A frequently strong and varied collection, though its excess of variation proves a liability.
At their best, the poems in Donovan’s third collection suggest a kinship with Mark Strand’s earlier work—spare, haunted, melancholic—most evident in several short nocturnes in the first two sections. “Lie on me, lover. I turn no blankets on the bed. / I make no fire,” he implores in “What of the Night”; “The Body Lights” and “Child” are equally moving and mysterious. Yes, poems about lighthouses abound, and they are distributed “coastally”—at the beginning and end. In “Like Dervishes,” he notes that one resembles “a needle left standing after some ancient race / had threaded sea and land into one garment / but then retreated inland, leaving the final stitch unfinished.” Donovan is a poet of two lands, Ireland and America, and he writes evocatively about having lived in both countries. And, again like Strand, he is capable of considerable humor. He effectively lampoons suburbia in “I Am Going,” “Long Island Rush Hour Report,” and “Weekend”—an easy target, perhaps, but when he hits it, his jaded wit shines: “Arses shift on stools, nodding faces suck coffee, / minds jammed in Sunday neutral and in my ears: / Be one of us and hear no noise.” Appealing as the poems often are, it feels as though Donovan has tried to cram too many of them into this collection. The result is an unfortunate amount of dead weight. He flits from subject to subject over the course of seven sections, one of which (“The Conquerors”), with the exception of a single poem (“You Say”), should have been excised altogether; a section entitled “Ghosts” also impedes the flow.
A frequently strong and varied collection, though its excess of variation proves a liability.Pub Date: Nov. 1, 2000
ISBN: 1-903392-03-9
Page Count: 90
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2000
The phrase “tour de force” could have been invented for this audacious novel.
Four men who meet as college roommates move to New York and spend the next three decades gaining renown in their professions—as an architect, painter, actor and lawyer—and struggling with demons in their intertwined personal lives.
Yanagihara (The People in the Trees, 2013) takes the still-bold leap of writing about characters who don’t share her background; in addition to being male, JB is African-American, Malcolm has a black father and white mother, Willem is white, and “Jude’s race was undetermined”—deserted at birth, he was raised in a monastery and had an unspeakably traumatic childhood that’s revealed slowly over the course of the book. Two of them are gay, one straight and one bisexual. There isn’t a single significant female character, and for a long novel, there isn’t much plot. There aren’t even many markers of what’s happening in the outside world; Jude moves to a loft in SoHo as a young man, but we don’t see the neighborhood change from gritty artists’ enclave to glitzy tourist destination. What we get instead is an intensely interior look at the friends’ psyches and relationships, and it’s utterly enthralling. The four men think about work and creativity and success and failure; they cook for each other, compete with each other and jostle for each other’s affection. JB bases his entire artistic career on painting portraits of his friends, while Malcolm takes care of them by designing their apartments and houses. When Jude, as an adult, is adopted by his favorite Harvard law professor, his friends join him for Thanksgiving in Cambridge every year. And when Willem becomes a movie star, they all bask in his glow. Eventually, the tone darkens and the story narrows to focus on Jude as the pain of his past cuts deep into his carefully constructed life.
The phrase “tour de force” could have been invented for this audacious novel.Pub Date: March 10, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-385-53925-8
Page Count: 720
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: Dec. 21, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2015
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
PROFILES
PERSPECTIVES
A strict report, worthy of sympathy.
A violent surfacing of adolescence (which has little in common with Tarkington's earlier, broadly comic, Seventeen) has a compulsive impact.
"Nobody big except me" is the dream world of Holden Caulfield and his first person story is down to the basic, drab English of the pre-collegiate. For Holden is now being bounced from fancy prep, and, after a vicious evening with hall- and roommates, heads for New York to try to keep his latest failure from his parents. He tries to have a wild evening (all he does is pay the check), is terrorized by the hotel elevator man and his on-call whore, has a date with a girl he likes—and hates, sees his 10 year old sister, Phoebe. He also visits a sympathetic English teacher after trying on a drunken session, and when he keeps his date with Phoebe, who turns up with her suitcase to join him on his flight, he heads home to a hospital siege. This is tender and true, and impossible, in its picture of the old hells of young boys, the lonesomeness and tentative attempts to be mature and secure, the awful block between youth and being grown-up, the fright and sickness that humans and their behavior cause the challenging, the dramatization of the big bang. It is a sorry little worm's view of the off-beat of adult pressure, of contemporary strictures and conformity, of sentiment….
A strict report, worthy of sympathy.Pub Date: June 15, 1951
ISBN: 0316769177
Page Count: -
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 1951
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
APPRECIATIONS
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