Will likely be lost on most American readers.
In his first English-language publication, award-winning Swedish author Ohlsson responds to Hjalmar Söderberg’s 1905 classic, Doctor Glas, by taking on the voice of its villain.
Söderberg’s novel is narrated by a conflicted doctor who crosses ethical boundaries to help a young woman, Helga, escape her abusive husband, a cantankerous clergyman named Gregorius old enough to be her grandfather. Ultimately Doctor Glas wins the pastor’s trust and poisons him, allowing Helga the freedom to pursue her lover. Ohlsson tells the story from Gregorius’s perspective, creating a psychological study more than twice the length of the 1905 work. In this version, Gregorius is pathetic rather than tyrannical, and his attempts to dominate Helga sexually and emotionally are tragic stabs at reclaiming his quickly fading powers. Gregorius justifies the infatuation that began when Helga was just ten years old by expressing disappointment at his inability to have a child of his own. In what will prove to be the last summer of his life, he is candid about the infantilization caused by aging and his fear of death. When he begins to suspect that Helga has been unfaithful, his rage is rooted in his own insecurity and his fear that he will die with only God’s love. Ohlsson’s humanization of a great literary monster is almost Nabokovian; the genius of his novel lies in its deliberate contrast to Söderberg’s original depiction of an utterly repulsive old man with no redeeming qualities. The revisionist retelling of classics has spurned some great works of modern fiction, but Doctor Glas is not exactly Beowulf or Jane Eyre; Ohlsson’s careful experiment in intertexual dialogue and literary interpretation seems unlikely to garner the same level of attention—at least not from Western audiences—as Grendel (1971) or Wide Sargasso Sea (1966).
Will likely be lost on most American readers.Pub Date: May 1, 2008
ISBN: 978-0-393-06652-4
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Norton
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2008
A modern day fable, with modern implications in a deceiving simplicity, by the author of Dickens. Dali and Others (Reynal & Hitchcock, p. 138), whose critical brilliance is well adapted to this type of satire. This tells of the revolt on a farm, against humans, when the pigs take over the intellectual superiority, training the horses, cows, sheep, etc., into acknowledging their greatness. The first hints come with the reading out of a pig who instigated the building of a windmill, so that the electric power would be theirs, the idea taken over by Napoleon who becomes topman with no maybes about it. Napoleon trains the young puppies to be his guards, dickers with humans, gradually instigates a reign of terror, and breaks the final commandment against any animal walking on two legs. The old faithful followers find themselves no better off for food and work than they were when man ruled them, learn their final disgrace when they see Napoleon and Squealer carousing with their enemies... A basic statement of the evils of dictatorship in that it not only corrupts the leaders, but deadens the intelligence and awareness of those led so that tyranny is inevitable. Mr. Orwell's animals exist in their own right, with a narrative as individual as it is apt in political parody.
Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1946
ISBN: 0452277507
Page Count: 114
Publisher: Harcourt, Brace
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1946
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
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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