Weldon’s not exactly challenging herself here, but she’s still one of the sharpest, most entertaining novelists around.
A characteristic blend of social and sexual satire from Weldon (Rhode Island Blues, 2000, etc.).
Grace Salt, 55, has just served a 15-month jail sentence for trying to run over 32-year-old Doris Dubois, the ultra-polished host of trendy TV show ArtsWorld Extra who has made off with Grace’s husband, real-estate developer Barley. All three are dismayed to find themselves collectively in attendance at a charity event where a portrait of hostess Lady Juliet Random will be auctioned off to benefit her pet cause, Little Children, Everywhere. Doris lusts after Lady Juliet’s $275,000 Bulgari necklace. Barley loves to buy his new wife jewelry but is financially overextended while he waits for government approval of the Opera Noughtie development in Edinburgh. Grace is disconcerted to find herself pursued by the portrait’s painter, 29-year-old Walter Wells, though that doesn’t prevent her from ending up in bed with him after she impulsively makes the winning bid on it. Their affair steadily trims years off Grace and adds them to Walter; by the time her self-absorbed son arrives from Australia, she looks young enough to be his sister. Doris, maddened by Grace’s good luck, pursues Walter to paint her portrait and drugs him into having sex with her. She’s a classic Weldon villain, from her total self-absorption to her viciousness with employees even when it’s manifestly against her self-interest. (She fires the assistant whose research makes her look knowledgeable on the air.) Most of the other characters are quite lightly sketched, though always with Weldon’s customary cogency; similarly, the running jokes about endless house renovations and menacing Russian investors are amusing but hardly new. Nonetheless, when it all comes to a head at the party Doris throws for Barley’s 60th birthday (typically, she doesn’t know he’s actually turning 59), readers can only rejoice at her comeuppance and enjoy the mayhem.
Weldon’s not exactly challenging herself here, but she’s still one of the sharpest, most entertaining novelists around.Pub Date: Nov. 1, 2001
ISBN: 0-87113-796-8
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Atlantic Monthly
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2001
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
PROFILES
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
© Copyright 2026 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
