by Aharon Appelfeld and translated by Aloma Halter ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 10, 2009
A story that is, paradoxically, low-key and intense.
A quiet narrative of high expectation and muted desperation from Israeli writer Appelfeld (All Whom I Have Loved, 2007, etc.).
Set in a vaguely pre-war period in the 20th century, the book recounts the journey of a caravan meandering through Eastern Europe and trying to get to Jerusalem, which is continually held out as a promised land of health and healing. As Sruel, one of the de facto leaders of the convoy comments, “Everything is filthy except for Jerusalem.” The eponymous Laish, an adolescent orphan, narrates his story of despair and hope. Appelfeld writes in an unadorned yet forceful style, taking Laish and his companions through a series of adventures that are too subtle to be called harrowing; still, they test the mettle of the Jewish vagabonds involved in the journey. Some of the conflicts involve traders dabbling in shady business deals that bring in money for the continuation of the pilgrimage. One of the original leaders dies, leaving Laish a book in which to record the deaths of others, not exactly a propitious beginning for the journey. Other forces are also at work to pull apart the group—attacks by hostile ethnic subcultures, for example, and rain and plague. Laish is also tempted by the distractions of wine and women, going so far as to steal money from Blind Menachem in an anguished attempt to recover Maya, a prostitute he’d encountered in a city along the way. Eventually the travelers hear rumors of the possibility of taking a ship to Jerusalem, so the few remaining members sell their wagons and horses and go to Galacz to await a ship. There they’re forced to commit one last desperate act to ensure their survival, one that while not overly noticeable in the grand scheme of their journey is nonetheless fraught with pain.
A story that is, paradoxically, low-key and intense.Pub Date: March 10, 2009
ISBN: 978-0-8052-4159-4
Page Count: 240
Publisher: Schocken
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2009
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by Aharon Appelfeld ; translated by Stuart Schoffman
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by Margaret Atwood ‧ RELEASE DATE: Feb. 17, 1985
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
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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
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SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
by Chinua Achebe ‧ RELEASE DATE: Jan. 23, 1958
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
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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
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