Grandiose, feverish, opaque.
Virtually all of McCarthy's idiosyncratic fiction (The Orchard Keeper, Child of God, Suttree) is suffused with fierce pessimism, relentlessly illustrating the feral destiny of mankind; and this new novel is no exception—though it is equally committed to a large allegorical structure, one that yanks its larger-than-life figures across a sere historical stage.
“The kid”—a Tennessee teenager—wanders aimlessly into the Texas Indian wars of the 1850s. First he's taken on by a wandering troop of ex-American soldiers, planning its own raid into Mexico. Then, after thoroughgoing slaughter of the troops by the Indians, the kid survives to be recruited as a scalp-hunter in a band of Mexican-financed marauders—led by a madman named Glanton, along with his associate: The Judge, a hairless God-or-devil figure who is capable of great ingenuity (when the men run out of gunpowder, The Judge alchemizes a new batch) but who also indulges in eccentric sermons to explain his bloodthirsty brand of philosophy. (“If God meant to intrude in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now?...The way of the world is to bloom and to flower and die but in the affairs of men there is no waning and the noon of his expression signals the onset of night. His spirit is exhausted at the peak of its achievement. His meridian is at once his darkening and the evening of his days.”) McCarthy, even more than in previous novels, strains for prophetic, Bible-like tones here—with a cast of allegorical types (a judge, a fool, an ex-priest, the kid) and an archaic vocabulary that lurches from “kerfs” and “bedight” to “rimpled” and “thrapple.” But, though there's something stubbornly impressive about McCarthy's unwavering gloom, the novel's unceasing slaughter sometimes suggests a spaghetti-western without a hero, all gore and blazing sun—while its stentorian, pretentious prose will quickly dissuade most readers from attempting to share McCarthy's dark vision. (“He'd long forsworn all weighing of consequence and allowing as he did that men's destinies are given yet he usurped to contain within him all that he would ever be in the world and all that the world would be to him and be his charter written in the urstone itself he claimed agency and said so and,” etc.).
Grandiose, feverish, opaque.Pub Date: March 1, 1982
ISBN: 0679728759
Page Count: -
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1985
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A somewhat entertaining but mostly predictable story; Champagne fans and readers who can’t get enough WWII fiction will...
Harmel (The Room on Rue Amélie, 2018, etc.) returns with another historical novel set in France during World War II.
This novel alternates between 1940 at the Chauveau Champagne winery near Reims as the German occupation begins and the present day in the same area, where recently divorced Liv Kent’s 99-year-old grandmother, Edith, has brought her so that Edith can attend to some “business.” Gradually Liv begins to understand they are in Reims so she can learn what happened in 1940 that changed the futures of her grandparents, their friends, and the Chauveau winery. She discerns this in part from the new man in her life, Julien, grandson and partner of Edith’s longtime lawyer. Harmel weaves in real historical figures such as Otto Klaebisch, the “weinführer” in Champagne during the war, and Count Robert-Jean de Vogüé, Resistance leader and head of Moët & Chandon. The story of fictional Resistance member and Champagne proprietor Michel Chauveau may be realistic, but parts of the story about his young wife, Inès, are less convincing. The Chauveaus employ winemaker Theo Laurent, whose wife Céline’s family is Jewish. While Inès’ naïve insistence that Céline’s family is far from danger is somewhat understandable—many people were unable to believe what was happening at the time—it doesn’t square with her recollection of her WWI veteran father insisting “You can never trust the Huns!” Inès’ vacillating sympathies might reflect her youth, but they set up a chain of events that leads to dramatic changes in her life, which in turn set up the dramatic unveiling of Edith’s secrets in the modern section of the book. All of which requires suspension of disbelief. Liv’s love interest, while sudden, is somewhat more believable, as is Edith’s reluctance to tell Liv the family history. Even in those sections, Harmel resorts to formulaic moments, such as a mix-up about whether Julien is married and a scene where a character is welcomed to heaven with forgiving words from other characters.
A somewhat entertaining but mostly predictable story; Champagne fans and readers who can’t get enough WWII fiction will probably still enjoy it.Pub Date: Aug. 13, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-9821-1229-5
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Gallery Books/Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: May 13, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2019
Gregory’s take on the (largely male-determined) fortunes of three Tudor women is venal, petty, and jaundiced but never dull.
The latest installment of Gregory's Tudor Court series fleshes out the sparse documentation on Queen Margaret of Scotland.
This narrative of three queens is told strictly from the perspective, often acerbic, often envious, of only one: Margaret Tudor, who became Queen of Scots when she married, by long planned arrangement, King James of Scotland in 1502. From the age of 12, Margaret delights or sometimes torments herself by making invidious comparisons between herself, her younger sister, Mary, and her sister-in-law Katherine of Aragon, dubbed “Arrogant” by Margaret. As the oldest child of Henry VII, the invading Tudor who deposed Richard III, Margaret has a cynical perspective on her siblings. Arthur, firstborn son, was raised to be king, while Henry, second son, was indulged and spoiled (which, Margaret implies, will have disastrous consequences later). After Arthur dies unexpectedly in Wales, Katherine returns to court and, for a time, much to Margaret’s barely suppressed glee, is in financial limbo while her marriage to the new heir, Harry, is negotiated. Once married to James, Margaret quickly supplies a crown prince. But King Henry’s decision to invade France, Scotland’s ally, subverts the Perpetual Peace Margaret’s nuptials were intended to cement. James is forced to invade England’s border shires, and an army, commanded by Katherine, does battle with the Scots, kills James, and brings back his body as a trophy as well as his bloodied coat, which Katherine sends to Henry as proof of her military prowess. This not only outrages Margaret, but profoundly destabilizes her position. The young widow makes the strategic error of marrying her former meat carver, a charming but false-hearted earl, Archibald. The fractious Scots lairds and their French handlers exile Margaret, taking charge of her two sons. There follows a series of unfortunate, or fortunate, events, depending on how they advance or undermine Margaret’s status, not to mention her right to precede her sister and sister-in-law into the dining hall.
Gregory’s take on the (largely male-determined) fortunes of three Tudor women is venal, petty, and jaundiced but never dull.Pub Date: Aug. 9, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-476-75857-2
Page Count: 464
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: June 20, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2016
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