It's steady as she goes in this snappy, sappy novel by Van Wormer (West End, Riverside Drive), who now goes bicoastal and follows a much conflicted New York book editor as she tries to keep her job, untangle her love life, face the recurring nightmare of her mother's suicide, and wring an autobiography out of a difficult Hollywood star. The editor-as-heroine is Kate (``You can take the girl out of Fairfield County but you can't take Fairfield County out of the girl'') Weston, beloved by authors and agents, but barely hanging on to her job at Bennett, Fitzallen & Coe because the house has recently been purchased by a big conglomerate that understands how to market toys but doesn't appreciate good books. When Kate's ordered out to L.A. to get TV queen Lydia Southland to finish her autobiography (a sure-fire bestseller that's intended to save B,F&C), she rises to the occasion, wooing the gorgeous but unforthcoming Lydia; her gay secretary, Noel, a recovering cocaine and alcohol abuser; top writer and former lover Gary; and trusty Mexican housekeeper Gracia. Once Lydia decides she likes Kate, she pitches right in with her personal life, even encouraging Kate's editor friend Mark to wrest Kate away from her-live in beau. But when Lydia's half-sister dies, leaving behind little Alyssa, all bets are off on the autobiography—since little Alyssa is really Lydia's secret daughter by Gary, a fact that the book might bring out. That's bad news for Kate; and, indeed, she gets the hatchet at B,F&C. But so what? She gets Mark and a TV production job in L.A. Lydia gets Gary and Alyssa. And even Noel gets a nice lesbian actress to take home with her at night. A confident commercial endeavor—wise about the TV and book publishing fields, funny and sexy by turns, with an extremely elastic sense of the human heart.
Pub Date: April 1, 1992
ISBN: 0-517-58402-6
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1992
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
© Copyright 2026 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
