Quiet but powerful; fans of Modiano’s smoky, humid postwar world will enjoy this slowly unfolding mystery.
Modiano’s transitional novel, first published in 1981, that marked an end to literary experimentation in favor of his largely unadorned though deeply atmospheric style.
Modiano’s novel opens on an uncharacteristically idyllic note, although, as with his other work, it immediately turns in search of a moment of lost time. Odile and Louis are just about to turn 35, and now, as she gazes out at her children playing on the alpine lakefront lawn, Odile is feeling the pangs of fading youth. “Does life ever start over at thirty-five?” she wonders. “She had the feeling that the answer was No. You reach a zone of total calm and the pedal-boat glides all by itself across a lake like the one stretching out before her.” Rewind 15-odd years, to the end of the war, and Odile and Louis, still teenagers, are innocents caught up in a much different world and a much different demimonde. Fresh out of the army, Louis meets a shadowy fellow, Brossier, who wears a feather-festooned Tyrolean hat, perhaps not the best of disguises, and says he’s in the car business. Just what it is that he does isn’t ever quite clear, but he enlists Louis in the enterprise and fills his pockets with money, even as Odile is struggling to make it as a chanteuse in a world that still has Edith Piaf. Brossier has big plans for Louis, though always of a vague sort, and shifting duties: “Now, when I say ‘night watchman,’ ” he says of one job possibility, “in fact it’s more of a job as a…secretary….” Only gradually does Louis become uneasy about the ill-defined nature of his duties as compared to his large pay packet, but he's too much the naif to recognize what the knowing reader will—namely, that a postcard bearing Guy Burgess’ signature puts us into different territory altogether, lending Modiano’s matter-of-fact mood study a dangerous dimension.
Quiet but powerful; fans of Modiano’s smoky, humid postwar world will enjoy this slowly unfolding mystery.Pub Date: March 8, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-59017-955-0
Page Count: 176
Publisher: New York Review Books
Review Posted Online: Dec. 20, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2016
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
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