Thorpe’s exploration of these polarities occasionally feels manipulative. But his novel’s conceptual power and insistent...
Civilization’s survival in a climate of devastation is the theme of the British (now French resident) author’s sixth novel.
It essentially resembles such ambitious predecessors as Ulverton (1992), Pieces of Light (2000) and No Telling (2003), in which the impingement of the present upon the past virtually imprisons, as it illuminates, his characters. Thorpe tells the stories of two men brought together (though they never meet) during the final days of the Second World War. One is Corporal Neal Parry, leader of the U.S. Army patrol that enters the ruins of the Kaiser-Wilhelm Museum (destroyed by artillery fire) in the German village of Lohenfelde, where he finds the charred corpses of museum staff members, and an undamaged copy of an 18th-century oil painting, titled Landscape in Ruins. Parry removes the painting from its frame and stores it for safekeeping, hoping it may aid his hopeful climb from a career as a commercial artist to more “serious” achievement. Juxtaposed with Parry’s (rather thinly developed) story are those of the museum’s dead: bereaved secretary Frau Schenkel, a stoical good German citizen; effusive Nazi-admiring student researcher Hilde Winkel; mercurial archivist Werner Oberst (whose reverence for Martin Luther raises the issue of the great theologian’s perverse admixture of intrepid humanism and Hitler-like willfulness)—and, most prominently, acting director Heinrich Hoffer, devoted paterfamilias and art lover, whose sinecure had nevertheless been purchased by bribing SS officials. Thorpe’s searching portrayal of Herr Hoffer’s complex heart and mind blends impressively with the novel’s central tension: Between the technique of perspective that shapes the chaos of experience to manageable scale, and the sprawling energy of conquest, exploitation and rapine incarnated in the Nazis’ traducement of Germany’s proud culture.
Thorpe’s exploration of these polarities occasionally feels manipulative. But his novel’s conceptual power and insistent celebration of art’s power to endure make it a moving and rewarding reading experience.Pub Date: March 9, 2006
ISBN: 0-8050-8042-2
Page Count: 352
Publisher: Henry Holt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2005
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A deeply satisfying novel, both sensuously vivid and remarkably poignant.
Norwegian novelist Jacobsen folds a quietly powerful coming-of-age story into a rendition of daily life on one of Norway’s rural islands a hundred years ago in a novel that was shortlisted for the 2017 Man Booker International Prize.
Ingrid Barrøy, her father, Hans, mother, Maria, grandfather Martin, and slightly addled aunt Barbro are the owners and sole inhabitants of Barrøy Island, one of numerous small family-owned islands in an area of Norway barely touched by the outside world. The novel follows Ingrid from age 3 through a carefree early childhood of endless small chores, simple pleasures, and unquestioned familial love into her more ambivalent adolescence attending school off the island and becoming aware of the outside world, then finally into young womanhood when she must make difficult choices. Readers will share Ingrid’s adoration of her father, whose sense of responsibility conflicts with his romantic nature. He adores Maria, despite what he calls her “la-di-da” ways, and is devoted to Ingrid. Twice he finds work on the mainland for his sister, Barbro, but, afraid she’ll be unhappy, he brings her home both times. Rooted to the land where he farms and tied to the sea where he fishes, Hans struggles to maintain his family’s hardscrabble existence on an island where every repair is a struggle against the elements. But his efforts are Sisyphean. Life as a Barrøy on Barrøy remains precarious. Changes do occur in men’s and women’s roles, reflected in part by who gets a literal chair to sit on at meals, while world crises—a war, Sweden’s financial troubles—have unexpected impact. Yet the drama here occurs in small increments, season by season, following nature’s rhythm through deaths and births, moments of joy and deep sorrow. The translator’s decision to use roughly translated phrases in conversation—i.e., “Tha’s goen’ nohvar” for "You’re going nowhere")—slows the reading down at first but ends up drawing readers more deeply into the world of Barrøy and its prickly, intensely alive inhabitants.
A deeply satisfying novel, both sensuously vivid and remarkably poignant.Pub Date: April 7, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-77196-319-0
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Biblioasis
Review Posted Online: Jan. 12, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2020
Absolutely enthralling. Read it.
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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