This slim, somber debut, cast as the memoir of an American woman in mad pursuit of proficiency in flamenco music, is really a study in the higher slumming. Stiff and humorless, it captures little of the Gypsy sensibility it so seriously pretends to celebrate. In fact, the Gypsy characters here all seem alike: rotten teeth, bad clothes, and speaking an odd blend of Hemingway Spanglish. Loren, the narrator, begins her studies abroad as an affluent, 16-year-old Jewish girl who takes her chances in primitive Andalusia. There, she comes within the ``orbit'' of the legendary Diego and his nephews, who congregate at Bar Pepe in Mor¢n, where they trade tall tales, act superstitious, and, amazingly, allow ``La Gorda'' (so named for her ample bosom) to study. From this point on, time and place become an impressionistic blur: Ross intercuts a blunted story of Loren's brother, a high- strung oddball on the West Coast who becomes a Hollywood hotshot, and then dies mysteriously from a nitrous oxide overdoes. Meanwhile, Loren continues her obsession with flamenco Stateside, meeting other enthusiasts, including a dying young man who managed to record surreptitiously some of the greatest performers. On one of her return visits, Loren is disappointed to find TV at the Bar Pepe, and she feels condescension for the other non-Gypsy hangers- on, especially the women who are willing to accept their ``female'' roles as dancers rather than guitarists. So concerned is Loren with learning the ``deep songs'' of flamenco—the melodies of loneliness—that she (and the novel) seem immune to its sexual content, a surprising neglect given the thick overlay of psychobabble imposed on this self-dramatized story. A tale as didactic as this might have been better as nonfiction. As it is: a skittish debut that mistakes intensity and indirection for artistry.

Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1995

ISBN: 0-87286-306-9

Page Count: 180

Publisher: City Lights

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 1995

Did you like this book?

No Comments Yet

Kin “[find] each other’s lives inscrutable” in this rich, sharp story about the way identity is formed.

Our Verdict

  • Our Verdict
  • GET IT

  • New York Times Bestseller

  • IndieBound Bestseller


Inseparable identical twin sisters ditch home together, and then one decides to vanish.

The talented Bennett fuels her fiction with secrets—first in her lauded debut, The Mothers (2016), and now in the assured and magnetic story of the Vignes sisters, light-skinned women parked on opposite sides of the color line. Desiree, the “fidgety twin,” and Stella, “a smart, careful girl,” make their break from stultifying rural Mallard, Louisiana, becoming 16-year-old runaways in 1954 New Orleans. The novel opens 14 years later as Desiree, fleeing a violent marriage in D.C., returns home with a different relative: her 8-year-old daughter, Jude. The gossips are agog: “In Mallard, nobody married dark....Marrying a dark man and dragging his blueblack child all over town was one step too far.” Desiree's decision seals Jude’s misery in this “colorstruck” place and propels a new generation of flight: Jude escapes on a track scholarship to UCLA. Tending bar as a side job in Beverly Hills, she catches a glimpse of her mother’s doppelgänger. Stella, ensconced in white society, is shedding her fur coat. Jude, so black that strangers routinely stare, is unrecognizable to her aunt. All this is expertly paced, unfurling before the book is half finished; a reader can guess what is coming. Bennett is deeply engaged in the unknowability of other people and the scourge of colorism. The scene in which Stella adopts her white persona is a tour de force of doubling and confusion. It calls up Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, the book's 50-year-old antecedent. Bennett's novel plays with its characters' nagging feelings of being incomplete—for the twins without each other; for Jude’s boyfriend, Reese, who is trans and seeks surgery; for their friend Barry, who performs in drag as Bianca. Bennett keeps all these plot threads thrumming and her social commentary crisp. In the second half, Jude spars with her cousin Kennedy, Stella's daughter, a spoiled actress.

Kin “[find] each other’s lives inscrutable” in this rich, sharp story about the way identity is formed.

Pub Date: June 2, 2020

ISBN: 978-0-525-53629-1

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Riverhead

Review Posted Online: March 15, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2020

Did you like this book?

A strict report, worthy of sympathy.


A violent surfacing of adolescence (which has little in common with Tarkington's earlier, broadly comic, Seventeen) has a compulsive impact.

"Nobody big except me" is the dream world of Holden Caulfield and his first person story is down to the basic, drab English of the pre-collegiate. For Holden is now being bounced from fancy prep, and, after a vicious evening with hall- and roommates, heads for New York to try to keep his latest failure from his parents. He tries to have a wild evening (all he does is pay the check), is terrorized by the hotel elevator man and his on-call whore, has a date with a girl he likes—and hates, sees his 10 year old sister, Phoebe. He also visits a sympathetic English teacher after trying on a drunken session, and when he keeps his date with Phoebe, who turns up with her suitcase to join him on his flight, he heads home to a hospital siege. This is tender and true, and impossible, in its picture of the old hells of young boys, the lonesomeness and tentative attempts to be mature and secure, the awful block between youth and being grown-up, the fright and sickness that humans and their behavior cause the challenging, the dramatization of the big bang. It is a sorry little worm's view of the off-beat of adult pressure, of contemporary strictures and conformity, of sentiment….

A strict report, worthy of sympathy.

Pub Date: June 15, 1951

ISBN: 0316769177

Page Count: -

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 1951

Did you like this book?