A strong example of an uncommon type of historical fiction, appealing to readers who like to see guilt punished or forgiven.
Historical fiction, set in Rome in 1945 during the fraught post-war period. With many characters based on real figures, including Pope Pius XII, this book has elements of a thriller.
At the center of Davis’ (A Peep Into the 20th Century, 1971, etc.) novel is Brendan Doherty, hard-drinking Irish prelate and canon lawyer from Philadelphia. Long a resident of Rome, long in the employ of the Vatican, he has two tasks. Implacably opposed to capital punishment, he attempts to save the confessed killer Pietro Koch from the death penalty. Suspicious and skeptical, he interrogates the saintly murderer Alessandro Serenelli, saved by a vision of his victim Maria “Marietta” Goretti. The investigation is a formality, as Goretti is to be canonized (she was, in 1950). Doherty is knotted with contradiction; alcohol and lies are the lubricants necessary to loosen his grasp of the facts and their hold on him. We meet Tommy Costa, trusty assistant to a U.S. Army general. Tommy and his general are good-hearted looters, injecting needed cash and other forms of currency into the strapped economy and strapless black market. Doherty meets Tommy in the company of impoverished royals. Rich in art and prestige but cash poor, they are not flattered; as the book proceeds, the title looks ironic. Deeply committed to conventions of novelistic verisimilitude, the book reads as a study of sin, the blackest guilt of Koch, the conflicted Doherty, the spotless soul of the saint Maria.
A strong example of an uncommon type of historical fiction, appealing to readers who like to see guilt punished or forgiven.Pub Date: May 15, 2013
ISBN: 978-1-57962-3159
Page Count: 232
Publisher: Permanent Press
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2013
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.
Atwood goes back to Gilead.
The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Nan A. Talese
Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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
© Copyright 2025 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
