Subversive stories in which the simplest interactions have dark preoccupations roiling underneath.
An assured collection of stories about men trying to connect with the world through convoluted, excessive means.
Their settings might be firmly rooted in the domestic, but the nine stories in Catalan writer Puntí's (Lost Luggage, 2013) collection read as though they are arriving from another world or being broadcast from a chillier, dystopian future. In "Kidney," a man named Gori gets letters reading "I'll be needing a kidney" along with checks for increasingly large amounts of money in the mail from his long-estranged brother, who perhaps feels he can buy Gori's altruism—or forgiveness. When Gori's niece shows up on his doorstep to make the request for her father in person, Gori "finally gave her the answer he's been savoring all along." Other than its preoccupation with familial dynamics, what the story has in common with those surrounding it is its use of an off-kilter premise to magnify its characters' sense of aggrievement and longing. "Blinker" chronicles a hitchhiker who refuses to make himself vulnerable to his drivers (or his readers) by revealing the contents of his black briefcase, while "Vertical" applies a Peter Pan–like sense of arrested development to a relapsed alcoholic writing his dead lover's name with his footsteps as he walks through the streets of Spain. Other stories parse obsessions borne out to their logical conclusions as characters deceive people they claim to care about for the sake of fulfilling their own desires. "Consolation Prize" focuses on a man's unhealthy fixation on the ex-girlfriend a fellow dog owner casually mentions while they're chatting at the park; he tracks her down and constructs an elaborate scenario to ask her out. "My Best Friend's Mother" places a teenager's lust in amber only to have it break out in a moment of selfishness when, as an adult, he randomly encounters the title character in a bar. Although the stories are well written and studded with wry observations, for the most part Puntí's language clears out of the way to make space for his great gifts of imagination and plot.
Subversive stories in which the simplest interactions have dark preoccupations roiling underneath.Pub Date: Aug. 20, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-9821-0471-9
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Atria
Review Posted Online: May 26, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
The story's very ambiguity steadily feeds its mysteriousness and power, and Danielewski's mastery of postmodernist and...
An amazingly intricate and ambitious first novel - ten years in the making - that puts an engrossing new spin on the traditional haunted-house tale.
Texts within texts, preceded by intriguing introductory material and followed by 150 pages of appendices and related "documents" and photographs, tell the story of a mysterious old house in a Virginia suburb inhabited by esteemed photographer-filmmaker Will Navidson, his companion Karen Green (an ex-fashion model), and their young children Daisy and Chad. The record of their experiences therein is preserved in Will's film The Davidson Record - which is the subject of an unpublished manuscript left behind by a (possibly insane) old man, Frank Zampano - which falls into the possession of Johnny Truant, a drifter who has survived an abusive childhood and the perverse possessiveness of his mad mother (who is institutionalized). As Johnny reads Zampano's manuscript, he adds his own (autobiographical) annotations to the scholarly ones that already adorn and clutter the text (a trick perhaps influenced by David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest) - and begins experiencing panic attacks and episodes of disorientation that echo with ominous precision the content of Davidson's film (their house's interior proves, "impossibly," to be larger than its exterior; previously unnoticed doors and corridors extend inward inexplicably, and swallow up or traumatize all who dare to "explore" their recesses). Danielewski skillfully manipulates the reader's expectations and fears, employing ingeniously skewed typography, and throwing out hints that the house's apparent malevolence may be related to the history of the Jamestown colony, or to Davidson's Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph of a dying Vietnamese child stalked by a waiting vulture. Or, as "some critics [have suggested,] the house's mutations reflect the psychology of anyone who enters it."
The story's very ambiguity steadily feeds its mysteriousness and power, and Danielewski's mastery of postmodernist and cinema-derived rhetoric up the ante continuously, and stunningly. One of the most impressive excursions into the supernatural in many a year.Pub Date: March 6, 2000
ISBN: 0-375-70376-4
Page Count: 704
Publisher: Pantheon
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2000
The Brat Pack meets The Bacchae in this precious, way-too-long, and utterly unsuspenseful town-and-gown murder tale. A bunch of ever-so-mandarin college kids in a small Vermont school are the eager epigones of an aloof classics professor, and in their exclusivity and snobbishness and eagerness to please their teacher, they are moved to try to enact Dionysian frenzies in the woods. During the only one that actually comes off, a local farmer happens upon them—and they kill him. But the death isn't ruled a murder—and might never have been if one of the gang—a cadging sybarite named Bunny Corcoran—hadn't shown signs of cracking under the secret's weight. And so he too is dispatched. The narrator, a blank-slate Californian named Richard Pepen chronicles the coverup. But if you're thinking remorse-drama, conscience masque, or even semi-trashy who'll-break-first? page-turner, forget it: This is a straight gee-whiz, first-to-have-ever-noticed college novel—"Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally thought to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion." First-novelist Tartt goes muzzy when she has to describe human confrontations (the murder, or sex, or even the ping-ponging of fear), and is much more comfortable in transcribing aimless dorm-room paranoia or the TV shows that the malefactors anesthetize themselves with as fate ticks down. By telegraphing the murders, Tartt wants us to be continually horrified at these kids—while inviting us to semi-enjoy their manneristic fetishes and refined tastes. This ersatz-Fitzgerald mix of moralizing and mirror-looking (Jay McInerney shook and poured the shaker first) is very 80's—and in Tartt's strenuous version already seems dated, formulaic. Les Nerds du Mal—and about as deep (if not nearly as involving) as a TV movie.
Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992
ISBN: 1400031702
Page Count: 592
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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