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A CLOCK WITHOUT HANDS

Overheated, relentless naval-gazing tragedy of midlife crisis and mispent youth.

Precious, occasionally pretentious tale of childish confidences and innocence lost in a dusty Italian coastal town: the third outing from England’s chronicler of conflicted childhood trauma.

As he did in the creepy Sophie (2003), Burt has an accomplished and somewhat enviably established adult, Alex Carlisle, gripped by a peculiar compulsion that unslips his mind, sending him into a Faulknerian storm of murky memories and flashbacks that culminate in a tortured revelation of guilt. Alex is a successful, self-absorbed artist with an important retrospective about to open at a London gallery. He returns to his childhood home in Altesa after the death of Lena, the kindly cook who looked after him, and shielded him from the wrath of his English parents, who thought the young Alex was lazy, or somehow mentally deficient. The house is a mess and, while repairing it, Alex is overwhelmed by a midlife crisis that begins with memories of the idyllic summer he met Jamie, the son of an English father and Italian mother who was two years older, and Jamie’s bold, precocious cousin Anna. The trio’s bonds are cemented when they discover a wounded man in ruined church. Believing him to be a legendary “hermit,” they discover a bullet hole in his leg and try to nurse the man back to health. Anna finds the man's rifle in a wrecked car and, though the three have every reason to expect he’s a dangerous political terrorist, they swear to keep secret the man’s presence, and their role in his recovery. The burden of this secret grows heavier when Alex’s art talent is awakened at an English boarding school that Jamie is also attending. Only Jamie sees the terrorist, and obsessive, latently sexual images of himself and Anna, in Alex’s art. The secret also inspires Anna to choose a career of violent political activism in which Alex is a less-than-reliable recruit. Burt’s dense, dizzy layers of flashbacks will congeal around two climaxes.

Overheated, relentless naval-gazing tragedy of midlife crisis and mispent youth.

Pub Date: Oct. 26, 2004

ISBN: 0-345-44656-9

Page Count: 448

Publisher: Ballantine

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2004

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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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THE HANDMAID'S TALE

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

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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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