A Review of Matthew Binder’s Pure Cosmos Club
Stalking Horse Press, 2023
The New York City art scene can be described in one word: pretentious. So let’s get as unpretentious as possible, and clarify that term with The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (my dictionary of choice), which defines the word as “making an exaggerated outward show, ostentatious.” This is an accurate depiction of what I—and maybe you—have felt and seen in visits to galleries (think of the banana taped to the wall by the artist Maurizio Cattelan, which sold for the first time at $120,000. To an art world outsider, it might seem like a clever ruse, neither ironic nor meant as commentary. Perhaps I’m being harsh, but after reading Matthew Binder’s Pure Cosmos Club, I’ve just emerged from a satirical, wonky, bizarre, eccentric, and ultimately excessive dive into the world of New York City art and high fashion.
The novel’s protagonist Paul once had a steady job working in a digital media company selling ads to potential clients, but consistently failed at trying to close the deal. Because of this, he was terminated, but didn’t tell his then-girlfriend Janie about this new fact of life. Instead, as Paul relates: “[I] got up every morning, read the news with my grapefruit and espresso, donned my work attire, and headed cheerfully off to ‘work.’ But really, I was making art in Danny’s studio.” This becomes the catalyst through which Paul becomes an artist faster than he anticipated.
For the first half of the novel, Paul and his trusted, disabled terrier-mix Blanche roam the streets of New York City getting themselves into interesting situations. In one of these, he creates a sculpture of a baby nailed to a cross made out of stolen cellphones from Best Buy. Paul brings the work to the gallery of his wealthy friend Danny, and before he leaves, he sees that the piece is tucked away in the back. As a result of this feeling of rejection, Paul meets Orsi, who introduces him to the Pure Cosmos Club, which, he suggests, might help Paul overcome his insecurities regarding his artwork, his broken relationship with his wife, and his relationship with himself.
In the Pure Cosmos Club, participants are encouraged to learn how to “transcend daily life by tapping into the universal mind.” The leader of this club simply goes by the name “James.” James is reminiscent of Robert Schuller, the television evangelist who preached the gospel in a building designed by Richard Neutra, where the pulpit was outside and the parishioners in their cars—like a drive-in. James is possessed with a “divinely conferred gift of persuasion,” as Paul puts it, and is seeking donations of up to one hundred thousand dollars. As with all great charlatans and hucksters, the trap is set, Paul is hooked, and he embarks on a mission to secure the funds. Throughout his membership with the PCB, he is eventually inspired to create another sculpture, this time with “gilded fishing rod made from toilet paper tubes, a plastic dolphin figurine, and pink dental floss.” Paul describes the piece as a symbol that “in life we are all born with a hole in our being that can’t be filled with anything but the complete abandonment of our ambitions.” Paul is the blithe and emotionally expressive character seeking acceptance not only from the outside world, but from within himself.
Part of the novel’s appeal is that its protagonist is an aspiring artist—and that we can aspire with him and watch him grow and develop. Accordingly, another big part of the novel’s appeal is that Paul can also be a gullible, naïve, and emotionally stereotypical artist for us to feel conflicted about. As Paul goes on his New York City escapades, he’s also pontificating internally about life, beauty, fame, and love. The deliberately satirical prose in Matthew Binder’s novel forces you to look at Paul as a contemporary caricature à la Don Quixote in New York City, one who goes mad not in reading novels of chivalry, but in pursuit of artistic expression. Binder’s prose is captivating and fun, whimsical and serious, hairy and nuts. But it works—the characters, the dog, the Pure Cosmos Club.
Binder’s novel is a fun and playful read that can get dense in terms of the philosophical questions of daily life, but this is sprinkled sporadically enough to allow the prose to be both enjoyable and serious. Because of this, a journey into the Pure Cosmos Club helps us realize that art and everything about it can be just as outrageous and pretentious as the artist himself, and it’s up to the viewer to see what one wishes to see—for better or for worse.
