For a fable, Wallace strikes a completely wrong tone, narrating his tale in short, ponderous, testimony-like recollections...
Heavy-handed fantasy set in the Deep South, from a hip young novelist (Ray in Reverse, 2000, etc.).
A young man trying to uncover the mysteries of his birth is one of the best premises in this business, and that’s what Wallace gives us. Thomas Rider knows he was born 18 years ago in the boondocks town of Ashland, Alabama (scene of Wallace’s debut, Big Fish, 1998), and he knows that his mother Lucy died bringing him into this world—but that’s about it. So, with the encouragement of his girlfriend Anna, he sets off for Ashland by himself to talk to the folks there and see what he can find out. His mother didn’t live in Ashland very long, apparently, and moved there only in order to look after a dilapidated house that her father had bought as an investment. Thomas talks to all the townsfolk who might have known Lucy (real-estate agent, innkeeper, village idiot, carpenter, etc.) and learns in short order that Ashland was (and is) a deeply strange place. Once famous as the “Watermelon Capital of the World,” it hasn’t had a watermelon crop since Lucy Rider died in childbirth. What does one have to do with the other? Apparently what assured the success of the town’s crops was an annual fertility rite in which the oldest male virgin in Ashland would be deflowered during a full moon in a watermelon patch. It seems that Lucy, when she moved to town, objected vehemently to this practice—and attempted to sabotage the rite by deflowering the chosen victim herself before the ceremony could take place. In the course of his inquiries, Thomas finds out who his father was, but that comes as something of an anticlimax, frankly, to learning the much weirder tale of his birthplace.
For a fable, Wallace strikes a completely wrong tone, narrating his tale in short, ponderous, testimony-like recollections by various townsfolk. The result: heavy, pompous, and dull.Pub Date: March 4, 2003
ISBN: 0-618-22138-7
Page Count: 240
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2002
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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
PROFILES
A modern day fable, with modern implications in a deceiving simplicity, by the author of Dickens. Dali and Others (Reynal & Hitchcock, p. 138), whose critical brilliance is well adapted to this type of satire. This tells of the revolt on a farm, against humans, when the pigs take over the intellectual superiority, training the horses, cows, sheep, etc., into acknowledging their greatness. The first hints come with the reading out of a pig who instigated the building of a windmill, so that the electric power would be theirs, the idea taken over by Napoleon who becomes topman with no maybes about it. Napoleon trains the young puppies to be his guards, dickers with humans, gradually instigates a reign of terror, and breaks the final commandment against any animal walking on two legs. The old faithful followers find themselves no better off for food and work than they were when man ruled them, learn their final disgrace when they see Napoleon and Squealer carousing with their enemies... A basic statement of the evils of dictatorship in that it not only corrupts the leaders, but deadens the intelligence and awareness of those led so that tyranny is inevitable. Mr. Orwell's animals exist in their own right, with a narrative as individual as it is apt in political parody.
Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1946
ISBN: 0452277507
Page Count: 114
Publisher: Harcourt, Brace
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1946
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