An absorbing, engaging, and finely crafted novel about the abortion debate.
Orbach (Transgressions and Other Stories, 2013) weaves a story focused on a young doctor, two women in his life, and an abortion clinic in this socially minded volume.
“It was still only the beginning of our lives,” observes Jenna early in the novel as she and her fellow residents at a Boston hospital gather to celebrate one of their birthdays. This is before Jenna’s teenage sister gets pregnant; before her friend Phil—whose commitment to helping women is described as “almost pathological”—opens a women’s health clinic in upstate New York. One of the women he helps is Adele, who comes to rely on Phil following the deaths of her parents in an accident. She tries to be supportive of Phil’s career choices, though she worries about their ramifications. Jenna, who has long harbored unrequited feelings for Phil, returns from a year in Africa to assist at the clinic, but her emotional baggage —both familial and romantic—colors her ability to function dispassionately. Set against the culture wars of the early 1990s, when anti-abortion activism often turned violent, the stories of Jenna, Phil, and Adele intersect to illustrate the difficulty of holding on to ideals in a clinical environment and a cynical world. (At one point, Phil recalls: “People ask me sometimes why I made such a point of wanting to do abortions and maybe start a clinic—and then, later, why any of us kept on, even though it meant living in a combat zone.”) Orbach is a tremendous writer, her voice effortless and her sentences as smooth as a morphine drip. She is always attuned to her characters’ feelings, even as they try to hide their emotions. Here Jenna hears from Phil that he and Adele are having a baby: “The room seemed to tilt, as if I might be spilled back into the snowy street. ‘God bless,’ I said after a moment. It would never change, then.” The issues surrounding the abortion debate are ever present, yet the book’s tone is never preachy: histrionics are for activists, while Orbach’s doctors are (almost) always focused on the task at hand. It is this dichotomy between passion and calm—between saying something and talking yourself out of it—that frames the story’s central conflict, challenging readers to feel more than they’re normally comfortable doing.
An absorbing, engaging, and finely crafted novel about the abortion debate.Pub Date: May 18, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-4917-5889-2
Page Count: 322
Publisher: iUniverse
Review Posted Online: Dec. 8, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2016
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
BOOK REVIEW
Characters flip between bottomless self-regard and pitiless self-loathing while, as late as the second-to-last chapter, yet...
Four Chicago sisters anchor a sharp, sly family story of feminine guile and guilt.
Newcomer Lombardo brews all seven deadly sins into a fun and brimming tale of an unapologetically bougie couple and their unruly daughters. In the opening scene, Liza Sorenson, daughter No. 3, flirts with a groomsman at her sister’s wedding. “There’s four of you?” he asked. “What’s that like?” Her retort: “It’s a vast hormonal hellscape. A marathon of instability and hair products.” Thus begins a story bristling with a particular kind of female intel. When Wendy, the oldest, sets her sights on a mate, she “made sure she left her mark throughout his house—soy milk in the fridge, box of tampons under the sink, surreptitious spritzes of her Bulgari musk on the sheets.” Turbulent Wendy is the novel’s best character, exuding a delectable bratty-ness. The parents—Marilyn, all pluck and busy optimism, and David, a genial family doctor—strike their offspring as impossibly happy. Lombardo levels this vision by interspersing chapters of the Sorenson parents’ early lean times with chapters about their daughters’ wobbly forays into adulthood. The central story unfurls over a single event-choked year, begun by Wendy, who unlatches a closed adoption and springs on her family the boy her stuffy married sister, Violet, gave away 15 years earlier. (The sisters improbably kept David and Marilyn clueless with a phony study-abroad scheme.) Into this churn, Lombardo adds cancer, infidelity, a heart attack, another unplanned pregnancy, a stillbirth, and an office crush for David. Meanwhile, youngest daughter Grace perpetrates a whopper, and “every day the lie was growing like mold, furring her judgment.” The writing here is silky, if occasionally overwrought. Still, the deft touches—a neighborhood fundraiser for a Little Free Library, a Twilight character as erotic touchstone—delight. The class calibrations are divine even as the utter apolitical whiteness of the Sorenson world becomes hard to fathom.
Characters flip between bottomless self-regard and pitiless self-loathing while, as late as the second-to-last chapter, yet another pleasurable tendril of sisterly malice uncurls.Pub Date: June 25, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54425-2
Page Count: 544
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: March 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
Absolutely enthralling. Read it.
A young Irish couple gets together, splits up, gets together, splits up—sorry, can't tell you how it ends!
Irish writer Rooney has made a trans-Atlantic splash since publishing her first novel, Conversations With Friends, in 2017. Her second has already won the Costa Novel Award, among other honors, since it was published in Ireland and Britain last year. In outline it's a simple story, but Rooney tells it with bravura intelligence, wit, and delicacy. Connell Waldron and Marianne Sheridan are classmates in the small Irish town of Carricklea, where his mother works for her family as a cleaner. It's 2011, after the financial crisis, which hovers around the edges of the book like a ghost. Connell is popular in school, good at soccer, and nice; Marianne is strange and friendless. They're the smartest kids in their class, and they forge an intimacy when Connell picks his mother up from Marianne's house. Soon they're having sex, but Connell doesn't want anyone to know and Marianne doesn't mind; either she really doesn't care, or it's all she thinks she deserves. Or both. Though one time when she's forced into a social situation with some of their classmates, she briefly fantasizes about what would happen if she revealed their connection: "How much terrifying and bewildering status would accrue to her in this one moment, how destabilising it would be, how destructive." When they both move to Dublin for Trinity College, their positions are swapped: Marianne now seems electric and in-demand while Connell feels adrift in this unfamiliar environment. Rooney's genius lies in her ability to track her characters' subtle shifts in power, both within themselves and in relation to each other, and the ways they do and don't know each other; they both feel most like themselves when they're together, but they still have disastrous failures of communication. "Sorry about last night," Marianne says to Connell in February 2012. Then Rooney elaborates: "She tries to pronounce this in a way that communicates several things: apology, painful embarrassment, some additional pained embarrassment that serves to ironise and dilute the painful kind, a sense that she knows she will be forgiven or is already, a desire not to 'make a big deal.' " Then: "Forget about it, he says." Rooney precisely articulates everything that's going on below the surface; there's humor and insight here as well as the pleasure of getting to know two prickly, complicated people as they try to figure out who they are and who they want to become.
Absolutely enthralling. Read it.Pub Date: April 16, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-984-82217-8
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Hogarth
Review Posted Online: Feb. 17, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019
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