Wickedly funny and sharply observant, in the author’s vintage manner, with a warmth that softens the satire just enough.
With her customary sure hand, veteran novelist Prose (Lovers at the Chameleon Club, Paris 1932, 2014, etc.) trains various points of view on the shabby dramatization of a popular children’s book.
Mister Monkey, as summarized in the prologue, is the simplistic, bestselling tale of an orphaned African chimp adopted by an affluent Manhattan family, unjustly accused by the widowed father’s scheming girlfriend, and saved by the lawyer Portia, who (of course) turns out to be Dad’s new love. The even tackier musical version is first seen through the weary eyes of Margot, the middle-aged actress playing Portia and valiantly applying her Yale Drama–honed technique to a tawdry production whose pubescent star, Adam, has started using Mister Monkey’s interactions with the lawyer as an excuse to hump Margot onstage. Moving into Adam’s consciousness, Prose makes poignantly manifest the family issues that prompted his bad behavior, and she elicits similar empathy for the damaged characters who serially pick up the narrative from there: a grieving widower and his grandson Edward in the audience; Edward’s kindergarten teacher, who winds up on a disastrous blind date at a restaurant seated next to Mister Monkey’s author; the waiter Mario, also lonely and bereaved, who provides the novel’s hopeful final development based on totally false premises. Prose hilariously nails the down-at-the-heels milieu—poor Margot is stuck in a ridiculous wig and hideous costume mandated by the pretentious director—while also evoking the magic even low-rent theater can inspire in the narratives of the show’s costume designer (an underpaid NYU grad student), the moonlighting emergency room nurse who plays the villainess, and the director, whose closing monologue reveals someone much kinder than his prior treatment of Margot suggested.
Wickedly funny and sharply observant, in the author’s vintage manner, with a warmth that softens the satire just enough.Pub Date: Oct. 18, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-06-239783-6
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Harper/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: July 27, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2016
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
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
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.
Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958
ISBN: 0385474547
Page Count: 207
Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky
Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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