Uh-huh.
After a pair of successful memoirs (Of Time and Memory, 1999; The Cliff Walk, 1997), Snyder returns to fiction with a bland and platitudinous novel.
Massachusetts housewife Nora Andrews’s life is ruptured by the simultaneous discoveries that she is pregnant again at age 43 and that her husband is sleeping with another woman. Confused, dejected, with a “little grain of rice” in her belly, she absconds to Ireland, where she spent some time 20 years ago when her two children were toddlers. Abortion being illegal in the Republic, she makes her way to Northern Ireland and the town of Omagh—on the very day of that city’s infamous 1998 bombing by the IRA. In the aftermath of the blast, Nora gives shelter to a wounded British soldier, Capt. James Blackburn, who, the reader already knows, has conspired to reverse the IRA’s warning so that the crowd goes toward rather than away from the bomb area. While Blackburn’s motives make superficial sense—rescue the peace process by turning the people against the IRA—the fact that he is responsible for so many deaths makes him an unsympathetic figure and a deeply bizarre love interest for Nora. As she drives him around Northern Ireland, eluding the police and the IRA, Nora has epiphanies of desperate banality. Life is “a deep secret that never fully reveals itself to us”; “we cross borders of time and the person we once were, we leave behind”; “she was thinking that maybe love is nothing more complicated than looking up to find someone looking at you, waiting to meet your glance.” After saving the captain’s life and encountering all the Irish stereotypes known to man, Nora comes to yet another understanding. She must do what the kindly priest has told her: “Go and live, Nora. Spread your light across the world, and live.”
Uh-huh.Pub Date: June 15, 2001
ISBN: 0-375-40906-8
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2001
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
The Brat Pack meets The Bacchae in this precious, way-too-long, and utterly unsuspenseful town-and-gown murder tale. A bunch of ever-so-mandarin college kids in a small Vermont school are the eager epigones of an aloof classics professor, and in their exclusivity and snobbishness and eagerness to please their teacher, they are moved to try to enact Dionysian frenzies in the woods. During the only one that actually comes off, a local farmer happens upon them—and they kill him. But the death isn't ruled a murder—and might never have been if one of the gang—a cadging sybarite named Bunny Corcoran—hadn't shown signs of cracking under the secret's weight. And so he too is dispatched. The narrator, a blank-slate Californian named Richard Pepen chronicles the coverup. But if you're thinking remorse-drama, conscience masque, or even semi-trashy who'll-break-first? page-turner, forget it: This is a straight gee-whiz, first-to-have-ever-noticed college novel—"Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally thought to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion." First-novelist Tartt goes muzzy when she has to describe human confrontations (the murder, or sex, or even the ping-ponging of fear), and is much more comfortable in transcribing aimless dorm-room paranoia or the TV shows that the malefactors anesthetize themselves with as fate ticks down. By telegraphing the murders, Tartt wants us to be continually horrified at these kids—while inviting us to semi-enjoy their manneristic fetishes and refined tastes. This ersatz-Fitzgerald mix of moralizing and mirror-looking (Jay McInerney shook and poured the shaker first) is very 80's—and in Tartt's strenuous version already seems dated, formulaic. Les Nerds du Mal—and about as deep (if not nearly as involving) as a TV movie.
Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992
ISBN: 1400031702
Page Count: 592
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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