Too much fellatio for a standard Harlequin number but, other than that, indistinguishable from the Spicy Romance genre.
Idiotic debut following the erotic adventures of a young Jewish maiden as she’s initiated into the secret world of a Persian harem, to emerge as the most powerful woman in the realm.
This is the kind of tale where people have names like the Great Black Eunuch and the One-Eyed Rabbi. It all begins with Rebekah. Betrothed to a brutal and ignorant blacksmith (Jacob the Fatherless) while still a child, she is branded between the breasts but promised that she will not be made to have sex before puberty. Jacob breaks his vow in short order, however, and his act pretty well establishes the pattern of their married life. Fortunately, Jacob dies while Rebekah is still young and attractive enough to make a decent living as a whore (she walks about town in sandals that spell out “follow me” in the sand). The only good thing Rebekah got from Jacob was her daughter Gold Dust, a stunning beauty who loves her mother and grows up well schooled in the arts of seduction. Eventually, somehow or other, Gold Dust ends up in the Shah’s harem, where she distinguishes herself in her ability to arouse her master even on the worst of days through a combination of looks, technique, and audacity (hint: other girls get brought into the action in novel and quite striking ways). Harems, being full of women who usually have a good deal of time on their hands, can be very bitchy places, but Gold Dust survives the inevitable backbiting to become the Shah’s favorite—and to endear herself to others of the group as well. By the close, she’ll have given birth to a daughter, the Albino Princess Raven (sic), heiress to the Peacock Throne.
Too much fellatio for a standard Harlequin number but, other than that, indistinguishable from the Spicy Romance genre.Pub Date: Aug. 21, 2002
ISBN: 0-7432-3021-3
Page Count: 384
Publisher: Scribner
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2002
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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
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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