'What I’m trying to say is I understood what I was allowing to happen,' Wilhelmina Miles narrates in Julie Buntin’s second novel, Famous Men, moments before she follows the much older Nathaniel Fellow up to his apartment. In other words: It’s more complicated than it looks ... Is it ever, though? Reading Buntin’s magnificent, absorbing portrait of the ensuing, yearslong relationship between this 'great American writer' and his naïve, debt-laden employee feels like holding one of those lenticular 3-D baseball cards in your hand. From one angle the narrative invites murky, shades-of-gray interpretations of victimhood and consent, shame and ambition; but tilt the book a few degrees and the image of this age-chasm relationship is as black-and-white as they come ... The beauty in this novel is in how Buntin tells it ... This is a wickedly precise rendering of a young, self-destructive heroine worshiping at the altar of a false idol — and narrated in hindsight, from her later, more perspicacious vantage.
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