A multilayered thriller that tackles issues of race and history in America, but comes up short of a fully nuanced...
A present-day racist incident launches a search for answers about a 1907 lynching in the new novel by Morris (Cologne No. 10 for Men, 2007).
When racist graffiti defiles a highway near Ron Watkins’ new home in the Washington, D.C., suburbs, he remembers his mother’s warnings. Maryland was a slave state, she taught him, and the local white population has never forgotten its former violent dominance of blacks. Watkins has moved his family back to the East Coast from California in order to further his career and he has felt safe, if slightly conflicted, in his largely black neighborhood. But even as his neighbors—including one new white friend—chew over the vagaries of race and social issues, the past rears its head. Watkins’ great-grandfather was murdered by a lynch mob, he learns, and his family was forced to sell its farm on the very land where Watkins’ prosperous suburb now stands. Now Watkins wants to learn the truth and clear his great-grandfather’s name. However, the past lives for others, too: the local neo-Nazi group responsible for the hateful graffiti has plans for action—aimed directly at the Watkins and their new friends. Morris links the past and present stories through historical documents, half-remembered family lore and one very important letter, building up to parallel climaxes of danger and resolution. He has cast a wide range of characters with great awareness, from the more radical and angry blacks to those who observe no race divide in their personal matters, and from historically sensitive white people to their subtly prejudiced counterparts, focusing heavily on such details as skin and hair. The villains, however, lack the same fullness of character. While it is difficult to imagine much scope or intelligence among the racist characters, their one-dimensional portrayals—all hateful stupidity—weakens this otherwise sensitive study of race and history in the American South.
A multilayered thriller that tackles issues of race and history in America, but comes up short of a fully nuanced examination.Pub Date: Feb. 1, 2010
ISBN: 978-1450203906
Page Count: 288
Publisher: iUniverse
Review Posted Online: July 14, 2010
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.
Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985
ISBN: 038549081X
Page Count: -
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
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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