Gortner (Mademoiselle Chanel, 2015, etc.) has imagined Lucrezia Borgia’s life from a feminist perspective.
As the 16th century dawns, Columbus has brought word of new lands to Queen Isabella, Savonarola leads a reign of terror in Florence, and Rodrigo Borgia is bargaining his daughter, Lucrezia, to claim the Throne of Peter in Rome.
In an era when priestly vows of chastity were honored in the breach, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia had four children by a mistress. Borgia, who would become Pope Alexander VI, gains his papacy with the support of the troublesome Milanese, particularly Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, whom he names vice-chancellor. Borgia’s 13-year-old daughter, Lucrezia, his farfallina—"little butterfly"—will marry Giovanni Sforza, the cardinal's cousin, in more political payoff. Rodrigo’s patronage, political power, and wealth made Lucrezia a valuable consort because family alliances between the Sforzas, Gonzagas, d’Estes, and Medicis controlled Italy’s city-states. Gortner’s novel is one of character: Borgia pater, of course, but also Lucrezia, intelligent and poised, and her "keen and capable" brother Cesare, named Cardinal of Valencia fresh from seminary. Teenage Lucrezia is mature beyond her years, but she’s only a pawn in her father’s game of thrones. Soon, however, "political convenience" will lead to the annulment of Lucrezia’s unconsummated marriage to Sforza. Later, Lucrezia makes a love match with Alfonso of Aragon, Prince of Naples, but Cesare disapproves of his father’s indulgence, to Lucrezia’s regret. Lucrezia remains a sympathetic character, conversant in literature and philosophy, with every Borgia evil laid at the feet of her father, ambitious and calculating, or Cesare, a brilliant and amoral psychopath with a lifelong near-incestuous love for his sister. In a literary exploration riven with Shakespearean quantities of murder, lies, deceptions, and treachery, Gortner’s narrative gains veracity with his atmospheric exploration of fashion, architecture, and art on the stage of "loud, filthy, and dangerous" Rome.
Gortner (Mademoiselle Chanel, 2015, etc.) has imagined Lucrezia Borgia’s life from a feminist perspective.Pub Date: Feb. 9, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-345-53397-5
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Dec. 8, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2015
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.
Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.
In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3
Page Count: 448
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014
BOOK TO SCREEN
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
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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