BEST BOY

Name: BEST BOY
Author: Eli Gottlieb
ISBN: 978-1-63149-047-7

by Eli Gottlieb ‧ RELEASE DATE: Aug. 24, 2015

Gottlieb merits praise for both the endearing eloquence of Todd’s voice and a deeply sympathetic parable that speaks to a...

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After more than 40 years in an institution, an autistic man acts on his yearning to see his childhood home in this eloquent, sensitive rendering of a marginalized life.

Gottlieb (The Face Thief, 2012, etc.) returns in his fourth novel to the territory of his award-winning first, The Boy Who Went Away (1997), which also concerned a family of four and focused in part on a mother’s efforts to avoid sending her autistic son away. This novel has a very similar family but with the two brothers grown, the parents dead, and the world viewed through the exiled sibling’s eyes. The first-person narrator is autistic Todd Aaron, who sees life as immediate phenomena in a way that produces fresh, even poetic images—like “typewriters that are filled with millipede arms”—though occasionally they feel forced. Todd’s voice also is informed by his reading of the Encyclopedia Britannica and his access to a computer. Mr. B and Mr. C, as they are known, supply a plausible boost in knowledge and some humor to the observations of what is already a high-functioning mind. At the Payton LivingCenter, Todd has his brother’s phone calls and infrequent visits, a kindly staff aide, an obnoxious roommate, a pleasurable interest in a recent female arrival, and an instant fear of a new orderly who reminds him of his abusive father. That fear impels Todd to make escape plans. The novel is so economical with its action—such “homes” rely after all on routine and mood-flattening meds—that revealing the essential few adventures would be spoiling a great deal. Gottlieb wisely doesn’t resolve everything, but he packs years into a tightly composed climactic scene. Less satisfying is the somewhat demonized brother, a bully in his youth, a cheat in maturity, and barely trying, maybe only from guilt, not to bail on his sibling altogether.

Gottlieb merits praise for both the endearing eloquence of Todd’s voice and a deeply sympathetic parable that speaks to a time when rising autism rates and long-lived elders force many to weigh tough options.

Pub Date: Aug. 24, 2015

ISBN: 978-1-63149-047-7

Page Count: 256

Publisher: Liveright/Norton

Review Posted Online: May 5, 2015

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2015

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

- BOOK REVIEW
THE FACE THIEF
by Eli Gottlieb

- BOOK REVIEW
NOW YOU SEE HIM
by Eli Gottlieb

- BOOK REVIEW
THE BOY WHO WENT AWAY
by Eli Gottlieb

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IF CATS DISAPPEARED FROM THE WORLD

by Genki Kawamura ; translated by Eric Selland ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 12, 2019

Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.

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A lonely postman learns that he’s about to die—and reflects on life as he bargains with a Hawaiian-shirt–wearing devil.

The 30-year-old first-person narrator in filmmaker/novelist Kawamura’s slim novel is, by his own admission, “boring…a monotone guy,” so unimaginative that, when he learns he has a brain tumor, the bucket list he writes down is dull enough that “even the cat looked disgusted with me.” Luckily—or maybe not—a friendly devil, dubbed Aloha, pops onto the scene, and he’s willing to make a deal: an extra day of life in exchange for being allowed to remove something pleasant from the world. The first thing excised is phones, which goes well enough. (The narrator is pleasantly surprised to find that “people seemed to have no problem finding something to fill up their free time.”) But deals with the devil do have a way of getting complicated. This leads to shallow musings (“Sometimes, when you rewatch a film after not having seen it for a long time, it makes a totally different impression on you than it did the first time you saw it. Of course, the movie hasn’t changed; it’s you who’s changed") written in prose so awkward, it’s possibly satire (“Tears dripped down onto the letter like warm, salty drops of rain”). Even the postman’s beloved cat, who gains the power of speech, ends up being prim and annoying. The narrator ponders feelings about a lost love, his late mother, and his estranged father in a way that some readers might find moving at times. But for many, whatever made this book a bestseller in Japan is going to be lost in translation.

Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.

Pub Date: March 12, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-250-29405-0

Page Count: 176

Publisher: Flatiron Books

Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

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THE SECRET HISTORY

by Donna Tartt ‧ RELEASE DATE: Sept. 16, 1992

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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.