Next book

MYSTERY AND MANNERS

OCCASIONAL PROSE

Flannery O'Connor's "Occasional Prose," here selected and edited by Sally and Robert Fitzgerald, includes a number of essays and lectures which are not only crucial in understanding her particular creative venue and vision but obligatory in understanding the the quintessential aspects of the novel or the short story. Of these, "The Nature and Aim of Fiction" and "Writing Short Stories" expand on the meaning of the book's title: Flannery O'Connor felt that the "mystery of our position on earth" is the heart of any fictional experience and that manners, or what she called the texture of existence, should reveal it. Other pieces deal with more specific aspects of writing or of being a Southern writer (Miss O'Connor maintained a definite literary Mason-Dixon line, opposing the Southern grotesques with their Northern equivalents—the man in the grey flannel suit) or of being a Catholic writer, and certainly all of her work attested to the artistic seriousness of purpose and spiritual convictions which are articulated here. With occasional lighter moments—the charming introductory piece on her peafowl, and even more occasional humor (". . . a Georgia author is a rather specious dignity, on the same order, as, for the pig, being a Talmadge ham"). This posthumous collection should not be confined to the author's enduring admirers—these are affirmations and illuminations of the innate creative experience—a special state of grace which a few writers, like Miss O'Connor, achieved.

Pub Date: May 12, 1969

ISBN: 0374508046

Page Count: 254

Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Review Posted Online: Oct. 2, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 1969

Categories:

Awards & Accolades

Likes

  • Readers Vote
  • 66


Our Verdict

  • Our Verdict
  • GET IT


  • New York Times Bestseller


  • Booker Prize Winner

Next book

THE TESTAMENTS

Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.

Awards & Accolades

Likes

  • Readers Vote
  • 66


Our Verdict

  • Our Verdict
  • GET IT


  • New York Times Bestseller


  • Booker Prize Winner

Atwood goes back to Gilead.

The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.

Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.

Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019

ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1

Page Count: 432

Publisher: Nan A. Talese

Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019

Next book

THE SECRET HISTORY

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.

Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992

ISBN: 1400031702

Page Count: 592

Publisher: Knopf

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992

Categories:
Close Quickview