Plague’s debut is designed nearly to death and mocks the minor talents of the art school set. Ollister (spelled with a Greek Omega as the O
), the enfant terrible of Uni-Arts College, and Adelaide, his ex-girlfriend, find themselves in the clutches of Platypus, the “ruler of the local art scene,” who, convinced that the secret to Ollister’s genius lies in Ollister’s journal, turns the former lovers against one another in hopes of securing the notebook. This sets off a chain of near catastrophes overseen by Punk, Ollister’s dim-witted punk rocker henchman. As Ollister and Punk plot their revenge on the Platypus, they stumble upon an intoxicating Viagra-like drug and unleash an ambitionless group of “Art Terrorists.” Plague’s seething contempt for banal art gives this satire an edge, but much more attention is paid to aesthetics (myriad designs and fonts are deployed—sometimes sublimely, sometimes to distraction) than to the prose, which could use some sharpening. It’s an intriguing concept, but the execution makes it feel more like an exercise than a harmonious whole. (Aug.)
