The Diplomat
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3.8 • 11 Ratings
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- $9.99
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- $9.99
Publisher Description
1991. Fresh out of detox and five years after his involvement in the theft of Picasso's masterpiece The Weeping Woman from the NGV, Edward Degraves - art forger and drug addict - returns to Melbourne for a new start. All he needs to do is make one last visit to The Diplomat, a seedy motel renowned for its drug dealers and eccentrics.
But Edward's new-found sobriety is both a torment and a gift. As he revisits old haunts, he is confronted by reminders of the past: ruined relationships, a stalled career as an artist and - looming over everything - the death of his beloved wife Gertrude.
Shot through with grief and dark comedy, The Diplomat is a powerful story of love and recovery - and a stark evocation of the fine line between self-destruction and redemption.
Praise for The Diplomat
'This is a gem of a novel, full of all the good stuff - love, art, failure, heartbreak - told in a clear, strong voice brimming with loss and longing. A novel of propulsive storytelling and moving depth.' - Emily Bitto
'Art, addiction and nostalgia swirl in reveries that tie London to Melbourne to the Weeping Woman heist. Edward is so heartbreakingly lost in the everyday, so doomed, that he could have risen from Dostoyevsky. Dark, touching and deeply authentic, this is Womersley at his very best.' - Jock Serong
'Threw me right back into the grimy inner-city Melbourne streets of the early 90s. Wonderful!' - Favel Parrett
'Regret and grief are some bitter pills to try wash down. To write about them with raw tenderness, with all their savage complexity, is mighty. A harsh, brave and necessary addendum to Cairo. Bravo.' - Tim Rogers
'Written close to the bone. I clutched my pearls and then rooted for the protagonist. Both harrowing and wonderful.' - Kid Congo Powers (guitarist, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds)
Customer Reviews
Like a Nick Cave song
Australian journo turned novelist, principally in the crime genre. ‘Cairo’ (2013) was about a group of young Melbourne arty types who steal a Picasso from the National Gallery of Victoria, copy it and sell the forgery, then give the original back (sort of). The title comes from the name of the seedy motel they hang out in. Edward and Gertrude, the principal artists, are married, and head off to Europe to avoid capture (No one is ever arrested for stealing the Picasso). They spend the proceeds in high living, by which I mean drugs mostly. Years pass. More forgeries to fund their habits. It’s the early to mid-1990s. Edward is picked up by the plod (they’re in London now) while trying to score. The magistrate puts him in detox. While he’s there and incommunicado, Gertrude overdoses in their squat and dies. She’s found by kids who break in to rob the place. Our boy gets out and takes his dead wife’s ashes home to her parents in suburban Melbourne (along with some heroin and a range of pills hidden in the urn). Things don’t turn out as he planned, but when have they ever? The Diplomat is the name of a once grand, now rather less grand, hotel-motel in St Kilda where the denouement, such as it is, goes down.
Slick, pacy prose that reeks of Melbourne of the era (the seedy side of it, anyway). If you’re looking for a quick read to cheer you up, this isn’t it.