At once pointless and moving, Hood’s narrative is too sketchy and diffuse to come into any sort of clear focus—which becomes...
Tearjerker novelist Hood (Ruby, 1998, etc.) sits down to flip through her family album in this sentimental account of her father’s battle with cancer.
“The day my father was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer, I decided to go and find him a miracle.” Many Italian-Americans will see nothing ironic in the author’s tone, inhabiting as they do a world in which supernatural grace is seen to be only somewhat less accessible than fresh figs or decent ricotta cheese. Hood set out on her errand with a good deal of self-consciousness, however. For one thing, she is only half-Italian (her father was a Baptist from the Midwest). For another, she had put most of that old-time religion behind her when she grew up, went to college, became a writer, married a Protestant, and moved into the American mainstream. But all the old stories (of curses, evil eyes, healing potions, and miraculous statues) were still stowed away in the dimmer recess of her imagination, and in the twilight of her father’s illness they began to shine with an unfamiliar new light. So she set off on a series of pilgrimages—first to find a cure, and later (after her father died in spite of her efforts) to find an answer. Some of the places she describes (e.g., Mont-St. Michel, Chartres, Lourdes) will be familiar ground for most readers, but others (El Santuario de Chimayo, New Mexico) are a good deal more obscure, and some (like the Massachusetts town where a comatose girl has developed a large cult as a “victim soul”) are downright creepy. The final pilgrimage, to her mother’s ancestral village in Italy, seems an appropriate site to wrap up the action, but it doesn’t really succeed in imparting much shape to what is a basically formless, if diverting, tale.
At once pointless and moving, Hood’s narrative is too sketchy and diffuse to come into any sort of clear focus—which becomes an annoyance in the end, despite many fine vignettes.Pub Date: Dec. 1, 2000
ISBN: 0-312-24259-X
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Picador
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2000
The author's youthfulness helps to assure the inevitable comparison with the Anne Frank diary although over and above the...
Elie Wiesel spent his early years in a small Transylvanian town as one of four children.
He was the only one of the family to survive what Francois Maurois, in his introduction, calls the "human holocaust" of the persecution of the Jews, which began with the restrictions, the singularization of the yellow star, the enclosure within the ghetto, and went on to the mass deportations to the ovens of Auschwitz and Buchenwald. There are unforgettable and horrifying scenes here in this spare and sombre memoir of this experience of the hanging of a child, of his first farewell with his father who leaves him an inheritance of a knife and a spoon, and of his last goodbye at Buchenwald his father's corpse is already cold let alone the long months of survival under unconscionable conditions.
Pub Date: Jan. 16, 2006
ISBN: 0374500010
Page Count: 120
Publisher: Hill & Wang
Review Posted Online: Oct. 7, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2006
A horde-pleaser, well-written and full of surprises.
“The Mongols swept across the globe as conquerors,” writes the appreciative pop anthropologist-historian Weatherford (The History of Money, 1997, etc.), “but also as civilization’s unrivaled cultural carriers.”
No business-secrets fluffery here, though Weatherford does credit Genghis Khan and company for seeking “not merely to conquer the world but to impose a global order based on free trade, a single international law, and a universal alphabet with which to write all the languages of the world.” Not that the world was necessarily appreciative: the Mongols were renowned for, well, intemperance in war and peace, even if Weatherford does go rather lightly on the atrocities-and-butchery front. Instead, he accentuates the positive changes the Mongols, led by a visionary Genghis Khan, brought to the vast territories they conquered, if ever so briefly: the use of carpets, noodles, tea, playing cards, lemons, carrots, fabrics, and even a few words, including the cheer hurray. (Oh, yes, and flame throwers, too.) Why, then, has history remembered Genghis and his comrades so ungenerously? Whereas Geoffrey Chaucer considered him “so excellent a lord in all things,” Genghis is a byword for all that is savage and terrible; the word “Mongol” figures, thanks to the pseudoscientific racism of the 19th century, as the root of “mongoloid,” a condition attributed to genetic throwbacks to seed sown by Mongol invaders during their decades of ravaging Europe. (Bad science, that, but Dr. Down’s son himself argued that imbeciles “derived from an earlier form of the Mongol stock and should be considered more ‘pre-human, rather than human.’ ”) Weatherford’s lively analysis restores the Mongols’ reputation, and it takes some wonderful learned detours—into, for instance, the history of the so-called Secret History of the Mongols, which the Nazis raced to translate in the hope that it would help them conquer Russia, as only the Mongols had succeeded in doing.
A horde-pleaser, well-written and full of surprises.Pub Date: March 2, 2004
ISBN: 0-609-61062-7
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2003
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