Despite her typical wit, intelligence and discernment, Giffin may not be able to win her audience with this problematic...
After the death of a beloved family friend, Shea Rigsby realizes she’s been treading water. Will a spectacular new job and a fairy-tale romance change everything or simply remind her of what she truly loves?
At 33, Shea is in a listless relationship and has a fun but dead-end job at her hometown alma mater, Walker University. Walker is in Texas, where football is right next to God, and its highly successful football program has been under the sage and celebrated guidance of head coach Clive Carr for years. Shea’s practically a member of the Carr family; her mom is best friends with Connie, Coach’s wife, and Shea’s been best friends with their daughter, Lucy, since birth. But after Connie succumbs to cancer, everyone is emotionally unmoored, and they collectively decide to focus their energy on moving Shea forward. Breaking off with her aimless boyfriend opens up space for a thrilling new relationship with a former Walker superstar now playing in the NFL. And with a little help from Coach, she lands her dream job as a Dallas sports reporter. But even as everything seems to be going so well, Shea is a little stunned to find that she isn't really happy and that her job as a reporter may force her to face some unsettling truths about her star-kissed boyfriend, the world of college sports and the man she’s had a lifelong crush on—for the good and the bad. Best-seller Giffin (Where We Belong, 2012, etc.), known for her insightful exploration of women’s deepest desires, has taken on a hard-sell storyline in her newest novel. While her in-depth look at football, family dynamics and unexpected romance is both compelling and perceptive, it also takes some disconcerting turns, and readers may find the story ventures too far outside their comfort zones.
Despite her typical wit, intelligence and discernment, Giffin may not be able to win her audience with this problematic romantic journey.Pub Date: May 20, 2014
ISBN: 978-0-345-54688-3
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Ballantine
Review Posted Online: July 10, 2014
A raw and incandescently written foray into fiction by one of our most gifted poets.
A young man writes a letter to his illiterate mother in an attempt to make sense of his traumatic beginnings.
When Little Dog is a child growing up in Hartford, he is asked to make a family tree. Where other children draw full green branches full of relatives, Little Dog’s branches are bare, with just five names. Born in Vietnam, Little Dog now lives with his abusive—and abused—mother and his schizophrenic grandmother. The Vietnam War casts a long shadow on his life: His mother is the child of an anonymous American soldier—his grandmother survived as a sex worker during the conflict. Without siblings, without a father, Little Dog’s loneliness is exacerbated by his otherness: He is small, poor, Asian, and queer. Much of the novel recounts his first love affair as a teen, with a “redneck” from the white part of town, as he confesses to his mother how this doomed relationship is akin to his violent childhood. In telling the stories of those who exist in the margins, Little Dog says, “I never wanted to build a ‘body of work,’ but to preserve these, our bodies, breathing and unaccounted for, inside the work.” Vuong has written one of the most lauded poetry debuts in recent memory (Night Sky with Exit Wounds, 2016), and his first foray into fiction is poetic in the deepest sense—not merely on the level of language, but in its structure and its intelligence, moving associationally from memory to memory, quoting Barthes, then rapper 50 Cent. The result is an uncategorizable hybrid of what reads like memoir, bildungsroman, and book-length poem. More important than labels, though, is the novel’s earnest and open-hearted belief in the necessity of stories and language for our survival.
A raw and incandescently written foray into fiction by one of our most gifted poets.Pub Date: June 4, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-525-56202-3
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Penguin Press
Review Posted Online: March 17, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
"This soil," concludes the young narrator of this quiet chronicle of garrotted innocence, "is bad for all kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear." And among the exclusions of white rural Ohio, echoed by black respectability, is ugly, black, loveless, twelve-year-old Pecola. But in a world where blue-eyed gifts are clucked over and admired, and the Pecolas are simply not seen, there is always the possibility of the dream and wish—for blue eyes. Born of a mother who adjusted her life to the clarity and serenity of white households and "acquired virtues that were easy to maintain" and a father, Cholly, stunted by early rejections and humiliations, Pecola just might have been loved—for in raping his daughter Cholly did at least touch her. But "Love is never better than the lover," and with the death of her baby, the child herself, accepting absolutely the gift of blue eyes from a faith healer (whose perverse interest in little girls does not preclude understanding), inches over into madness. A skillful understated tribute to the fall of a sparrow for whose small tragedy there was no watching eye.
Pub Date: Oct. 29, 1970
ISBN: 0375411550
Page Count: -
Publisher: Holt Rinehart & Winston
Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1970
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