It's hard to believe that de la Pe§a (Margins, 1992) tries to work terms like ``multicultural,'' ``racist,'' and ``homophobic'' onto almost every page, but she does in this wearying, preachy novel. De la Pe§a seems to think that the mere act of using words like ``dyke'' or ``tits and clits,'' and dropping concepts like AIDS, homophobia, sexual preference, racial discrimination, and solo sex into everyday conversation is groundbreaking when, in fact, it's all been done many times before. Her efforts would have been better spent on a more convincing narrative and stronger writing. Somehow, in de la Pe§a's world, novels are meant to send a message—the ``right'' message. And the story? Well...it's not so important. So we're stuck watching the mini-dramas of four queer Chicanas who mix music and social commentary in a singing group called the Latin Satins. Like: Will the celibate songwriter ever stop masturbating over her well-worn volume of lesbian erotica and actually get a real lover? (Of course. In fact, the stranger she sees across a lagoon one morning at the beginning of the book, the first woman she's attracted to since breaking up with her closeted ex two years before, turns out to be the same friend-of-a-friend trying to get a date with her throughout the story.) Or: Will the lead singer change her skirt-chasing ways to keep a stormy new affair with the bisexual backup singer from causing turmoil in the group? (Not an issue, since the backup singer's black rapper boyfriend comes home to reclaim her and their biracial daughter.) And don't expect any more creativity from the lyrics. Other than the sardonic ``Bushwhacker,'' it's just more of ``We must unite to write, create/Abolish stereotypes, fight hate.'' A broken record.
Pub Date: Sept. 25, 1994
ISBN: 1-878067-52-4
Page Count: 270
Publisher: Seal Press
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1994
BOOK REVIEW
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
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.
A lonely postman learns that he’s about to die—and reflects on life as he bargains with a Hawaiian-shirt–wearing devil.
The 30-year-old first-person narrator in filmmaker/novelist Kawamura’s slim novel is, by his own admission, “boring…a monotone guy,” so unimaginative that, when he learns he has a brain tumor, the bucket list he writes down is dull enough that “even the cat looked disgusted with me.” Luckily—or maybe not—a friendly devil, dubbed Aloha, pops onto the scene, and he’s willing to make a deal: an extra day of life in exchange for being allowed to remove something pleasant from the world. The first thing excised is phones, which goes well enough. (The narrator is pleasantly surprised to find that “people seemed to have no problem finding something to fill up their free time.”) But deals with the devil do have a way of getting complicated. This leads to shallow musings (“Sometimes, when you rewatch a film after not having seen it for a long time, it makes a totally different impression on you than it did the first time you saw it. Of course, the movie hasn’t changed; it’s you who’s changed") written in prose so awkward, it’s possibly satire (“Tears dripped down onto the letter like warm, salty drops of rain”). Even the postman’s beloved cat, who gains the power of speech, ends up being prim and annoying. The narrator ponders feelings about a lost love, his late mother, and his estranged father in a way that some readers might find moving at times. But for many, whatever made this book a bestseller in Japan is going to be lost in translation.
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.Pub Date: March 12, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-250-29405-0
Page Count: 176
Publisher: Flatiron Books
Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019
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