Next book

SEMAPHORE

The second half of Hawkes’s two-novel debut (following last month’s Surveyor, p. 678) is the haunting tale of a young protagonist’s confused and threatened relationships with his loved ones and his own future. We meet Floridian Joseph Taft as a ten-year-old boy who has been mysteriously mute since birth (“He has the necessary machinery . . . it just isn’t working”) and who is gifted and burdened with the ability not just to see the future but to feel himself experiencing it—for example, his own wedding day and lovemaking with the girl who’ll become his bride. And, most crucially, he “sees— his young sister’s death by drowning in a neighbor’s swimming pool. A panicked effort to thwart her fate (by stealing a dump truck and destroying that pool) is interpreted as an extreme example of Joseph’s adolescent rebelliousness—which, coupled with his refusal to learn “to sign,” widens the distance between him and his compassionate, frustrated parents. Hawkes shifts adroitly among past, present, and future scenes, and he produces several tingling narrative sequences: a home interview with an insensitive “special education” teacher; the comfort offered by a well-meaning minister who tells a wonderfully offbeat story about the power of parental love; a moving “conversation” with Joseph’s younger brother, who begs to be told how his life will turn out; and the novel’s emotional ending, in which kids eager to elude their parents’ sheltering are released for trick-or-treating with Joseph’s (necessarily) unspoken warning and blessing: “Stop, Go, I love you, Come back, Take care, Goodbye. Go on”). This second part of Hawkes’s debut gracefully dramatizes the wary insularity of childhood and youth, the gaps that widen among family members as they age and change, and, even so, their inexplicable and sustaining connectedness. An unusual and imaginative story, one of the year’s most pleasant (together with Surveyor) literary surprises.

Pub Date: Aug. 31, 1998

ISBN: 1-878448-82-X

Page Count: 175

Publisher: N/A

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 1998

Categories:

Awards & Accolades

Likes

  • Readers Vote
  • 68


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
  • 68


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

THINGS FALL APART

This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.

Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.

Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.

This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.

Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958

ISBN: 0385474547

Page Count: 207

Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky

Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958

Categories:
Close Quickview