At his best when he artfully blends comedy and pathos (Deaf Sentence, 2008, etc.), Lodge returns to the fictional biography genre that didn’t serve him particularly well in Author, Author (2004).
At least, unlike Henry James (the earlier novel’s protagonist), H.G. Wells had an eventful life rife with political controversies and a tangled variety of love affairs, as well as bestselling books ranging from early sci-fi classics such as The War of the Worlds to popular nonfiction like The Outline of History. The books are conscientiously covered; indeed, the novel reminds us just how influential and famous Wells was from the 1890s through World War I. But his romantic life is the main focus here, as the writer looks back from the vantage point of 1944 on his tumultuous relations with a parade of independent young women who worshipped him as a titillating socialist/feminist bad boy. They offered sexual excitement while wife Jane provided domestic comforts at home. His straitlaced comrades at the Fabian Society were appalled by Wells’ open espousal of free love—especially in the several cases where their daughters took him up on it—and resistant to his desire to make the Society more populist and aggressive. He eventually parted ways with the Fabians, just as he did with his youthful lovers, though his turbulent relationship with Rebecca West lasted the longest and produced an understandably neurotic son. The character sketches are sharp, particularly of West and of fellow Fabians George Bernard Shaw and Edith Bland (better known as children’s novelist E. Nesbit), and Wells’ uneasy friendship with Henry James is hilariously expressed in fulsomely insincere letters on both sides. (Its rupture after Wells publishes a cruel satire of James’ baroque style is surprisingly moving.) Yet Lodge’s well-written book doesn’t offer any unusual insights that justify making this straightforward narrative of Wells’ most prominent and productive years a novel rather than a biography. Readable but ultimately rather pointless.
Pub Date: Sept. 19, 2011
ISBN: 978-0-670-02298-4
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Viking
Review Posted Online: July 5, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2011
IN THE NEWS
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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