Goldner’s neurotic list-maker narrator is also endearing, in a debut with emotional resonance. Heartfelt, interior work.
A notable first novel by Goldner (stories:Wake , 2003) takes up the depressed plight of a Philadelphia census taker obsessed with asking questions.
Before linguistics-professor Quinn, her boyfriend of three years, up and left her for an older widow named Grace, and then got hit by a car while reading Proust, Anjou Lovett was a well-adjusted and even contented tax accountant living with Quinn in her stately own house in the idyllic Philadelphia hamlet of Glyn Neath. Yet the death of Quinn, who was handsome and chronically unfaithful, reminds Anjou (conceived under a pear tree in 1965) of the nagging family drama in her own past she can no longer ignore: her father walked in and out on her mother’s life while he was loving another woman. Anjou, at 35, has never forgiven her father for his desertion of her and her younger sister, Stella, until Quinn’s perfidy (and untimely death) prompts her to seek answers to questions she always meant to ask. Getting fired from her accounting job and securing work roaming her neighborhood completing forms for the U.S. Census is her perverse attempt at finding emotional recourse. The questions she puts to her neighbors, however, become increasingly more bizarre, such as whether they have cheated on their spouse (“I wanted to dispel my own notion that men are the natural cheaters in relationships,” she explains), and whether they have ever wished somebody they love would die. Troubling questions, indeed, and Anjou is eventually reported to her manager and her job terminated. But at her sensible, married sister Stella’s urging, Anjou begins to make overtures at rapprochement with her father, then with Grace, both of whom she presents with a list of questions she urgently needs answered. What should she do with the information that Grace never loved Quinn in the first place?
Goldner’s neurotic list-maker narrator is also endearing, in a debut with emotional resonance. Heartfelt, interior work.Pub Date: July 5, 2005
ISBN: 1-58243-270-8
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Counterpoint
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2005
BOOK REVIEW
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
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
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
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
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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