The novel is by no means uninteresting, but it’s pretty much Kureishi as we already know him—again.
A middle-aged psychoanalyst takes stock of his overcrowded past and reluctantly confronts his many demons, in the latest from Kureishi.
Jamal Khan, whose fondest memories hearken back to swinging, newly multicultural London in the 1980s (the period observed in Kureishi’s first novel, The Buddha of Suburbia, 1990), when he partied incessantly and knew everybody, is now reaping the bitter harvest of his excesses. Estranged from his wife Josephine, despised by his curmudgeonly 12-year-old son, depressed by guilty memories of the former love of his life Ajita (and by a guilty secret involving her late father), Jamal weighs the problems and sorrows of his importunate patients against the unraveling of his own exhausted psyche—meanwhile plunging into further miscalculations and twisted relationships. The most challenging of the latter involve women: notably, his perpetually deranged sister Miriam, hell-bent on a relationship with their father’s friend Henry, a formerly eminent theater director; and Henry’s daughter Lisa, a strident social worker whose icy righteousness does not deter her from a damaging intimacy with the ever-vigilant Jamal. (These entanglements aren’t particularly interesting, except for the brilliant portrayal of Miriam, an unstable culture vulture whose appetitive energies put even Jamal’s to shame.) Though it doesn’t actually go anywhere, the novel is filled with vivid particulars, mordant wit and odd little surprises—ranging from Jamal’s serendipitous arrival at an informal meeting with Mick Jagger following a Rolling Stones concert, to a brief allusion to prosperous gay London careerist Omar Ali (the protagonist, some of us will remember, of the brilliant film My Beautiful Laundrette, developed from Kureishi’s splendid original script). Things just seem to whirl around Jamal, a stubborn survivor who is perhaps foredoomed to sleepwalk through his days and waste his nights perpetually seeking a profession, family and culture to which he can belong.
The novel is by no means uninteresting, but it’s pretty much Kureishi as we already know him—again.Pub Date: Aug. 1, 2008
ISBN: 978-1-4165-7210-7
Page Count: 352
Publisher: Scribner
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2008
SEEN & HEARD
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
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
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.
A lonely postman learns that he’s about to die—and reflects on life as he bargains with a Hawaiian-shirt–wearing devil.
The 30-year-old first-person narrator in filmmaker/novelist Kawamura’s slim novel is, by his own admission, “boring…a monotone guy,” so unimaginative that, when he learns he has a brain tumor, the bucket list he writes down is dull enough that “even the cat looked disgusted with me.” Luckily—or maybe not—a friendly devil, dubbed Aloha, pops onto the scene, and he’s willing to make a deal: an extra day of life in exchange for being allowed to remove something pleasant from the world. The first thing excised is phones, which goes well enough. (The narrator is pleasantly surprised to find that “people seemed to have no problem finding something to fill up their free time.”) But deals with the devil do have a way of getting complicated. This leads to shallow musings (“Sometimes, when you rewatch a film after not having seen it for a long time, it makes a totally different impression on you than it did the first time you saw it. Of course, the movie hasn’t changed; it’s you who’s changed") written in prose so awkward, it’s possibly satire (“Tears dripped down onto the letter like warm, salty drops of rain”). Even the postman’s beloved cat, who gains the power of speech, ends up being prim and annoying. The narrator ponders feelings about a lost love, his late mother, and his estranged father in a way that some readers might find moving at times. But for many, whatever made this book a bestseller in Japan is going to be lost in translation.
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.Pub Date: March 12, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-250-29405-0
Page Count: 176
Publisher: Flatiron Books
Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019
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