Reading in Bed

I'm up late reading "Important Artifacts and Personal Property from the Collection of Lenore Doolan and Harold Morris, Including Books, Street Fashion, and Jewlery".
It's depressing, therefore I find it quite readable.
Reasons why:
1) at the start of the relationship she is 26 and he is 39. Why why why.
2) that 2 people in semi-creative fields in the new millenium can own that much
crap, and I mean CRAP is beyond me.
3) if New York is the centre of cultural zeitgeist and these 2 are living in the
centre of it (see point 2) creative fields) then their lack of any kind of taste, save for
kitsch, is disturbing on many levels.
For those who have not delved into this masterpiece just yet,
let me admit, that yes, I DO like it,
hence the fact that I can't put it down and
I know I have to get up in 6 hours.
It IS original, using an auction catalogue for the
forum of a burgeoning, then ultimately, failing,
(flailing?) romance. But the photos scream
to be done in colour to me.
The endless black and white, the girl half of the couple's astoundingly
ugly bathing suits, and the odd collections
of books are distressing to say the least.
But compelling, yes. Oddly, yes.
It's written by a Canadian. Of course it is!
Transplanted to New York, but Canadian through and through.