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VIDUI

An extended riff on deathbed scenes that doesn’t transcend its static premise.

Slavitt (Day Sailing, 2018, etc.) chronicles the final days of a dying man in this metafictional novel.

The Vidui, the author explains, is Judaism’s final prayer, to be recited in moments of imminent death. It’s “not so much a confession, although that is the usual translation of the Hebrew word, as an acknowledgment,” the narrator notes. The dying person, in this case, is Vernon Dewey (or “V. Dewey”). He lies in bed, surrounded by family, although both the room and the family are vaguely described, at first. At one point, he pretends to be asleep, so that he can hear what his relatives might say about him; he moves his left foot slightly, just to see if anyone will notice. He later considers how he feels about the people who have wronged him over the course of his life. As Vernon lies in the bed, the narrator ruminates on all things relating to death: religions, medicine, the concept of legacy, literature, grief, regret, boredom, humiliation. As loquacious as the narrator is, Vernon is the opposite. In fact, he’s having trouble thinking of things to say to those around him—or even deciding if he wants to say anything at all. (At one point, when his grandson Jacob tells him that it’s okay that they aren’t saying much to each other, Vernon says, relieved, “I was worried that you might ask me something stupid, like ‘Did you like your life?’ ”) But can he think of a worthwhile statement before the end comes? Or maybe even a prayer? The isolation of death, and the inability of language or action or sentiment to remedy that isolation, is the main theme of this novel. As a result, there’s little in the way of a traditional plot. Slavitt—or the godlike narrator, whoever he may be—admits as much several times, even applauding the reader for continuing on despite that fact. Indeed, the narrator is the main presence in the novel, and readers are asked to consider his thoughts on wordplay, Schrödinger’s cat, and famous fictional frogs before being introduced to Vernon. Thereafter, the prose is mostly clever and engaging: “Lately, Vernon has not bothered to read the obituaries, the section of the paper to which (until recently) he turned first, because that was the only real news. He was like one of those noblemen who has a chart on the wall and with each death gets closer to inheriting the throne.” Slavitt does, however, enjoy puns to a degree that may offend a certain portion of his potential readership: “Is there a plot? Actually, yes. Vernon’s parents bought a plot with room for four graves.” The novel is rather short at 125 pages, but even so, readers must work to get to the end, and despite Slavitt’s obvious gifts as a writer and thinker, it isn’t quite as satisfying as conceptual anti-novels by other writers, such as the late David Markson.

An extended riff on deathbed scenes that doesn’t transcend its static premise.

Pub Date: Oct. 31, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-60489-232-1

Page Count: 125

Publisher: Livingston Press

Review Posted Online: Oct. 8, 2021

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LONESOME DOVE

This is a masterly novel. It will appeal to all lovers of fiction of the first order.

This large, stately, and intensely powerful new novel by the author of Terms of Endearment and The Last Picture Show is constructed around a cattle drive—an epic journey from dry, hard-drinking south Texas, where a band of retired Texas Rangers has been living idly, to the last outpost and the last days of the old, unsettled West in rough Montana.

The time is the 1880s. The characters are larger than life and shimmer: Captain Woodrow Call, who leads the drive, is the American type of an unrelentingly righteous man whose values are puritanical and pioneering and whose orders, which his men inevitably follow, lead, toward the end, to their deaths; talkative Gus McCrae, Call's best friend, learned, lenient, almost magically skilled in a crisis, who is one of those who dies; Newt, the unacknowledged 17-year-old son of Captain Call's one period of self-indulgence and the inheritor of what will become a new and kinder West; and whores, drivers, misplaced sheriffs and scattered settlers, all of whom are drawn sharply, engagingly, movingly. As the rag-tag band drives the cattle 3,000 miles northward, only Call fails to learn that his quest to conquer more new territories in the West is futile—it's a quest that perishes as men are killed by natural menaces that soon will be tamed and by half-starved renegades who soon will die at the hands of those less heroic than themselves. McMurtry shows that it is a quest misplaced in history, in a landscape that is bare of buffalo but still mythic; and it is only one of McMurtry's major accomplishments that he does it without forfeiting a grain of the characters' sympathetic power or of the book's considerable suspense.

This is a masterly novel. It will appeal to all lovers of fiction of the first order.

Pub Date: June 1, 1985

ISBN: 068487122X

Page Count: 872

Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 1985

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THE CATCHER IN THE RYE

A strict report, worthy of sympathy.

A violent surfacing of adolescence (which has little in common with Tarkington's earlier, broadly comic, Seventeen) has a compulsive impact.

"Nobody big except me" is the dream world of Holden Caulfield and his first person story is down to the basic, drab English of the pre-collegiate. For Holden is now being bounced from fancy prep, and, after a vicious evening with hall- and roommates, heads for New York to try to keep his latest failure from his parents. He tries to have a wild evening (all he does is pay the check), is terrorized by the hotel elevator man and his on-call whore, has a date with a girl he likes—and hates, sees his 10 year old sister, Phoebe. He also visits a sympathetic English teacher after trying on a drunken session, and when he keeps his date with Phoebe, who turns up with her suitcase to join him on his flight, he heads home to a hospital siege. This is tender and true, and impossible, in its picture of the old hells of young boys, the lonesomeness and tentative attempts to be mature and secure, the awful block between youth and being grown-up, the fright and sickness that humans and their behavior cause the challenging, the dramatization of the big bang. It is a sorry little worm's view of the off-beat of adult pressure, of contemporary strictures and conformity, of sentiment….

A strict report, worthy of sympathy.

Pub Date: June 15, 1951

ISBN: 0316769177

Page Count: -

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 1951

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