Forget the sex and drugs. Was Shakespeare a closet Catholic? That’s the big issue in this first novel from Winfield, founder of the Reduced Shakespeare Company.
The story alternates between two protagonists in different centuries. In 1582, the 18-year-old Shakespeare is teaching Latin at his old school in Stratford while sowing his wild oats: The sex is lusty but brief and generic. A mysterious horseman asks the young teacher to deliver a box to his former teacher, the Catholic John Cottom, whose brother has been imprisoned. This will be Shakespeare’s mission, and it becomes clear his family is indeed Catholic, keeping a low profile to avoid persecution. Meanwhile in Reagan-era California, at UC-Santa Cruz, 25-year-old Willie Shakespeare Greenberg is “working” on his master’s thesis about Shakespeare and Catholicism. In fact, Willie has done no research; he is a serious hash smoker, living off his dad, a Berkeley professor, and sowing his own wild oats. Willie has a mission too: to deliver a psychedelic mushroom and some baggies to his contacts at a mock-Elizabethan hippie fair. Juxtaposing the salad days of a world-famous playwright with those of a stoned nobody invites bathos, especially when Shakespeare faces far more serious dangers, as a gruesome account of the martyred Edmund Campion reminds us. Caught humping on the estate of a vicious Protestant squire, he gets a taste of the lash and the rack; all Willie gets is a few hours in a campus cell. And so it continues. Shakespeare uses a priest’s hideaway to escape the squire’s vigilantes, while feckless Willie must eat his own mushroom (and lose the sale) to avoid capture by DEA agents. It’s all meant as good rollicking fun, of course, and Shakespeare gets a time-travel broomstick ride to equal Willie’s mushroom trip, but too often the story falls flat.
A mildly entertaining romp that’s thrown out of whack by the religious-persecution theme.Pub Date: July 8, 2008
ISBN: 978-0-446-50885-8
Page Count: 292
Publisher: Twelve
Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2008
Categories: LITERARY FICTION
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Whitehead continues the African-American artists' inquiry into race mythology and history with rousing audacity and...
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What if the metaphorical Underground Railroad had been an actual…underground railroad, complete with steam locomotive pulling a “dilapidated box car” along a subterranean nexus of steel tracks?
For roughly its first 60 pages, this novel behaves like a prelude to a slave narrative which is, at once, more jolting and sepulchral than the classic firsthand accounts of William Wells Brown and Solomon Northup. Its protagonist, Cora, is among several African-American men and women enslaved on a Georgia plantation and facing a spectrum of savage indignities to their bodies and souls. A way out materializes in the form of an educated slave named Caesar, who tells her about an underground railroad that can deliver her and others northward to freedom. So far, so familiar. But Whitehead, whose eclectic body of work encompasses novels (Zone One, 2011, etc.) playing fast and loose with “real life,” both past and present, fires his most daring change-up yet by giving the underground railroad physical form. This train conveys Cora, Caesar, and other escapees first to a South Carolina also historically unrecognizable with its skyscrapers and its seemingly, if microscopically, more liberal attitude toward black people. Compared with Georgia, though, the place seems so much easier that Cora and Caesar are tempted to remain, until more sinister plans for the ex-slaves’ destiny reveal themselves. So it’s back on the train and on to several more stops: in North Carolina, where they’ve not only abolished slavery, but are intent on abolishing black people, too; through a barren, more forbidding Tennessee; on to a (seemingly) more hospitable Indiana, and restlessly onward. With each stop, a slave catcher named Ridgeway, dispensing long-winded rationales for his wicked calling, doggedly pursues Cora and her diminishing company of refugees. And with every change of venue, Cora discovers anew that “freedom was a thing that shifted as you looked at it, the way a forest is dense with trees up close but from outside, the empty meadow, you see its true limits.” Imagine a runaway slave novel written with Joseph Heller’s deadpan voice leasing both Frederick Douglass’ grim realities and H.P. Lovecraft’s rococo fantasies…and that’s when you begin to understand how startlingly original this book is.
Whitehead continues the African-American artists' inquiry into race mythology and history with rousing audacity and razor-sharp ingenuity; he is now assuredly a writer of the first rank.Pub Date: Sept. 13, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-385-53703-2
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: April 13, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2016
Categories: LITERARY FICTION | HISTORICAL FICTION
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Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
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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. 23, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
Categories: LITERARY FICTION | HISTORICAL FICTION
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