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NOTES FROM THE FOG

Richly imagined stories though this fog is a particularly dark one.

Domestic dysfunction gets some techno-dystopian twists in Marcus’ third story collection (Leaving the Sea, 2014, etc.).

For Marcus, a true believer in the austere, skeptical, experimental branches of American fiction (Donald Barthelme, Don DeLillo, Dana Spiotta), outside forces of nature and technology are always threatening to unsettle everyday existence. In “The Grow-Light Blues,” a man becomes a guinea pig for his employer’s efforts to deliver nutrients via a lamp, which takes a physical and psychic toll. Similarly, the narrator of “The Trees of Sawtooth Park” is a test case for a mood-altering spray, and the story’s careful shift in tone from sarcastic to submissive implies a costly kind of success. If high-tech “improvements” aren’t the problem, low-tech catastrophes will step in: Two stories, “The Sun” and “Stay Down and Take It,” deal with characters whose crumbled relationships are paralleled by approaching massive storms. (“So much of our relationship depends on him being alive,” deadpans the latter story’s narrator about her spouse. “Almost all of it.”) And then there are problems whose sources are harder to pinpoint, as in “Cold Little Bird,” in which a 10-year-old boy baffles his Jewish parents by becoming an anti-Semitic 9/11 truther. Pushback against oppressive parenting? Mental illness? Something in the ether? Marcus allows for every allegorical option while sustaining a peculiar seriocomic mood. Compared to his previous works, these are more conventional narratives, though he still admires abstracted metafiction; “Critique” imagines a hospital that’s a kind of artistic commentary on hospital. But his storytelling is easier to coolly respect than fall for given how storm-clouded it is: We are “anguished little need machines,” he writes, and asks, “Who does not seem pained, finally, when you examine them closely enough?”

Richly imagined stories though this fog is a particularly dark one.

Pub Date: Aug. 22, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-101-94745-6

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Knopf

Review Posted Online: May 27, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2018

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THE SECRET HISTORY

The Brat Pack meets The Bacchae in this precious, way-too-long, and utterly unsuspenseful town-and-gown murder tale. A bunch of ever-so-mandarin college kids in a small Vermont school are the eager epigones of an aloof classics professor, and in their exclusivity and snobbishness and eagerness to please their teacher, they are moved to try to enact Dionysian frenzies in the woods. During the only one that actually comes off, a local farmer happens upon them—and they kill him. But the death isn't ruled a murder—and might never have been if one of the gang—a cadging sybarite named Bunny Corcoran—hadn't shown signs of cracking under the secret's weight. And so he too is dispatched. The narrator, a blank-slate Californian named Richard Pepen chronicles the coverup. But if you're thinking remorse-drama, conscience masque, or even semi-trashy who'll-break-first? page-turner, forget it: This is a straight gee-whiz, first-to-have-ever-noticed college novel—"Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally thought to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion." First-novelist Tartt goes muzzy when she has to describe human confrontations (the murder, or sex, or even the ping-ponging of fear), and is much more comfortable in transcribing aimless dorm-room paranoia or the TV shows that the malefactors anesthetize themselves with as fate ticks down. By telegraphing the murders, Tartt wants us to be continually horrified at these kids—while inviting us to semi-enjoy their manneristic fetishes and refined tastes. This ersatz-Fitzgerald mix of moralizing and mirror-looking (Jay McInerney shook and poured the shaker first) is very 80's—and in Tartt's strenuous version already seems dated, formulaic. Les Nerds du Mal—and about as deep (if not nearly as involving) as a TV movie.

Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992

ISBN: 1400031702

Page Count: 592

Publisher: Knopf

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992

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THINGS FALL APART

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

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