An appealing portrait of a questing, turbulent spirit.
Following novels based on Tolstoy (The Last Station, 1990) and Walter Benjamin (Benjamin’s Crossing, 1997), Parini offers his seventh: a piquant exploration of the life of Herman Melville as sailor, writer and family man.
Why piquant? Because Parini places considerable emphasis on Melville’s homoerotic impulses. From the time of his first sea passage to England at 19 (recorded in Redfern), Melville’s journeys “had been strangely full of elusive young men.” These attractions were a natural outgrowth of men living in close quarters for long periods; beauty transcended gender. Sometimes these men were as well versed in literature as Melville. The friendships were never consummated, however, and are always treated with delicacy by Parini. They grew alongside Melville’s gifts as a storyteller under the mast, where he learned the power to transmute, the foundation of his writing. The stories became more extravagant after his time among the Polynesian natives of the Marquesas (see Typee). Their combination of prelapsarian innocence and (unsubstantiated) cannibalism proved irresistible. There were other stirring events: run-ins with inebriated captains, a mutiny. The passages, nautical and spiritual, would continue throughout Melville’s life; sailing to Bermuda as an old man, he would encounter a young waiter and feel inspired to write Billy Budd. Parini splices his third-person narrative of Melville’s adventures with a first-person account of Melville’s marriage by his wife, a sparsely documented figure. Parini’s voicing is impeccable; and with her disarming candor, Lizzie is a treasure. She often felt trapped in her marriage to this difficult man, who terrified his children (they adored him anyway). There is so much to cover, though, that the novel can feel crowded. The friendship with Hawthorne (ultimately as elusive as the young men) receives the requisite attention. And then there is God. Melville never stopped wrestling with the question of his existence, but knelt unhesitatingly before a vision God sent him in a cave in the Holy Land. It was a young man, as it happened.
An appealing portrait of a questing, turbulent spirit.Pub Date: Nov. 2, 2010
ISBN: 978-0-385-52277-9
Page Count: 464
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: Aug. 13, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 2010
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.
Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.
In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3
Page Count: 448
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014
BOOK TO SCREEN
SEEN & HEARD
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
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