Peevish, polished travel reports by a novelist (Health and Happiness, 1990, etc.), biographer (Dashiell Hammett, 1983), and book critic (Terrorists and Novelists, 1982). Johnson's voyages, which range from Thailand to Utah, have taught her that ``travel brings us as nothing else does to a sense of ourselves,'' and that, when interacting with locals, ``the actual existence of these people is irrelevant to the passions...they arouse.'' This, then, is a self-referential, almost solipsistic approach to travel in which the voyager becomes an armored vehicle nosing through alien lands, shooting barbed observations at will. A typical interlude occurs on a ``tiny, shabby'' boat off Australia, when Johnson sneers that another passenger ``had no conversations, had never been anywhere...I thought about how sad it was to be him.'' Later, though, she admits that ``I know I've been a pig''; Johnson never hesitates to turn her guns on herself. Balancing this sniping is her splendid descriptive talent; stepping on to the Great Barrier Reef, she finds it ``entirely alive, made of eyeless formations of cabbagey creatures sucking and opening and closing, yearning towards tiny ponds of water.'' But sourness rules the day. In India, a potentially funny episode concerning a cracked bottle of wine turns into a fiasco; in Africa, Johnson scolds ivory traders; in Switzerland, ``there seemed to be nothing pink, light, luxurious, no concept of decor.'' The author's vision seems blinkered, in part, by her social class: In Japan, she complains that ``all is Vuitton bags and Chanel,'' and usually she finds peasants frightening or disgusting. Travels in England, South Africa, Egypt, Singapore, and China leave the same bitter aftertaste. Johnson's honesty is admirable: Isolation and discomfort are part of the traveler's lot, unacknowledged in the guidebooks. But most travelers find ways to overcome them, and very few make their readers suffer through the ordeal. Just like natural opium: crystalline images and insights that leave a nasty headache. Maybe Johnson should have stayed at home.
Pub Date: Jan. 14, 1993
ISBN: 0-679-41346-4
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 1992
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis...
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").Pub Date: May 15, 1972
ISBN: 0205632645
Page Count: 105
Publisher: Macmillan
Review Posted Online: Oct. 28, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 1972
This is not the Nutcracker sweet, as passed on by Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa. No, this is the original Hoffmann tale of 1816, in which the froth of Christmas revelry occasionally parts to let the dark underside of childhood fantasies and fears peek through. The boundaries between dream and reality fade, just as Godfather Drosselmeier, the Nutcracker's creator, is seen as alternately sinister and jolly. And Italian artist Roberto Innocenti gives an errily realistic air to Marie's dreams, in richly detailed illustrations touched by a mysterious light. A beautiful version of this classic tale, which will captivate adults and children alike. (Nutcracker; $35.00; Oct. 28, 1996; 136 pp.; 0-15-100227-4)
Pub Date: Oct. 28, 1996
ISBN: 0-15-100227-4
Page Count: 136
Publisher: Harcourt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 1996
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