Delightful nonsense that will lift a lot of spirits.
The hero (of sorts) has aged a year in this wildly implausible sequel to The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out a Window and Disappeared (2012).
Reaching age 101 hasn’t slowed Allan Karlsson, who travels from continent to continent with his thieving friend, Julius Jonsson. A hot air balloon becomes untethered in Indonesia, and the gentlemen are soon afloat in the Indian Ocean. A North Korean bulk carrier rescues them on its way to pick up four illicit kilos of enriched uranium in Madagascar. The ship’s captain takes them back to North Korea, where they meet Kim Jong-un and convince him that Allan is a nuclear weapons expert who invented “hetisostat pressure” and that Julius is an asparagus expert. Allan gives a North Korean engineer a formula for vitamin C and smelling salts, or possibly toothpaste and bleach. When Kim kicks the Swedes out of the country, Allan picks up a briefcase with the uranium in it—easy to do, since all North Korean briefcases look alike. Allan considers giving the uranium to Donald Trump until they meet and Allan decides that the U.S. president is “awfully close to exploding all on his own” and “should be diagnosed with something.” Then he writes a letter on three napkins to Angela Merkel, who comes across as the sanest person in the book. Early on, Allan obtains a “black tablet” that shows news, music, and naked ladies. Thus he learns more than Trump, who learns all that’s worth knowing from Fox. Allan and Julius meet a grocer/coffin-maker and help her sell designer coffins at a travel and tourism trade fair. Allan discovers Twitter and Facebook, Julius plants asparagus with an assist from Merkel, and a bad guy in Africa learns the hard way what lions like to eat.
Delightful nonsense that will lift a lot of spirits.Pub Date: Jan. 15, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-06-283855-1
Page Count: 448
Publisher: Morrow/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: Dec. 10, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
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
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
A modern day fable, with modern implications in a deceiving simplicity, by the author of Dickens. Dali and Others (Reynal & Hitchcock, p. 138), whose critical brilliance is well adapted to this type of satire. This tells of the revolt on a farm, against humans, when the pigs take over the intellectual superiority, training the horses, cows, sheep, etc., into acknowledging their greatness. The first hints come with the reading out of a pig who instigated the building of a windmill, so that the electric power would be theirs, the idea taken over by Napoleon who becomes topman with no maybes about it. Napoleon trains the young puppies to be his guards, dickers with humans, gradually instigates a reign of terror, and breaks the final commandment against any animal walking on two legs. The old faithful followers find themselves no better off for food and work than they were when man ruled them, learn their final disgrace when they see Napoleon and Squealer carousing with their enemies... A basic statement of the evils of dictatorship in that it not only corrupts the leaders, but deadens the intelligence and awareness of those led so that tyranny is inevitable. Mr. Orwell's animals exist in their own right, with a narrative as individual as it is apt in political parody.
Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1946
ISBN: 0452277507
Page Count: 114
Publisher: Harcourt, Brace
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1946
© Copyright 2025 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
