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OUR SECRET'S OUT

STORIES

Spencer (A Woman Packing a Pistol, 1987—not reviewed) cops a high-flying attitude in the 12 stories collected here—all about various odd ducks or blue-collar types, most of whom live in Las Vegas, Utah, and Nevada. In ``Song and Dance,'' a young golfer hits balls ``into the mesquite and sagebrush'' but dreams of turning pro with the financial help of rich Uncle Beaner; Beaner considers the pro circuit a ``floor show,'' however, and instead gets the narrator a job at Juvenile Hall. Spencer's riffs are jazzy all the way through, but, unfortunately, the voice never deepens. The same is true for many pieces here—``Let Me Tell You What Ward DiPino Tells Me at Work,'' for example, is told by a convenience-store clerk who has to deal with the crazy customer of the title and with a near- lunatic girlfriend: ``DiPino's footwork is skip-rope rococo.'' The author braids alliteration and syntax to keep our attention, but the smart-alecky voice wears thin finally—as in ``Halloween,'' a present-tense tale in which a man (``I may be losing it. I may be nuts'') greets trick-or-treaters in his underwear and reaches a violent epiphany in a style that feels mannered. Other stories (``Nothing Sad, Once You Look at It,'' ``As Long as Lust Is Short'') explore blue-collar territory, though again the voice after a certain point becomes cloying. Spencer's a talented writer who can snap his fingers and go, but here there are too many forced epiphanies—as though stories try to claim territory that's been looked at and passed over but not explored.

Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1993

ISBN: 0-8262-0927-0

Page Count: 176

Publisher: Univ. of Missouri

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 1993

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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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A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS

As Tolkien had his Silmarillion, so Martin has this trilogy of foundational tales. They succeed on their own, but in...

Huzzah! Martin (The Ice Dragon, 2014, etc.) delivers just what fans have been waiting for: stirring tales of the founding of the Targaryen line.

Duncan—Dunk for short—has his hapless moments. He’s big, nearly gigantic, “hugely tall for his age, a shambling, shaggy, big-boned boy of sixteen or seventeen.” Uncertain of himself, clumsy, and alone in the world, he has every one of the makings of a hero, if only events will turn in that direction. They do, courtesy of a tiny boy who steals into the “hedge knight” Dunk’s life and eventually reveals a name to match that of Ser Duncan the Tall—an altogether better name, at that, than Duncan of Flea Bottom would have been. Egg, as the squire calls himself, has a strange light about him, as if he will be destined to go on to better things, as indeed he will. Reminiscent of a simpler Arthur Rackham, the illustrations capture that light, as they do the growing friendship between Dunk and Egg—think Manute Bol and Muggsy Bogues, if your knowledge of basketball matches your interest in fantasy. This being Martin, that friendship will not be without its fraught moments, its dangers and double crosses and knightly politics. There are plenty of goopily violent episodes as well, from jousts (“this time Lord Leo Tyrell aimed his point so expertly he ripped the Grey Lion’s helm cleanly off his head”) to medieval torture (“Egg…used the hat to fan away the flies. There were hundreds crawling on the dead men, and more drifting lazily through the still, hot air.”). Throughout, Martin delivers thoughtful foreshadowing of the themes and lineages that will populate his Ice and Fire series, in which Egg, it turns out, is much less fragile than he seems.

As Tolkien had his Silmarillion, so Martin has this trilogy of foundational tales. They succeed on their own, but in addition, they succeed in making fans want more—and with luck, Martin will oblige them with more of these early yarns.

Pub Date: Oct. 6, 2015

ISBN: 978-0-345-53348-7

Page Count: 368

Publisher: Bantam

Review Posted Online: Oct. 6, 2015

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2015

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