Elementary prose studded with innumerable clichés. But the convoluted storyline of this, Johansen’s sixtieth novel (Final...
A forensic sculptor still searches for her murdered daughter’s face in every skull she reconstructs.
Like any grieving mother, Eve Duncan hopes for closure—and she’s overcome when it turns out that a child’s skeleton found in the woods wasn’t Bonnie’s after all. Her true love Joe, an Atlanta police detective, meant well when he led her to believe otherwise; and Eve had found solace in tending the little grave and headstone until after its desecration by an unknown vandal—and after a laboratory DNA report, sent anonymously. Eve is compelled to leave Joe and her 12-year-old adopted daughter Jane to mull things over—and take an unusual assignment in Louisiana: Senator Kendal Melton wants some human remains reconstructed. Could they belong to his former rival for the Senate, Harold Bently, long missing and presumed dead? Eve is escorted to an old plantation house and left alone with cook Marie Letaux. Marie seems friendly enough—but could the Cajun food she prepares be . . . poisoned? Eve begins to feel sick as she enters the spooky old church in Baton Rouge where the senator wants her to work. Say, what’s in that huge coffin? Could it be the corpse of Etienne, unwary brother of the villainous Jules Herbert, who’s mixed up in all this somehow? Eve blacks out, and here’s where the plot sickens: various members of a mysterious group known as the Cabal may be planning to blow up a gigantic dam in China, drowning millions of innocents, all because—it seems—a renegade environmentalist may be intent on promoting his own fuel-cell development program. But why such slaughter? And is Harold Bently really dead or just pretending? Fortunately for Eve, her lost child’s ghost perches on the windowsill now and then to help answer these and other burning questions.
Elementary prose studded with innumerable clichés. But the convoluted storyline of this, Johansen’s sixtieth novel (Final Target, 2001, etc.), is sure to please faithful fans.Pub Date: March 26, 2002
ISBN: 0-553-80097-3
Page Count: 340
Publisher: Bantam
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2002
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
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
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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