A novel about friendship, betrayal and the Iowa Writers’ Workshop could have been satisfying in any number of ways, but with...
In Evans’ latest (Suicide’s Girlfriend, 2002, etc.), a friendship that has been dead for 20 years is suddenly exhumed.
When Charlotte Price started at the famous Iowa Writers’ Workshop in 1988, she was thrilled to fall easily into a friendship with the gorgeous and vibrant Esmé Cole. “Female friendships always had been so hard for me, fraught with relentless deconstructions of who liked who better, but this person seemed utterly available!” narrates the older Charlotte. The two women became roommates for a semester while Charlotte’s boyfriend, Will, was away in Italy. Yet their relationship didn’t continue. After Esmé became pregnant and left the workshop with her boyfriend and fellow writing student, Jeremy Fletcher, a disagreeable Southerner with a Confederate flag tattoo, Charlotte finished her degree, married Will, moved into a tenure-track job in Tucson and wrote four novels. Although she finds out later that Esmé also moved to Tucson with Jeremy, the two women’s paths do not cross until Esmé unexpectedly drops in on Charlotte one morning 20 years after they last saw each other. The years have not been kind to Esmé: “A stout, red-faced woman stood on our front steps. Boxy, olive pantsuit. Cropped hair the color of Vaseline.” Esmé’s visit causes a crisis for Charlotte as she looks back on the end of their relationship, scarred by a secret betrayal that still haunts her. When Esmé’s intentions turn out to be less than friendly, Charlotte has to reckon with the consequences of her past behavior and hope for forgiveness. What Esmé ultimately wants from Charlotte is intriguing and dangerous, but it comes too late in the story for it to infuse it with much-needed tension, and the most dynamic characters, Esmé and Jeremy, are pushed into the background through Charlotte’s neurotic, self-indulgent narration. Because the stakes are never high enough, there is no sense of mourning for this dead relationship.
A novel about friendship, betrayal and the Iowa Writers’ Workshop could have been satisfying in any number of ways, but with a floundering plot and tiresome narration, there are too many missed opportunities here.Pub Date: March 3, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-62040-298-6
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Bloomsbury
Review Posted Online: Dec. 20, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2015
PROFILES
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
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.
Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958
ISBN: 0385474547
Page Count: 207
Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky
Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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