Elegantly written and sharply observed, but sensitive to a fault: a well-crafted debut that suffers from a bit too much...
A troubled midwestern family tries to overcome the ravages of a violently abusive father and husband.
In spite of its Swedish name, Olina, Wisconsin is one of the least exotic places in the Upper Midwest—a flat, windswept, almost barren landscape of subsistence farms carved out of stubborn, rocky soil. John and Claire Lucas left Milwaukee to live on a farm in Olina, lured by cheap prices and the prospect of independence. John was a WWII vet with a taste for booze and a nasty temper; Claire was a young schoolteacher who gave up her career for marriage. But John was a poor farmer who gave himself more and more deeply over to drink, whereas Claire found the solitude of Olina (and life with John) oppressive. Claire took solace in her two sons, James and Bill, who protected her (physically as well as emotionally) from her husband’s violent rages, but the boys themselves had to look beyond home for their own peace. James, tragically, enlisted in the Marines in 1967, partly to escape from his troubled family and partly to show up his father (who had lied about his WWII combat record), while Bill spent more and more with Ernie and Rosemary Morriseau, a childless couple who lived on a neighboring farm. After James is killed in Vietnam, Bill tries to protect Claire from John—and suffers terrible abuse at his hands. In spite of this, Bill manages to grow up relatively happy and well-adjusted, and eventually marries his college sweetheart and finds work as a biologist, but he is unable to have children because of the injuries his father inflicted on him. His wife wants to adopt, but Bill fears the consequences of family life. Can Bill understand he is not his father? Can he forgive the man who nearly ruined his life?
Elegantly written and sharply observed, but sensitive to a fault: a well-crafted debut that suffers from a bit too much feeling.Pub Date: Jan. 5, 2004
ISBN: 0-670-03265-4
Page Count: 374
Publisher: Viking
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 1, 2003
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.
Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958
ISBN: 0385474547
Page Count: 207
Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky
Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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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