A clever, affectionate poke in the ribs: just sentimental enough to be nostalgic, just sharp enough to avoid sentimentality.
Critic and first-novelist Sansom (The Truth About Babies, not reviewed) takes a wry look at an Irish village and discovers an exceptionally lively world.
Despite all the articles about the hip new Dublin scene, the Irish are still a fundamentally rustic people, more at home in the villages and crossroads they’ve come from for centuries than in the cities and suburbs that they’ve gravitated toward of late. Ask Davey Quinn. After years of making it big and living the high life in London, Davey has come home to the little Irish town in the middle of nowhere where he grew up. There have been some changes—the big old hotel in the center of town is now an abandoned ruin, and the American-style shopping mall has drained much of the business from the High Street stores—but Davey can still recognize most of the people. There’s the upstart millionaire Bob Savory, whose chain of sandwich shops (“Quality Food for the Discerning Palate”) have pushed him into the upper reaches of local society (alongside the likes of aristocratic Sir George Sanderson, publisher of the local paper, or realtor Frank Gilbey, who developed the mall). Billy Nibbs is a self-published poet who works as an investigative reporter at Sir George’s paper (The Impartial Recorder), under the serotonin-deprived guidance of editor Colin Rimmer. And Francie McGinn is the strangely charismatic pastor of the People’s Fellowship church, famous throughout this Catholic region for his quasi-pornographic wedding sermons and his Good Friday barbecues. It’s all very cozy and familiar, but the question still arises: Why did Davey turn his back on success in the big city and come home to this small pond? Maybe he wasn’t as successful as he lets on—or maybe he’s about to find something here that he overlooked the first time around.
A clever, affectionate poke in the ribs: just sentimental enough to be nostalgic, just sharp enough to avoid sentimentality.Pub Date: July 1, 2004
ISBN: 0-00-715739-8
Page Count: 368
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2004
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
PROFILES
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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