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MARX, DECEASED

Djerassi, a Stanford chemistry professor and the man who developed the first oral contraceptive, expressed his fascination with scientists' hunger for recognition in his first two novels (The Bourbaki Gambit, 1994; Cantor's Dilemma, 1989). His hero this time is not so different: a Pulitzer-winning novelist who so longs to know how he'll be ranked among the greats that he fakes his own death to read his obituaries. The problem with being an artist, Stephen Marx likes to say, is that there's no hierarchical structure within which one can gauge one's success or lack thereof. Working in isolation, answerable only to a faceless and generally silent public, a serious writer can count how many copies of his books sell, but how can he be sure that his work is good enough to survive through the ages? So caught up with this question is Marx (despite his Pulitzer), and so apathetic about the way his personal life is dragging along, that he arranges to fake his own death by drowning so that he can read the posthumous summations. Marx's ruse works, and he flees undetected to an anonymous life in San Francisco—but then, of course, complications ensue. First, Noah Berg, Marx's cruelest but most engaged critic, drops all plans for a book about Marx when he falls in love with Marx's ``widow,'' Miriam. Then a beautiful but nosy Columbia Journalism School student acting on a hunch hunts Marx down and threatens to expose him unless he helps her write her own biography of the author. Amidst all this turmoil, Marx is never really able to pin down his true worth as a writer- -but as the burden of his reputation is lifted, he finds himself freed to create in new and exciting ways, ensuring a slew of brilliant if anonymous novels to come. Charming characters and clever prose, though few readers are likely to care about the issue of peer review as much as Djerassi evidently does.

Pub Date: Aug. 2, 1996

ISBN: 0-8203-1835-3

Page Count: 232

Publisher: Univ. of Georgia

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 1996

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IF CATS DISAPPEARED FROM THE WORLD

Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.

A lonely postman learns that he’s about to die—and reflects on life as he bargains with a Hawaiian-shirt–wearing devil.

The 30-year-old first-person narrator in filmmaker/novelist Kawamura’s slim novel is, by his own admission, “boring…a monotone guy,” so unimaginative that, when he learns he has a brain tumor, the bucket list he writes down is dull enough that “even the cat looked disgusted with me.” Luckily—or maybe not—a friendly devil, dubbed Aloha, pops onto the scene, and he’s willing to make a deal: an extra day of life in exchange for being allowed to remove something pleasant from the world. The first thing excised is phones, which goes well enough. (The narrator is pleasantly surprised to find that “people seemed to have no problem finding something to fill up their free time.”) But deals with the devil do have a way of getting complicated. This leads to shallow musings (“Sometimes, when you rewatch a film after not having seen it for a long time, it makes a totally different impression on you than it did the first time you saw it. Of course, the movie hasn’t changed; it’s you who’s changed") written in prose so awkward, it’s possibly satire (“Tears dripped down onto the letter like warm, salty drops of rain”). Even the postman’s beloved cat, who gains the power of speech, ends up being prim and annoying. The narrator ponders feelings about a lost love, his late mother, and his estranged father in a way that some readers might find moving at times. But for many, whatever made this book a bestseller in Japan is going to be lost in translation.

Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.

Pub Date: March 12, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-250-29405-0

Page Count: 176

Publisher: Flatiron Books

Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019

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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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