NEVADA DAYS

Name: NEVADA DAYS
Author: Bernardo Atxaga
ISBN: 978-1-55597-810-5

by Bernardo Atxaga ; translated by Margaret Jull Costa ‧ RELEASE DATE: July 10, 2018

Atxaga has taken in a lot about the peculiarities of desert living, but he’s only half-heartedly attempted to deliver a...

bookshelf

A Basque novelist takes a detour in Reno and contemplates his Spanish heritage alongside the American desert landscape.

This semiautobiographical novel by Atxaga (Seven Houses in France, 2011) opens with a writer not unlike Atxaga himself arriving with his wife and two daughters for a stint as a writer-in-residence in Reno, a magnet for Basque migrants and home to a Basque studies department at the University of Nevada. Writing in the form of a diary interspersed with longer personal essays, the narrator offers some fish-out-of-water descriptions of life in America: his kids doing active-shooter drills in school, campaign visits from Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton (the novel is set in 2007 and 2008), and (a particular fixation) the ignorance or blithe indifference of his neighbors to news about a serial rapist in the area. But nobody would confuse Atxaga for de Tocqueville, disinclined as he is to broad cultural analysis and prone as he is to digress. The story includes riffs on famous Basque figures like boxer Paulino Uzcudun, who trained in Nevada before a bout with Max Baer, the death of a mentally ill cousin, and a trip to Italy. From incident to incident, Atxaga’s storytelling can be engaging, shifting from highly detailed set pieces about funeral processions and typefaces to travelogues of road trips to San Francisco and through barren desert to dreamscapes (he depicts a particularly lively one involving a dumping ground for metaphors). But the novel overall is effectively plotless and hence static-feeling; despite Atxaga’s efforts to use the news stories about the rapist and disappeared adventurer Steve Fossett as a frame, the book mostly meanders.

Atxaga has taken in a lot about the peculiarities of desert living, but he’s only half-heartedly attempted to deliver a full-bodied work of fiction about it.

Pub Date: July 10, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-55597-810-5

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Graywolf

Review Posted Online: April 15, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2018

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

- BOOK REVIEW
WATER OVER STONES
by Bernardo Atxaga ; translated by Margaret Jull Costa & Thomas Bunstead

- BOOK REVIEW
SEVEN HOUSES IN FRANCE
by Bernardo Atxaga translated by Margaret Jull Costa

- BOOK REVIEW
THE LONE MAN
by Bernardo Atxaga

bookshelf

THE HANDMAID'S TALE

by Margaret Atwood ‧ RELEASE DATE: Feb. 17, 1985

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

bookshelf

The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.

Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985

ISBN: 038549081X

Page Count: -

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin

Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

- BOOK REVIEW
FOURTEEN DAYS
edited by Margaret Atwood & Douglas Preston

- BOOK REVIEW
OLD BABES IN THE WOOD
by Margaret Atwood

- BOOK REVIEW
BURNING QUESTIONS
by Margaret Atwood

- PERSPECTIVES
Appreciations: Margaret Atwood’s Novel The Handmaid’s Tale Turns 30

- SEEN & HEARD
Nan A. Talese, Legendary Publisher, Is Retiring

- BOOK TO SCREEN
Teasers Drop for ‘Shadow and Bone,’ Other Films

bookshelf

THE SECRET HISTORY

by Donna Tartt ‧ RELEASE DATE: Sept. 16, 1992

bookshelf

The Brat Pack meets The Bacchae in this precious, way-too-long, and utterly unsuspenseful town-and-gown murder tale. A bunch of ever-so-mandarin college kids in a small Vermont school are the eager epigones of an aloof classics professor, and in their exclusivity and snobbishness and eagerness to please their teacher, they are moved to try to enact Dionysian frenzies in the woods. During the only one that actually comes off, a local farmer happens upon them—and they kill him. But the death isn't ruled a murder—and might never have been if one of the gang—a cadging sybarite named Bunny Corcoran—hadn't shown signs of cracking under the secret's weight. And so he too is dispatched. The narrator, a blank-slate Californian named Richard Pepen chronicles the coverup. But if you're thinking remorse-drama, conscience masque, or even semi-trashy who'll-break-first? page-turner, forget it: This is a straight gee-whiz, first-to-have-ever-noticed college novel—"Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally thought to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion." First-novelist Tartt goes muzzy when she has to describe human confrontations (the murder, or sex, or even the ping-ponging of fear), and is much more comfortable in transcribing aimless dorm-room paranoia or the TV shows that the malefactors anesthetize themselves with as fate ticks down. By telegraphing the murders, Tartt wants us to be continually horrified at these kids—while inviting us to semi-enjoy their manneristic fetishes and refined tastes. This ersatz-Fitzgerald mix of moralizing and mirror-looking (Jay McInerney shook and poured the shaker first) is very 80's—and in Tartt's strenuous version already seems dated, formulaic. Les Nerds du Mal—and about as deep (if not nearly as involving) as a TV movie.