A compelling novel by one of the masters of contemporary fiction.
A novel of substance about friendship, philosophy and politics set in the “thousand-headed hydra of Mexico City” from the prolific pen of distinguished man of letters Fuentes (The Death of Artemio Cruz, 2009, etc.).
The author immediately elevates the status of his characters—in fact almost to mythic proportions—in the sheer act of naming them. Narrator Josué Nadal recounts his close, almost inseparable, relationship with Jericó (part of whose mystery involves having no surname) but starts with an unexpected twist—Josué has been executed, his head severed from his body, so he begins his narration as literally a disembodied voice. As adolescents their lives become entangled with that of Errol Esparza, whose arrogant, distant and brutal father gives Errol something concrete to rebel against. Josué recounts the major events of his life, including his seduction by a beautiful nurse and his tutelage in philosophical inquiry, but most importantly his extraordinarily intense friendship with Jericó. They share an interest in profound philosophical questions and are particularly enamored by Nietzsche and Spinoza, and they also share sexual experiences with an infamous prostitute with a bee tattoo on her buttock. As they grow older, they drift apart—Josué becomes involved in law studies, and Jericó cryptically disappears for a while, presumably traveling abroad. In the meantime Josué becomes romantically involved with several women, the drug-addled Lucha Zapata and the stern but gorgeous Asunta Jordán, aide to Max Monroy, a mysterious and enormously rich businessman who is powerful, self-confident and presumptuous enough to treat with contempt Valentín Pedro Carrera, the president of Mexico. Josué’s erstwhile friend becomes an enemy of the state, so much so that Josué refers to him as “Jericó Iscariot,” and their friendship/brotherhood symbolically shifts from Castor and Pollux to Cain and Abel. Throughout the complex narration, Fuentes moves his characters from whorehouse to prison house to boardroom with ease and assuredness.
A compelling novel by one of the masters of contemporary fiction.Pub Date: Jan. 4, 2011
ISBN: 978-1-4000-6880-7
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: Sept. 13, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2010
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
The story's very ambiguity steadily feeds its mysteriousness and power, and Danielewski's mastery of postmodernist and...
An amazingly intricate and ambitious first novel - ten years in the making - that puts an engrossing new spin on the traditional haunted-house tale.
Texts within texts, preceded by intriguing introductory material and followed by 150 pages of appendices and related "documents" and photographs, tell the story of a mysterious old house in a Virginia suburb inhabited by esteemed photographer-filmmaker Will Navidson, his companion Karen Green (an ex-fashion model), and their young children Daisy and Chad. The record of their experiences therein is preserved in Will's film The Davidson Record - which is the subject of an unpublished manuscript left behind by a (possibly insane) old man, Frank Zampano - which falls into the possession of Johnny Truant, a drifter who has survived an abusive childhood and the perverse possessiveness of his mad mother (who is institutionalized). As Johnny reads Zampano's manuscript, he adds his own (autobiographical) annotations to the scholarly ones that already adorn and clutter the text (a trick perhaps influenced by David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest) - and begins experiencing panic attacks and episodes of disorientation that echo with ominous precision the content of Davidson's film (their house's interior proves, "impossibly," to be larger than its exterior; previously unnoticed doors and corridors extend inward inexplicably, and swallow up or traumatize all who dare to "explore" their recesses). Danielewski skillfully manipulates the reader's expectations and fears, employing ingeniously skewed typography, and throwing out hints that the house's apparent malevolence may be related to the history of the Jamestown colony, or to Davidson's Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph of a dying Vietnamese child stalked by a waiting vulture. Or, as "some critics [have suggested,] the house's mutations reflect the psychology of anyone who enters it."
The story's very ambiguity steadily feeds its mysteriousness and power, and Danielewski's mastery of postmodernist and cinema-derived rhetoric up the ante continuously, and stunningly. One of the most impressive excursions into the supernatural in many a year.Pub Date: March 6, 2000
ISBN: 0-375-70376-4
Page Count: 704
Publisher: Pantheon
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2000
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
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