Intriguing and intermittently dramatic, but awfully sketchy. Chamoiseau and Danticat do it better.
An overwhelmingly lush ambiance and its attractive protagonist are the chief pleasures of this otherwise rather lax 1987 novel (and US debut) by Confiant, a Martinican author who will remind many readers of the better-known Patrick Chamoiseau and Edwidge Danticat.
In alternating chapters, an omniscient narrator shares with only child Adelise Félicité the rhythmic telling of the story of her life (in the 1950s) in the village of Glotin; misadventures “In-City” (i.e., Martinique’s capital Fort-de-France) as a fledgling prostitute, mother-to-be, and victim of a presumed “curse”; and eventual escape from both the cane fields that have made her mother a prematurely old woman and a disastrous marriage to a handsome, weak-willed stevedore for whom the beauteous Adelise is clearly too much woman. Men are essentially marginal figures anyway in this loosely plotted tale, which is dominated by such colorful elements as surrogate mother (and procuress) Aunt Philomène and by Adelise’s dreamlike remoteness from the facts of sex and poverty, embodied in the mysterious kinship she feels with “her” tree (a backyard jastram, beneath which, we later learn, her mother had buried Adelise’s afterbirth). More supernaturalism, in fact, might have helped, for Confiant whizzes all too quickly through such potentially interesting materials as the ethics and sociology of prostitution, the joyous extravagance of “Carnival,” and the opposition to French colonialism represented by Fort-de-France’s energetic mayor Aimé Césaire, the celebrated poet and avatar of “Négritude.” The story’s only really convincing tension arrives near its end, when Adelise ruefully acknowledges that “I’d lived as heedlessly as a dragonfly,” and vows to become her own woman.
Intriguing and intermittently dramatic, but awfully sketchy. Chamoiseau and Danticat do it better.Pub Date: July 5, 2000
ISBN: 0-374-19932-9
Page Count: 176
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2000
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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