The wicked Pavilion centers around a place in New York called the Cafe Julien; it's in a hotel, and it also has a dining room and a banquet room. But most of the action centers around the cafe.
There're so many characters that it's hard to keep track of them all. I'll name several of them: there's Rick Prescott, and there's ellenora: these two love each other, but they never get past having dates in the cafe. He keeps offending her with his presumptuousness, but he's too stupid to figure it out.
There're three artists, rather despicable characters: Dalzel Sloane, Ben Forrester, and Marius. They are always in need of money, always having problems with dealers, and always breaking up with, and getting new girlfriends, which interferes with their work. Marius dies, and as often happens when an artist dies, his work is suddenly in great demand, and everybody wants to share anecdotes of being his best friend.
There's a hilarious scene where Cynthia Earle, a wealthy sponsor of artists, has a party to make a recording for posterity of those who had been closest to Marius, giving their best memories of him. The m.c. doesn't know enough about the recorder, and whispered gossiping and snide, jealous murmurs come out louder than the eulogies:
"Dalzell sloane, ben, briggs, Okie and severgney had stayed on for one more run-through although it was after 2:00. Cynthia had graciously brought out her best Brandy when the other guests left, for the evening had proved most unnerving for all. in the first playback private whispers and asides had come booming out drowning proper speeches and a dozen quarrels had started because someone waiting to hear his own pretty speech heard instead malicious remarks about himself made at the same time. almost everyone had stalked out either wounded to the quick or eager to report the fiasco. careful editing must be done by a chosen few, Cynthia had declared, and here they were, ears critically cocked, eyes on the Martell bottle. The machine whirred and voices came crackling out like popcorn.
'she's a ghoul--'
Dalzel and Ben think up a scheme to make money off Marius' death. Powell's contempt for the artists' circle and their sponsors comes through loud and clear.
there's Jerry Dulaine, a model who is not as much in demand with clients as she once was. Elsie Hookley, who lives in Jerry's building, comes from a wealthy Boston family, and was once married to a European baron. She enjoys how her bohemian lifestyle prickles her brother Wharton, who is staid and stuffy.
Jerry is depressed after her failed dinner party for Collier McGrew, the bigwig she's trying to"catch." She's considering a bottle of sleeping pills when a stood-up Rick comes over to her place and they decide to go out on the town. She wakes up in a strange room, and Rick is nowhere in sight:
"Her room would be a mess, she knew that from the fierce throbbing in her head which meant that she had drunk too much of something terrible, and of course her clothes would be thrown all over the place and probably the lamp turned over. But this bulb in the ceiling? the pale woman with long red braids lying in the other bed? The funny looking windows with no curtains – dungeon like windows – yes, with bars. suddenly a struck her that she must have done it – taking poison or dope pills just as she had been afraid she might. This was no dream, this was a hospital . How had it happened, how long ago, and where? Frightened, she sat up in bed abruptly and the sudden motion made her sick. She leaped up to go to the bathroom but the door was shut."

There's much more fun and frolics and plenty of schadenfreude at pretentious people's comeuppances. Powell has a delicious talent for showing up the phoniness of New York's rich and her presentation of humans whose only concern in life is how they appear to others is good fun. Makes for much laugh-out-loud moments. ( )

it was not Dawn Powell;s best attempt but she does give a story of loneliness among artists and writers in New York , the setting is postwar WWII satire to address the culture of Greenwich Village. Struggled to read to end ( )

Uneven story telling of lonely, unlikeable, morbidly self-pitying character writers and painters made for disappointing reading.
A protracted and silly ending follows the angst and ennui.

Still worse is the Introduction by Gore Vidal, one of those truly awful ones that reveal the entire plot of the book. ( )

The first word that comes to mind when I think of The Wicked Pavilion is snarky. To flesh that out, it is a snarky satire about New York in all its glory. This is the second postwar satire Powell published and with every intent, laid bare all of Greenwich Village's shortcomings. Set mostly in Cafe Julien, Pavilion's characters are all hot messes. Unsuccessful in romance and unsuccessful at success they spend a great deal of time whining and complaining to and about each other. ( )

Dawn Powell is apparently one of those unsung heroes, a favorite of Hemingway and Vidal. This seems to be the best-loved of her books by slim consensus; other nominees (in case I can't find this) include something about locusts and A Time To Be Born.