A novel of the old school: chockfull of know-it-all literary allusions and very hard not to like.
An Alcott-inspired, sweetly smug, old-fashioned third by Weber (Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear, 1995, etc.) about three likable sisters who reject their perfect parents after a moral slipup.
Meg, the competent romantic and junior at Yale; plainspoken Joanna, almost 17; and 15-year-old impetuous Amy are the three Green sisters who have grown up in New York City under the intellectual and morally nourishing guidance of inventor Lou and academic mother Janet. Yet once the girls stumble on an incriminating e-mail from one of Janet’s smitten graduate students—he calls their mother his “little fuckbird”—they righteously decide to leave home and move into Meg’s New Haven apartment for the school year. What ensues is a touching struggle as the girls try to sustain themselves with little money, foil hostility in the inner-city public school, and maintain neutral relations with their nice-guy orphan roommate, Teddy Bell, who deconstructs their intentions and has to negotiate their collective PMS. The premise—that the Green parents would let the daughters desert the household without a battle—would be far-fetched in the hands of a writer less skilled, but Weber fleshes out her lively, spontaneous characters with tremendously affecting detail. She also enlists comments from the so-called real people involved in the making of the book—the sisters, for example (MG, AG), and the supposed writer herself, Joanna Green (JG). Italicized comments by these “observers” appear from time to time (after a long passage about Lou and Janet’s courtship, MG exclaims, “Boring, boring!” and AG angrily refutes her character’s portrayal: “I wasn’t as much of a loser as you want me to be for the purposes of your stupid novel”). These annotations, initially intrusive, gradually assume an amusing and integral part of the narrative. The sisters’ sanctimonious unity is ruptured when Meg becomes enmeshed with an older, married scholar—a letdown, too, for anyone rooting for these smart-alecky, precocious young ladies.
A novel of the old school: chockfull of know-it-all literary allusions and very hard not to like.Pub Date: Sept. 1, 2003
ISBN: 0-374-18959-5
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 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
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.
A lonely postman learns that he’s about to die—and reflects on life as he bargains with a Hawaiian-shirt–wearing devil.
The 30-year-old first-person narrator in filmmaker/novelist Kawamura’s slim novel is, by his own admission, “boring…a monotone guy,” so unimaginative that, when he learns he has a brain tumor, the bucket list he writes down is dull enough that “even the cat looked disgusted with me.” Luckily—or maybe not—a friendly devil, dubbed Aloha, pops onto the scene, and he’s willing to make a deal: an extra day of life in exchange for being allowed to remove something pleasant from the world. The first thing excised is phones, which goes well enough. (The narrator is pleasantly surprised to find that “people seemed to have no problem finding something to fill up their free time.”) But deals with the devil do have a way of getting complicated. This leads to shallow musings (“Sometimes, when you rewatch a film after not having seen it for a long time, it makes a totally different impression on you than it did the first time you saw it. Of course, the movie hasn’t changed; it’s you who’s changed") written in prose so awkward, it’s possibly satire (“Tears dripped down onto the letter like warm, salty drops of rain”). Even the postman’s beloved cat, who gains the power of speech, ends up being prim and annoying. The narrator ponders feelings about a lost love, his late mother, and his estranged father in a way that some readers might find moving at times. But for many, whatever made this book a bestseller in Japan is going to be lost in translation.
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.Pub Date: March 12, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-250-29405-0
Page Count: 176
Publisher: Flatiron Books
Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019
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