An impressively written tale that’s layered with intrigue.
In Hornbuckle’s (The Salvation of Billy Wayne Carter, 2010, etc.) latest novel, two brothers become inexplicably fused together.
Fifteen-year-old Robert and 13-year-old Wally Mackintosh are brothers who live on their parents’ farm in Alabama near the Mississippi line. One afternoon in early June 1959, the two boys head to a pond, not far from the farmhouse, to cool off after a hot morning. Soon after diving into the pool, the two boys smell an unusual, sulfurous odor, then hear a whistling sound coming from above. Wally clutches Robert in fear, and Robert swims frantically to the pool’s edge with his brother on his back. A fireball falls out of the sky and splashes down in the opposite end of the pond. The water heats up “faster than when a kettle is poured into the bath,” and the boys, after dragging themselves out, discover that they have become physically connected: “Wally’s left hand, forearm, and shoulder were stuck to Robert in an embrace from behind.” An examination by Dr. Stanhope, the local physician, suggests that they won’t be able to be separated easily, and this is confirmed at the hospital after X-rays show that the fusion is “more than just skin deep” and features abnormalities that doctors can’t explain. Military personnel arrive and begin conducting tests, and newspaper reporter Munford Coldwater takes a personal interest in the family. Meanwhile, the boys must come to terms with their new lives while searching for a way to break free. Near the opening of this novel, Hornbuckle embeds the story in a specific time in American history, referring to 1959’s Communist paranoia, Elvis-mania, and the progress of the civil rights movement in a laconic line: “it had been a summer of reds and a summer of blues and a summer of blacks.” This phrase also subtly and powerfully hints at the opposing forces that shape the novel’s overarching narrative—a fear of otherness and a love of music. Unable to engage in farm work, Wally, a keen fiddle player, teaches his nonmusical brother to play, and the family takes to the road as mendicant musicians. Hornbuckle’s description of the learning process is both tender and unsettling: “[Robert] could feel the hand on his chest, Wally’s fingering hand, itching to form into the correct positions, unable to curve…he could even sense which finger Wally wanted to use on the fingerboard, and this helped him sometimes find the spot.” Indeed, he’s an alarmingly talented writer who’s able to vividly communicate the wide spectrum of sensations and emotions—from intimacy to awkwardness to sheer frustration—that spring from the boys’ situation. He also seemingly effortlessly captures the atmosphere, pace, and cuisine of the American South and shows an acute understanding of the political mood, resulting in an engrossing novel. Readers who prefer stories that tie up every loose end in the denouement will be left wanting more—but otherwise, they’ll find this one to be a rare and peculiar gem.
An impressively written tale that’s layered with intrigue.Pub Date: April 30, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-60489-228-4
Page Count: 208
Publisher: Livingston Press
Review Posted Online: March 1, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2019
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
Absolutely enthralling. Read it.
A young Irish couple gets together, splits up, gets together, splits up—sorry, can't tell you how it ends!
Irish writer Rooney has made a trans-Atlantic splash since publishing her first novel, Conversations With Friends, in 2017. Her second has already won the Costa Novel Award, among other honors, since it was published in Ireland and Britain last year. In outline it's a simple story, but Rooney tells it with bravura intelligence, wit, and delicacy. Connell Waldron and Marianne Sheridan are classmates in the small Irish town of Carricklea, where his mother works for her family as a cleaner. It's 2011, after the financial crisis, which hovers around the edges of the book like a ghost. Connell is popular in school, good at soccer, and nice; Marianne is strange and friendless. They're the smartest kids in their class, and they forge an intimacy when Connell picks his mother up from Marianne's house. Soon they're having sex, but Connell doesn't want anyone to know and Marianne doesn't mind; either she really doesn't care, or it's all she thinks she deserves. Or both. Though one time when she's forced into a social situation with some of their classmates, she briefly fantasizes about what would happen if she revealed their connection: "How much terrifying and bewildering status would accrue to her in this one moment, how destabilising it would be, how destructive." When they both move to Dublin for Trinity College, their positions are swapped: Marianne now seems electric and in-demand while Connell feels adrift in this unfamiliar environment. Rooney's genius lies in her ability to track her characters' subtle shifts in power, both within themselves and in relation to each other, and the ways they do and don't know each other; they both feel most like themselves when they're together, but they still have disastrous failures of communication. "Sorry about last night," Marianne says to Connell in February 2012. Then Rooney elaborates: "She tries to pronounce this in a way that communicates several things: apology, painful embarrassment, some additional pained embarrassment that serves to ironise and dilute the painful kind, a sense that she knows she will be forgiven or is already, a desire not to 'make a big deal.' " Then: "Forget about it, he says." Rooney precisely articulates everything that's going on below the surface; there's humor and insight here as well as the pleasure of getting to know two prickly, complicated people as they try to figure out who they are and who they want to become.
Absolutely enthralling. Read it.Pub Date: April 16, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-984-82217-8
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Hogarth
Review Posted Online: Feb. 17, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019
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"This soil," concludes the young narrator of this quiet chronicle of garrotted innocence, "is bad for all kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear." And among the exclusions of white rural Ohio, echoed by black respectability, is ugly, black, loveless, twelve-year-old Pecola. But in a world where blue-eyed gifts are clucked over and admired, and the Pecolas are simply not seen, there is always the possibility of the dream and wish—for blue eyes. Born of a mother who adjusted her life to the clarity and serenity of white households and "acquired virtues that were easy to maintain" and a father, Cholly, stunted by early rejections and humiliations, Pecola just might have been loved—for in raping his daughter Cholly did at least touch her. But "Love is never better than the lover," and with the death of her baby, the child herself, accepting absolutely the gift of blue eyes from a faith healer (whose perverse interest in little girls does not preclude understanding), inches over into madness. A skillful understated tribute to the fall of a sparrow for whose small tragedy there was no watching eye.
Pub Date: Oct. 29, 1970
ISBN: 0375411550
Page Count: -
Publisher: Holt Rinehart & Winston
Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1970
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