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LITTLE SISTER DEATH

More poetic than horrific, this novel is a contemplation of place and people, belief and culture—as if Faulkner had written...

From the nexus where Southern writing meets gothic, Gay’s (Time Done Been Won't Be No More, 2010, etc.) posthumous novel is a reimagining of a 19th-century Tennessee Hill Country legend.

It's the early 1980s, and David Binder, a Tennessee boy living in Chicago, has been scrabbling along with factory jobs to support his wife and baby while working on a novel. A publisher buys the book, but its success is more literary than commercial. Next comes writer’s block. David's agent suggests genre fiction: "Write something we can sell to the paperback house. Write a horror novel." Seeking inspiration, he stumbles upon The Beale Haunting, a 19th-century Tennessee ghost story. What follows is a mixture of Flannery O’Connor and Stephen King as David heads south, wife and daughter in tow, and learns that the isolated Beale house still stands. He takes a six-month lease. The narrative moves back and forth in time, and Gay’s gut-wrenching opening pages, in which a doctor is kidnapped to tend a birth at the Beale house circa 1785, are written in the fire and blood of Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha County. David grows ever more obsessive as he taps into "a dark malignancy in the bowels of the house." Gay paints with words—"The moonshine was black and silver, blurred from hours of darkness like an ink sketch left in the rain"—and draws scenes radiating a hard-earned vision of rural Southern life, like a whittler with "soft, curling shavings mounding delicately in the lap of his overalls" or a sharecropper who finds himself "lawed off" the land he's been working after a fight with his landlord. As apparitions appear, Gay’s story weaves connections between past and present; soon Binder forgets his book and becomes obsessed with the dark mystery nestled in "some foreign province of the heart."

More poetic than horrific, this novel is a contemplation of place and people, belief and culture—as if Faulkner had written The Shining.

Pub Date: Sept. 29, 2015

ISBN: 978-1-938103-13-1

Page Count: 224

Publisher: Dzanc

Review Posted Online: June 28, 2015

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2015

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NORMAL PEOPLE

Absolutely enthralling. Read it.

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A young Irish couple gets together, splits up, gets together, splits up—sorry, can't tell you how it ends!

Irish writer Rooney has made a trans-Atlantic splash since publishing her first novel, Conversations With Friends, in 2017. Her second has already won the Costa Novel Award, among other honors, since it was published in Ireland and Britain last year. In outline it's a simple story, but Rooney tells it with bravura intelligence, wit, and delicacy. Connell Waldron and Marianne Sheridan are classmates in the small Irish town of Carricklea, where his mother works for her family as a cleaner. It's 2011, after the financial crisis, which hovers around the edges of the book like a ghost. Connell is popular in school, good at soccer, and nice; Marianne is strange and friendless. They're the smartest kids in their class, and they forge an intimacy when Connell picks his mother up from Marianne's house. Soon they're having sex, but Connell doesn't want anyone to know and Marianne doesn't mind; either she really doesn't care, or it's all she thinks she deserves. Or both. Though one time when she's forced into a social situation with some of their classmates, she briefly fantasizes about what would happen if she revealed their connection: "How much terrifying and bewildering status would accrue to her in this one moment, how destabilising it would be, how destructive." When they both move to Dublin for Trinity College, their positions are swapped: Marianne now seems electric and in-demand while Connell feels adrift in this unfamiliar environment. Rooney's genius lies in her ability to track her characters' subtle shifts in power, both within themselves and in relation to each other, and the ways they do and don't know each other; they both feel most like themselves when they're together, but they still have disastrous failures of communication. "Sorry about last night," Marianne says to Connell in February 2012. Then Rooney elaborates: "She tries to pronounce this in a way that communicates several things: apology, painful embarrassment, some additional pained embarrassment that serves to ironise and dilute the painful kind, a sense that she knows she will be forgiven or is already, a desire not to 'make a big deal.' " Then: "Forget about it, he says." Rooney precisely articulates everything that's going on below the surface; there's humor and insight here as well as the pleasure of getting to know two prickly, complicated people as they try to figure out who they are and who they want to become.

Absolutely enthralling. Read it.

Pub Date: April 16, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-984-82217-8

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Hogarth

Review Posted Online: Feb. 17, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019

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THE BLUEST EYE

"This soil," concludes the young narrator of this quiet chronicle of garrotted innocence, "is bad for all kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear." And among the exclusions of white rural Ohio, echoed by black respectability, is ugly, black, loveless, twelve-year-old Pecola. But in a world where blue-eyed gifts are clucked over and admired, and the Pecolas are simply not seen, there is always the possibility of the dream and wish—for blue eyes. Born of a mother who adjusted her life to the clarity and serenity of white households and "acquired virtues that were easy to maintain" and a father, Cholly, stunted by early rejections and humiliations, Pecola just might have been loved—for in raping his daughter Cholly did at least touch her. But "Love is never better than the lover," and with the death of her baby, the child herself, accepting absolutely the gift of blue eyes from a faith healer (whose perverse interest in little girls does not preclude understanding), inches over into madness. A skillful understated tribute to the fall of a sparrow for whose small tragedy there was no watching eye.

Pub Date: Oct. 29, 1970

ISBN: 0375411550

Page Count: -

Publisher: Holt Rinehart & Winston

Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1970

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