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THE CHILDREN'S WAR

Ironic, absurd, pedantic, graphic, tragic, beautiful, surprising, nuanced, polyphonic, exhausting, and unmistakably...

In his fourth collection, Boyko (Novelists, 2014, etc.) plumbs for absurdities in war, childhood, parenthood, politics, revolution, and campus demonstrations.

Boyko’s six-story collection is full of crisp prose, absurdist humor, delightfully atypical craft, and—when aggregated—pessimism: In every story the characters prove incapable of enacting positive change in their lives or societies. In the first (and least impressive) story, a childish high school teacher tries to “tear the [school’s] walls down” but instead becomes “every teacher he had ever hated.” In the brilliant and moving novella Andrew and Hillary, the title characters move through childhood and into war—Hillary as a doctor; Andrew, who “never grew up,” as a reckless ambulance driver and profiteer—where they fail to do what the very structure of the story seems to suggest: fulfill each other. In “Year-End,” discontented workers overthrow their factory’s management, break into factions, emulate their former tyrannical bosses, and end up worse off than they started. In “Birth Pangs,” a woman who has every reason not to have another child—her husband is a manipulative chauvinist; her previous pregnancy was downright brutal (here, as in Andrew and Hillary, Boyko demonstrates his mastery of the lengthy, gory medical scene); and her son is an unhealthy nightmare—has to decide what to do. In “Infantry,” two armies composed of women wage a bloody (and evidently pointless) conventional war, and the women behave just as history tells us male soldiers do: They curse, swear, drink and do drugs, visit whorehouses, are cruel to replacements, kill noncombatants, make terrible mistakes, feel fear, feel nostalgia, die beautifully, die horribly, and fight on. In “The Takeover of Founders’ Hall,” hundreds of students storm a university administration building and begin making wild and disparate demands: “Troy Rosswind wanted smaller classes…Sanders Brand wanted an end to world hunger…Langdon Bellhouse wanted all telemarketers killed.” Here, as in the previous stories, the revolutionary event accomplishes real change; but the changes are not the ones that any participant, on any side, desires.

Ironic, absurd, pedantic, graphic, tragic, beautiful, surprising, nuanced, polyphonic, exhausting, and unmistakably genius—Boyko’s latest has its flaws, but oh boy does it capture the cacophonic slide toward personal and societal incoherence.

Pub Date: Sept. 11, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-77196-213-1

Page Count: 390

Publisher: Biblioasis

Review Posted Online: July 16, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2018

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THE THINGS THEY CARRIED

It's being called a novel, but it is more a hybrid: short-stories/essays/confessions about the Vietnam War—the subject that O'Brien reasonably comes back to with every book. Some of these stories/memoirs are very good in their starkness and factualness: the title piece, about what a foot soldier actually has on him (weights included) at any given time, lends a palpability that makes the emotional freight (fear, horror, guilt) correspond superbly. Maybe the most moving piece here is "On The Rainy River," about a draftee's ambivalence about going, and how he decided to go: "I would go to war—I would kill and maybe die—because I was embarrassed not to." But so much else is so structurally coy that real effects are muted and disadvantaged: O'Brien is writing a book more about earnestness than about war, and the peekaboos of this isn't really me but of course it truly is serve no true purpose. They make this an annoyingly arty book, hiding more than not behind Hemingwayesque time-signatures and puerile repetitions about war (and memory and everything else, for that matter) being hell and heaven both. A disappointment.

Pub Date: March 28, 1990

ISBN: 0618706410

Page Count: 256

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin

Review Posted Online: Oct. 2, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1990

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THINGS FALL APART

This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.

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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

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