Lethem in a minor key. Not without its ridiculous charms, but nothing to sing about either.
A Jonathan Lethem novel about the rock scene is rather like a Norman Mailer novel about Jesus Christ. We kind of knew it would happen eventually.
In this one, set in contemporary L.A., Lucinda Hoekke, nearing 30, still drifting lazily through life, summons her boyfriend, zoo employee and sex magnet Matthew Plangent, to a break-up meeting at a museum where the non-art (a large white enclosure) of Lucinda’s former lover Falmouth Strand is displayed. Working as a “complaint receptionist” for Falmouth (a New Age control freak entrepreneur who offers such service, seemingly just for the hell of it), Lucinda finds herself attracted to the “brilliant complainer” who arouses her recently diminished sex drive, and seeks him out—when not rehearsing with the (unnamed) band that features Matthew as vocalist, Lucinda on bass, confrontational Denise Urban (who sells sex toys at a “Masturbation Boutique”) on drums and gentle Jesus-like eccentric Bedwin Greenish, who plays lead guitar and writes the songs. There’s a minimal plot, in which Lucinda and the complainer (burly, aging Carl Vogelsong) get it on exhaustively, and the band—when not considering and discarding monikers like “Famous Vomit Ferry or Long-Term Pity Houseguest”—catches a break when invited to perform on midnight deejay Fancher Autumnbreast’s radio show “The Dreaming Jaw,” only to be sabotaged by the complainer, whose random musings have been appropriated by Lucinda and turned into song. After much air-headed conversation about “universal principles and…rock trivia,” and the return to the zoo of the morose kangaroo Matthew has held “hostage,” it all spins to a very downbeat (and not very good) bittersweet ending. Lucinda finds herself approximately where she started, and realizes she’s okay with it.
Lethem in a minor key. Not without its ridiculous charms, but nothing to sing about either.Pub Date: March 13, 2007
ISBN: 0-385-51218-X
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2006
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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
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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