maybe in the old days they had it right: if you want to make pure, quality art, what you need is a patron.
Two nights ago, in the wake of her father’s fatal diagnosis, Joanie Price told her husband she was leaving him in a Connecticut PC Richards, drove without a plan to DC, and didn’t tell a soul. Her husband proceeded to empty the bank accounts.
“Have you thought of how many men would enjoy your company in this town?”
And so it begins. Compulsively readable, it’s wickedly enjoyable to see ourselves in Joanie’s shoes, and as we do, her erotic experiment hurtles us through a story of self-discovery that’s transformative, witty and enduring.
