The result is simply confusion: transitions from scene to scene are missing or clumsy, and a coherent flow of action and...
Unfortunate shenanigans involving monkeys, Saddam Hussein, and secret research labs.
In the future, every book will look like this—or so the publisher assures us, claiming that we’re in for the “futuristic satire” of a Kurt Vonnegut, the “edgy neo-noir” of a Jonathan Lethem, and the “maniacal narrative charge” of a Chuck Palahniuk. All of which is patently untrue. Pryor’s genre-blender debut centers on Doug Flowers, one of the military assassins who’d been assigned to Operation Slay Dracula (“Dracula” being Saddam Hussein) back in the Gulf War, Part One. After laying waste to a multitude of Saddam look-alikes, he failed in his mission, and now all those who worked in “Dracula” have been killed off, one by one, by Saddam’s people back in the US, except for Flowers. While he’s being chased down by his assigned killer (who in this kind of book is, of course, a gorgeous pre-op transsexual named Mr. Wonderful), he’s also working as a pretty lousy private eye and investigating some weird goings-on at a monkey research lab in present-day or near-future Los Angeles. It looks as though one of the monkeys has killed a couple of the other primates, and, for reasons left mostly to the imagination, Flowers is considered the man to get to the bottom of the mystery. Meantime, his wife—who knows neither about his “Dracula” past nor his Mr. Wonderful present—appears to be having an affair, and there’s a comely scientist who seems to have an unhealthy attachment to her research chimp and who also seems to be attracted to Flowers. All of this is related in prose that attempts to destabilize the reader by freely jumping about in time.
The result is simply confusion: transitions from scene to scene are missing or clumsy, and a coherent flow of action and dialogue fails to emerge.Pub Date: April 1, 2003
ISBN: 0-7867-1173-6
Page Count: 304
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2003
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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