There is an appeal to the idea of being somewhere at the beginning, of wishing to live at that time and be involved in those things. The start of movements, the first iteration of a new art form, the establishment of a new mode of expression. We look up to those pioneers and imagine what it must have been like, and, if we’re honest, sometimes envy them the advantages they enjoyed by being first.

An illusion, of course. There was always something before them and what they did, even if the world paid too little attention to make it special. Those giants we praise were simply at the right place at the right time, when recognition coalesced around a particular example of an art that finally came—somewhat—into its own.

Whitney Scharer’s novel, The Age Of Light, offers some of that nostalgia. Quite a lot of it, really, as she deftly puts us into the heads of the principle players of the Surrealist days in Paris and takes us through events that more or less happened (the details of the behind-closed-doors bits remain speculative) to two of the emergent giants of the era—Lee Miller and Man Ray.

Outside certain circles, both names faded into the vagueries of Lost Generation narratives. Probably a lot of people recognize Man Ray, fewer Lee Miller, but they were central to what became 20th Century Photography. 

Scharer’s novel follows Lee Miller on her journey from high profile model to a want-to-be photographer in Paris. She’s young, naïve, hungry—and on the outside of the circles she wants very much to be part of. A chance encounter introduces her to Man Ray, who was already established as a notable professional photographer (though he wanted to be a painter) and she inserts herself into his life in order to learn. Famously, they became lovers, and it was one of the many tempestuous relationships that went on to fuel stories about that period and those artists from then on.

Lee Miller became an excellent photographer. She was a consummate professional, who was adept at a wide range of work, including fashion, which may be an easy surmise given her connection to that world from the other side of the lens. But she was also a war photographer, traveling through Europe during World War II and doing vital, unflinching work that included the liberation of death camps. The trauma of that period haunted her the rest of her life, but the work she produced is amazing. The only reason she has not been more widely known is likely the reason too many women in the arts get overlooked. 

But her reputation is rising once more with the advent of a new film starring Kate Winslett.

The Age Of Light  treats those later years in short inserts. The main focus of the novel is Miller’s years with Man Ray. Scharer gives us a deft, nuanced portrait of a woman who does not quite know her way into her own heart, but has an idea what direction she wants to go. The give and take, the surrenders, the sublimation to others, especially men, is the thread woven through the narrative, bringing us finally to the point at which Miller understands who she wants to be and decides not to be used anymore. Her portrait of Man Ray as talented but clueless male (who falls very deeply in love with Miller) is sympathetic while being clear-eyed about his faults and limitations. 

No one in this novel is uncomplicated.

But I want to highlight Scharer’s evocation of the period and the profession. As a once-upon-a-time professional photographer, I appreciated the work she put in to getting things right. Yes, there are a couple of mistakes, enough to make me wince, but they are minor compared with what I regard a successful realization of the magic and wonder of photography at that time. This was an art form that had a very difficult road gaining legitimacy in the larger art world. (Even in my youth, starting out, there were people who should have known better who never regarded it as an art.) That it caught the imagination of the Surrealists and the Paris art set is not surprising, but it is noted throughout that art photography never paid the bills. Man Ray and later Lee Miller had to do commercial work in order to make a living.

This is not, however, a nostalgic novel. The “glamor” of the times is subsumed in the austerity of the reality Scharer presents. While it may have triggered some wistful feelings in me (and presumably other photographers, especially of the pre-digital generations) it never wallows in any lost times soft-focus romanticism.

All in all, it is an excellent portrait of its subject. Nicely done. Brava.