An underdog tale for readers with steel nerves.
Orvis (The Place, 2015) tells a sprawling tale of a Utah family, set against the upheavals of the mid-20th century.
It’s 1950 in Salt Lake City, Utah. Rusty Van Cott has been mortally injured in a gas tank explosion, and his siblings, including his best friend and brother, Bud; his mother; and assorted in-laws surround his hospital bed. Rusty’s injuries overwhelm Bud, but the sight sends his mind tumbling through memories of riding the rails as a bum in the early 1930s, fighting the Japanese on an island during World War II, and surviving a poor childhood under the abusive rule of their alcoholic father, Kurt. The moment that shaped Bud’s life, however, was the dynamite blast that blew off several fingers. Already dyslexic and a poor speaker, the accident left him with only “buds” on one hand, with which he nevertheless became a military sharpshooter. Through most of their lives, Bud and Rusty were inseparable because they shared an understanding: Rusty was handsome, swaggering, and fearless, while Bud followed in his shadow, enjoying a spiritual awakening that nobody else in their Mormon community approved of. Author Orvis thrives on luring readers into dark corners and offers page after page of gritty Americana. Most of the chapters are from Bud’s perspective—though a few belong to his mother, Opal—and his memories flow smoothly through the eras. Segments focusing on boxcar hobos, Japanese soldiers, and Kurt’s frequently unleashed belt are studies in violence. These are balanced by scenes in Utah’s splendid wilderness; the meditative Bud says, “Nobody knew how I thought or what I felt. Maybe that’s the way I hid my power.” The story is all the more harrowing considering that many of the grisly details of the Van Cotts’ survival—like eating the neighbor’s cats—plausibly happened to some families, somewhere. The thinnest element of the narrative is Kurt, who, as the villain, deserves to be more fleshed out. Otherwise, Orvis cuts deeply indeed.
An underdog tale for readers with steel nerves.Pub Date: July 31, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-5146-0017-7
Page Count: 272
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: Oct. 8, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 1, 2015
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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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