The Floating World by Ben Eastham: A Compelling Study of the Links Between Art, Money and Power

After the death of his wife, a critical teacher works for a multinational company in a cinematic novel full of ideas. At the end of a night at a London pub, after the last orders, three friends jokingly discuss what roles they would play on a remote desert island, with no one but their colleague as the sole survivor of the disaster. When one of them, an art critic, becomes a reluctant schoolteacher, he says the teacher will become an artist, and is naturally mocked.

At the end of a night in a London pub, after last orders, three friends joke about their roles on a remote desert island with no one but their fellow plane crash survivors for company. When one of them, an art critic, becomes a reluctant school teacher, he says he's going to be an artist, naturally he's ridiculed. Her friend, Sybil, who is actually a painter, more sensibly presents herself as the island's demigod queen and enlists her newly creative companion to "confirm her glory." "That's what artists are for," he says, "I'll pay you to give you fermented coconut water and you tell yourself you're free and drink yourself to death."

This is about as clear as one could wish for the position of contemporary art as it pertains to power: the boot of the latter is firmly placed on the throat of the former. This relationship is the central theme of The Floating World, Ben Eastham's first novel, narrated by a somewhat hapless and uncertain teacher critic. And what has led to this existential pub conversation is an unexpected opportunity: after the narrator's wife dies in an undisclosed war zone, he is offered a job at the Morel Foundation, a multinational arms company that profits from all corners of a war-torn world while sitting on the cultural side of its CEO.

The two quotes are due to the fact that the political awareness of the novel is more than the setting of the scene; This is the real heart of the book

The narrator is unsure about taking a position that he knows is morally indefensible, but he does well. If he accepts the nine-month contract - "helping with research, writing press releases, editing publications" - he will move from London to a small Greek island, where Morel is building a "floating world", a techno-utopian settlement inside a giant dome. A spectacular art event is planned to celebrate the official opening of what another friend of the narrator calls "literally a doomsday haven for billionaires." Is this really something he wants to be a part of?

Eastham knows this artistic environment from the inside. As one of the founders of The White Review, a magazine of visual arts and literature, and a busy and insightful critic, Eastham has spent many years on the lookout for contemporary art and literature. As a curator and writer, he has witnessed first-hand the ever-tightening ties between the global art market and international finance, from widespread patronage of oil and opiate dealers to the geopolitical games of projects like the Louvre Abu Dhabi, not to mention the use of artworks for money laundering and other types of money-laundering engines, tax breaks. Eastham gives examples of this interdependence throughout the book. Sometimes as a nod to those in the know, but often more directly, as when a visit to a London museum is interrupted by a young woman throwing red paint at one of them. "It's happening, open your eyes!" the paintings screamed.

The narrator takes over. He first lands in Athens, where he is greeted by graffiti criticizing the spread of short-term rentals for tourists, deliberately written in English – the only sign he can understand. Greece is an ideal setting for this book because there is arguably no place in Europe where it is easier to see the global contradictions where capital moves freely but people do not. In Athens, the poorest struggle with statelessness and poverty, with the Acropolis as a backdrop. On the islands, victims of war, genocide, exploitation and climate catastrophe escape the escapist fantasies of the rich.

It is to the credit of the novel that it has been able to make this political awareness more than a dutiful staging. This is the real heart of the book. Eastham performs an ambitious balancing act: on the one hand, the cynical play of contemporary high art, and on the other, the emotional inner life of a man haunted by the memory of his deceased wife. The story becomes increasingly mysterious and action-packed, and it becomes inevitable that the two threads will merge through a definitive story ending. The form demands, and Istham obliges with a vague, dreamlike flame of grief, horror, and revenge. It's all very cinematic, and well done - perhaps too neat, in the end. The Floating World is a book full of ideas and curiosity, but for all its well-earned disillusionment with the art world, it remains surprisingly emotional.

The Floating World by Ben Eastham is published by Fitzcarraldo (£14.99). To support The Guardian, order your copy. Delivery charges may apply.