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RECITAL OF THE DOG

Few contemporary dramatists have dealt with violence, physical and psychological, more impressively than Rabe (Sticks and Stones, Hurlyburly, etc.); sadly, that skill has not crossed the footlights to whip his first novel (a study of creative/destructive impulses) into shape. The unnamed narrator is a middle-aged painter at the peak of his creativity and commercial success. In hopes of repairing his marriage, he has moved his family (wife, small son Tobias) to the country and acquired some cows. A dog causes havoc, disturbing cows and painter; he shoots the dog. Ironically, in attempting to affirm his manhood and regain control of his world with a single shot, the painter unravels. He cannot work; the brushes fall from his hands. He haunts the farmhouse of the dog's owner, the Old Man, a bad- tempered loner (and the only character there for us on the page). Without confessing to his act, the painter tries to appease the Old Man by ``becoming'' the dog, delivering the newspaper in his mouth, etc. That's the novel's first half, reasonably straightforward; the second half is all murk. The painter returns home. Increasingly irrational, he suspects his wife of starving Tobias to death; later, he begs their forgiveness. Violence surges in him; he buys a revolver, a hunting knife, a machete—and kills two women, strangers. A sea of dogs surrounds him and forces him to confess to the Old Man, who demands Tobias's death as payment. Eventually, the police catch up with the painter. Last seen, he's on Death Row. Rabe has kept specifics to a minimum to highlight the psychic drama of a partially liberated id in free fall—yet his clotted, self-indulgent prose renders that drama nonexistent.

Pub Date: Jan. 1, 1993

ISBN: 0-8021-1488-1

Page Count: 256

Publisher: Grove

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 1, 1992

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CONCLAVE

An illuminating read for anyone interested in the inner workings of the Catholic Church; for prelate-fiction superfans, it...

Harris, creator of grand, symphonic thrillers from Fatherland (1992) to An Officer and a Spy (2014), scores with a chamber piece of a novel set in the Vatican in the days after a fictional pope dies.

Fictional, yes, but the nameless pontiff has a lot in common with our own Francis: He’s famously humble, shunning the lavish Apostolic Palace for a small apartment, and he is committed to leading a church that engages with the world and its problems. In the aftermath of his sudden death, rumors circulate about the pope’s intention to fire certain cardinals. At the center of the action is Cardinal Lomeli, Dean of the College of Cardinals, whose job it is to manage the conclave that will elect a new pope. He believes it is also his duty to uncover what the pope knew before he died because some of the cardinals in question are in the running to succeed him. “In the running” is an apt phrase because, as described by Harris, the papal conclave is the ultimate political backroom—albeit a room, the Sistine Chapel, covered with Michelangelo frescoes. Vying for the papal crown are an African cardinal whom many want to see as the first black pope, a press-savvy Canadian, an Italian arch-conservative (think Cardinal Scalia), and an Italian liberal who wants to continue the late pope’s campaign to modernize the church. The novel glories in the ancient rituals that constitute the election process while still grounding that process in the real world: the Sistine Chapel is fitted with jamming devices to thwart electronic eavesdropping, and the pressure to act quickly is increased because “rumours that the pope is dead are already trending on social media.”

An illuminating read for anyone interested in the inner workings of the Catholic Church; for prelate-fiction superfans, it is pure temptation.

Pub Date: Nov. 22, 2016

ISBN: 978-0-451-49344-6

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Knopf

Review Posted Online: Sept. 6, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2016

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THE SECRET HISTORY

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.

Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992

ISBN: 1400031702

Page Count: 592

Publisher: Knopf

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992

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