As the clues pile up, the coming storm is expertly foreshadowed—but when it arrives, it's utterly surprising.
A sojourn in a Sicilian village sorely tests the relationships of two couples.
Ephron’s fourth novel is clearly being told in retrospect by each of the four middle-aged tourists whose lives have exploded in a manner not revealed until the end. It starts innocuously enough, as an ironic travelogue about American sophisticates abroad, first in Rome and then in the ancient coastal town of Siracusa. Finn and Taylor, from Portland, Maine, and their Botticelli-blonde 10-year-old, Snow, are traveling with their New York friends Lizzie, a magazine writer, and her novelist husband, Michael. Finn, a restaurateur, and Lizzie had a fling years ago that still resonates with each of them. Taylor, an heiress who dabbles in the tourism industry, is mainly concerned about Snow, who suffers from “extreme shyness syndrome.” Snow is captivated by Michael, who clearly knows how to flatter females of all ages. He’s currently enmeshed in an affair with a younger woman, Kath, a hostess at his and Lizzie’s favorite Italian eatery back home. Lizzie chalks Michael’s aloofness up to his novel in progress based on Stendhal’s The Red and the Black. From Rome, Michael frantically texts and emails Kath, receiving no response. None, that is, until the group arrives in Siracusa and Kath turns up at their hotel, ostensibly by coincidence. By this time Michael had given up on Kath and Lizzie was heartened by her husband’s renewed attentiveness. The situation begins to resemble a Ford Madox Ford novel, with each narrator recounting and interpreting the same encounters from vastly differing perspectives. Finn resents Michael for his casual callousness toward Lizzie, Michael is torn between two women. (Under duress, he buys Kath a gaudy ring.) Taylor detests their no-star hotel, and Lizzie fails to suspect anything even when she sees Kath wearing a man’s shirt identical to Michael’s and carrying a copy of The Red and the Black.
As the clues pile up, the coming storm is expertly foreshadowed—but when it arrives, it's utterly surprising.Pub Date: July 12, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-399-16521-4
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Blue Rider Press
Review Posted Online: May 2, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2016
PROFILES
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.
Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985
ISBN: 038549081X
Page Count: -
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
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
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
© Copyright 2025 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
