Beautifully written and powerfully compassionate: more fine work from a modern master.
The anxious aftermath of World War II and the turbulent confusion of the late 1960s provide the dual settings for Lent’s latest exploration of the American psyche (A Slant of Light, 2015, etc.).
Katey Snow is just 17 when she takes off from her home in Vermont, headed for Virginia on an odyssey set in motion by a stunning family revelation. Its precise nature slowly becomes clear as Katey’s journey crosscuts with the history of her parents’ marriage, shadowed by Oliver Snow’s traumatic experiences as a soldier in Germany. Lent, a quietly bold writer who rarely takes the expected path, makes this novel as much about mothers and daughters as about men and war. Jo Hale tries to warn daughter Ruth that dreamy, melancholic Oliver is unlikely to come back whole, and her warnings are borne out by the postwar silences that fester between the couple even though they love each other. And the disclosure that unmoored Katey was the culmination of years of sniping between her and Ruth, for whom her daughter incarnates the forces of unruly change threatening to shatter her world’s precarious equilibrium. Katey, for her part, views Ruth as “a tired bitter woman with a wasted life,” a cruel adolescent observation belied by Lent’s delicate portrait of the complicated realities of Ruth’s and Oliver’s lives, both sustained and constrained by their close-knit families and their small-town society. As usual, Lent brings his fictional world alive in brilliant physical detail: thickly textured descriptions of the fiddle-playing that consoles Oliver, of Ruth’s cooking, and of the varied landscapes through which Katey drives. The Vietnam-era background is slightly more rote than Lent’s perfect rendering of 1940s America (getting over the Good War by not actually talking about it), and Katey is a somewhat less interesting character than her parents. But the interplay between their stories makes for a heartbreaking examination of the fraught bonds of kinship and community.
Beautifully written and powerfully compassionate: more fine work from a modern master.Pub Date: May 2, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-62040-499-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Bloomsbury
Review Posted Online: Feb. 1, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2017
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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