An exceptional character study that still may test some readers' tolerance for unrelievedly religious matter.
A poet, novelist, and biographer tells the story of a pivotal figure from the early days of Christianity.
He was “a small, stumbling, stooped man with a squint,” a Jew and a Roman citizen whose early life was marked by privilege, with tutors and slaves. After a good education, he entered the family tent-making business, but he also took to “ferreting out Jewish heretics” who followed prophets such as the “rustic Nazarene called Jesus.” Then something happened on the road to Damascus, and Saul of Tarsus became Paul, a leading figure of early Christianity. Parini (The Way of Jesus, 2018, etc.), who has written fictional biographies of Tolstoy and Melville, tells the story in sections narrated by Paul or by Luke, author of a Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles and companion on Paul’s years of travel throughout Asia, Macedonia, and Greece. Luke is a Greek physician and a willing scribe to Paul as he formulates doctrines, sermons, and letters that will become a dominant voice of the New Testament. They complement each other: Where Paul is passionate and visionary, Luke is measured and skeptical. Parini enlivens a narrative familiar to many with fine scenes and writerly touches, such as “houses white as dice tumbling downhill to the pebble-strewn beach.” He captures the larger politico-religious picture, with Paul as the constant stone in the sandal of Jewish, Christian, and Roman leaders alike, with his drive to shape and spread the message of Jesus sparking doctrinal clashes and threatening a fragile coexistence. The evangelist is beaten and whipped and jailed and remains indomitable. Parini also offers a suggestion of Paul’s homosexuality that is plausible but of questionable relevance. The bigger question is whether all this adds up to a novel—perhaps a holy picaresque.
An exceptional character study that still may test some readers' tolerance for unrelievedly religious matter.Pub Date: April 16, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-52278-6
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: Jan. 20, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2019
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
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