CENTRAL SQUARE

Evocative rendering of life in a Boston community, although contemporary themes—race, poverty, class—become the tail of —issues— wagging the dog of character and plot. Paula is a therapist in a community counseling center; Joe, who has just fled Africa following an indistinctly described slaughter in a village, is in Boston now for a fresh beginning and all too willing to play along with those who see in him African magic and other spiritual powers; and Eric, an insecure writer and his pregnant wife Jane, are about to have their house remodeled. At the counseling center, Paula struggles to renew her loveless life by dedicating herself to low-income clients, while Joe continues to become exactly what everyone wants him to be. Eric, meantime, whose underselling fiction has failed to satisfy his corporate publisher, finds his inspiration for a long-incubating third novel fading. Packer (Half Man, 1991) brings these parties together in believable and entertaining ways—an adulterous affair, a fabricated identity, a chance meeting in a Harvard library—and his heavy-handedness arises only afterward. A neighborhood semi-political organization named The Community is intent on reclaiming a building on the local Square for its own uses, and, all going well enough so far, Packer allows the ensuing crisis to reveal his characters— unstable relations with one another. The deadener comes, though, when he also allows himself free license to ruminate on such matters as neighborhood politics, community disintegration, and gender issues—while his people disappear in the smog of speechifying. Packer’s genuine artistry is most evident in his bringing characters to life; his ability to animate political issues, though, is less compelling.

Pub Date: Oct. 1, 1998

ISBN: 1-55597-277-2

Page Count: 356

Publisher: Graywolf

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1998

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Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

THE HANDMAID'S TALE

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

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ANIMAL FARM

A FAIRY STORY

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

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