When I finished The Arts Council, a satirical novel by Dolly Gray Landon, I felt like I’d been dropped into a carnival mirror version of the arts world. The book follows Honorée Oinkbladder, a gifted young artist raised inside a family business that quietly manufactures the physical tokens of achievement for institutions everywhere. Through her eyes, we watch a small city’s arts ecosystem twist itself into a tangle of ego, corruption, favoritism, and theatrical self-importance. Her tense rivalry with Modesty Greedance unfolds against a backdrop of inflated awards, misused donor funds, and a once-noble arts council that has drifted far from its original ideals. The result is a story that sits squarely in the literary satire genre, though it often reads like a character-driven dramedy with teeth.

The writing is lush, verbose in a way that feels deliberate, like Landon wants the excess itself to be part of the joke. There are long, winding sentences loaded with wordplay and invented terms, and then sudden needle pricks of clarity. It’s funny, but also strange, because the humor is threaded through moments that cut close to the bone: the way Honorée hides her beauty so she won’t attract the wrong kind of attention, or the way Modesty relies on spectacle instead of craft because spectacle is what the system rewards. The satire bites hardest when the book peels back the arts council’s history, revealing how a once-merit-driven institution slowly rotted after a leadership collapse. The contrast between past ideals and current dysfunction is one of the book’s most memorable tensions.

What I liked most was how much the novel asks us to think about value. Who gets to decide what counts as art. Who benefits from the illusion of fairness. Who learns to play the game and who refuses. Even the absurd elements feel purposeful: Honorée’s family literally manufactures the symbols that feed inflated egos, yet they see through them more clearly than anyone else. That irony gives the book a reflective core I didn’t expect. The novel also manages to be playful without losing its edge. It mocks the arts world, yes, but it also mourns what the arts can become when honesty gives way to self-interest. I found myself chuckling at one page and nodding in recognition on the next.

The Arts Council is a bold, brainy satire with a lot on its mind. I’d recommend it to readers who enjoy literary fiction that doesn’t mind being a little unruly, especially anyone curious about the messy intersection of art, ego, and institutions. If you like stories that mix humor with critique and aren’t afraid of dense, stylized prose, this one will keep you thinking. For readers who enjoy sharp, offbeat takes on creative culture, it’s a fascinating ride.

Pages: 558 | ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0G2TFBLHZ