Until the spooky magic begins, too close to the end, the book casts a rather lukewarm spell.
Howe (The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen, 2015, etc.) returns with a creepy, witchy sequel to The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane (2009).
Though her former professor and adviser remains in a mental hospital, Connie Goodwin has turned her continued fascination with witchcraft in early America into a tenure-track professorship. She’s working hard to finish her book, serving as a mentor to graduate students, and living with Sam Hartley, her steeplejack beau. Her mother, Grace, continues to inspire exasperated affection; when Connie goes to visit her, Grace insists on tying an eagle stone around her wrist as a symbol of maternal protection—the first clue that Connie is pregnant. Grace also tells Connie she should break up with Sam, pointing out that generations of women in their family have lost their husbands young, to sudden deaths. As Connie begins to research this phenomena, she discovers a single exception—Temperance Hobbs, an 18th-century ancestor whose portrait sits above Grace’s fireplace and whose husband lived to be over 100. When Connie discovers a hidden box behind the portrait, it’s clear that there might be a way to save Sam—but the consequences to the natural world may be greater than they can afford to pay. The story cuts back and forth between Connie's life in 2000 and the women engaged in “weather work” in the early Colonial period, and it takes a long time to build to a climax. Howe clearly has enjoyed doing her research; Connie’s role as academic allows her to educate us about the history of witchcraft in America without too much lecturing. The characters are likable, but the mood and plot are slow to build.
Until the spooky magic begins, too close to the end, the book casts a rather lukewarm spell.Pub Date: June 25, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-250-30486-5
Page Count: 352
Publisher: Henry Holt
Review Posted Online: March 30, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2019
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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