Evocative rendering of life in a Boston community, although contemporary themes—race, poverty, class—become the tail of —issues— wagging the dog of character and plot. Paula is a therapist in a community counseling center; Joe, who has just fled Africa following an indistinctly described slaughter in a village, is in Boston now for a fresh beginning and all too willing to play along with those who see in him African magic and other spiritual powers; and Eric, an insecure writer and his pregnant wife Jane, are about to have their house remodeled. At the counseling center, Paula struggles to renew her loveless life by dedicating herself to low-income clients, while Joe continues to become exactly what everyone wants him to be. Eric, meantime, whose underselling fiction has failed to satisfy his corporate publisher, finds his inspiration for a long-incubating third novel fading. Packer (Half Man, 1991) brings these parties together in believable and entertaining ways—an adulterous affair, a fabricated identity, a chance meeting in a Harvard library—and his heavy-handedness arises only afterward. A neighborhood semi-political organization named The Community is intent on reclaiming a building on the local Square for its own uses, and, all going well enough so far, Packer allows the ensuing crisis to reveal his characters— unstable relations with one another. The deadener comes, though, when he also allows himself free license to ruminate on such matters as neighborhood politics, community disintegration, and gender issues—while his people disappear in the smog of speechifying. Packer’s genuine artistry is most evident in his bringing characters to life; his ability to animate political issues, though, is less compelling.
Pub Date: Oct. 1, 1998
ISBN: 1-55597-277-2
Page Count: 356
Publisher: Graywolf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1998
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.
Atwood goes back to Gilead.
The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Nan A. Talese
Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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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