I wanted him to be good, though, I wanted to feel that I had done a good thing not only for him but for all the people he came in contact with. This distance between Cook and the narrator is crucial for allowing readers the space to question his morality. I had already spent hours in the airport, my tickets having been purchased last minute and at the cheapest possible fare—a red-eye from LA, a layover at JFK, a flight to Frankfurt, a four-hour train ride to Berlin—and the idea of a first-class lounge was so appealing I could have hugged old Jeff right there and then. Our narrator is uncertain why he has been chosen to hear Cook’s story, especially since Cook insists it is because he was ‘there at the beginning’ although they were not imitate friends.

The paths of the two men come together and diverge in dizzying ways until the novel’s staggering ending. We don’t share your credit card details with third-party sellers, and we don’t sell your information to others.For Jeff Cook this responsibility plays out in a most unusual way and much is left to the reader's interpretation. I should also mention that this book utilizes one of my favorite plot devices: Cliffhanging chapters, done perfectly!

The author here does jab LA/Hollywood art collectors with a stinging, accurate line: "They werent the type to drop money on unknown and emerging artists.While reading it, I was enjoying the wild ride, but much like Peggy Lee, once it was all over, I kept asking myself: "Is that all there is?

He had undergone surgery recently, nothing serious, or not life-threatening at least, but he had ended up terrified that he wouldn’t wake up again. A delayed flight and a chance encounter at JFK with a former classmate,Jeff Cook, with whom our narrator attended UCLA 20 years ago.

This moment of resuscitation permanently entangles the lives of Cook and the man he saves, esteemed art dealer Francis Arsenault. I like the way Jeff tells the story although parts of it makes you feel a growing discomfort when you witness his actions with Francis which becomes akin to obsession. I’d said it before and meant it every time, but people always took it as an expression of false modesty. The man, Jeff Cook, notices him too and soon they’re enjoying free beer and snacks, courtesy of Cook’s First Class privilege.