A nice hybrid, combining the suspense of a good thriller with the atmosphere and texture of a family epic.
Mukherjee (Leave It to Me, 1997, etc.) offers a striking portrait of three sisters living in two worlds: the traditional Brahmin society of upper-class Calcutta, where they were born, and the secular world of the modern West they moved to as adults.
Tara, who narrates, left Calcutta happily enough as a young woman and has rarely looked back. The youngest of three daughters of a Brahmin engineer and landowner, she grew up among the Bengali elite in an atmosphere that wavered between Hindu traditionalism and secular technocracy. Well-educated, she was married to an Indian computer designer who moved her to California and got rich in Silicon Valley. Tara became Americanized enough to divorce her husband after a few years and move to San Francisco with her son. There, however, she found herself brought sharply back to Calcutta when a young man named Chris Dey showed up at her door one day claiming to be the illegitimate son of her older sister Padma and bearing a letter of introduction from Ron Dey (a childhood friend of Padma’s), who claimed to be the boy’s father. But Padma, now a New York clothing designer, knows nothing of the boy, while Ron Dey, back in India, admits that the boy is his, but not by Padma—and denies ever sending him or a letter. The mystery deepens when Tara goes to the police, who ascertain that the boy isn’t really Chris Dey but an imposter using his passport. Meanwhile, Tara finds she’s being stalked by a Bengali gangster, and her ex-husband becomes implicated in a cyberterrorism threat by Indian hackers who say they’ll unleash a supervirus that could disable every hard-drive in the US. Forget not going home again—sometimes you can’t get away in the first place, even halfway across the globe.
A nice hybrid, combining the suspense of a good thriller with the atmosphere and texture of a family epic.Pub Date: March 31, 2002
ISBN: 0-7868-6598-9
Page Count: 320
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2002
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
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
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