Not too long ago I was wandering around an Indigo store when I saw this author sitting at a table full of copies of her book. I wanted to be supportive of an independently published writer, so I bought a copy. Sarah Lane’s The God of My Art is a beautifully written novel, but unfortunately the story is not very interesting.

The God of My Art is about a young woman named Helene who had a tough upbringing in northern British Columbia. She grew up without a father and with an alcoholic mother. After her mother marries an overly zealous religious man, teenage Helene is sent away to a group home. Helene eventually makes her way to Vancouver where she finishes high school and enrols in college with the plan of earning a commerce degree so that she can get stable employment and never be poor again.

Then Helene meets Matthew and falls almost obsessively in love with him for reasons forty-year-old me cannot fathom, but I guess I can understand why a twenty-year-old might think he’s amazing, if she’s into a bohemian rich kid who pretentiously quotes Nietzsche all the time.

Matthew reawakens Helene’s passion for art, which her mother had stamped out of her so that she does not end up a starving artist. Matthew kind of encourages Helene to pursue her passion for art, if only because he thinks a commerce degree is pedestrian. Really, though, Matthew does not care much for Helene and has no problem leaving the country to be with another woman. Helene is practically bereft without Matthew, until she makes a couple of new friends in a philosophy class who actual care about her and think she is a fantastic artist.

The God of My Art is primarily set in 2001, although the story jumps all over the place in time and is kind of confusing to follow. After Matthew leaves Helene and 9/11 happens, the novel becomes more introspective as Helene and her new friends spend a lot of time philosophizing about everything and then the story peters to a close without a conclusive ending. Reading Lane’s writing, though, is like watching an artist create a vibrant image with a paintbrush. She definitely has a way with words; it is just too bad the plot of this novel is as weak as diluted watercolor paint.