A riotous fantasy in which rock-star novelist Farren (The Time of Feasting, 1996) imagines Jim Morrison wandering through the shades of hell looking for a way out. Don Juan had it comparatively easy in hell. To begin with, he knew where he was and why he was there, while poor Jim can—t even remember his name. —Sometime, someplace, someone had royally flamed his memory, though he couldn—t recall where or when . . . All he knew about himself was that he had once been a poet and that, at least for the time being, he would be forced to live absolutely in a highly specialized moment where even the mundane appeared strange and unexplored, and reality checks could only come via the benevolence of the passing crowd.— Talk about a bad trip. The first thing that strikes his consciousness is the rather vivid orgy—replete with golden calf—that’s taking place around him. A spoilsport with a long beard and two stone tablets breaks up the party, but by then Jim has met Doc Holliday, who tells him who he is and what, more or less, is going on around him. The two set off on a leisurely tour of their domain, which includes ghost towns inhabited by alcoholic dogs, nuclear firework displays, a (very) low-rent district called Gehenna, and a poet-guide named Virgil. There’s also the bifurcated ghost of Aimee Semple McPherson, split into the opposing spirits of Aimee (who has grand spiritual ambitions and manages to impeach Jesus on a trumped-up charge) and Semple (who is most at home in her role as a Nazi dominatrix). Semple becomes the object of Jim’s quest, but he has to fight off a host of demons worthy of Hieronymus Bosch before he can reach her. Fortunately, Doc Holliday has the magical Gun That Belonged to Elvis, so everything is bound to turn out right. Right? Hilarious, mad, and fast: Farren is probably one of the first writers since Baudelaire who in fact would be right at home in hell.
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-312-20654-2
Page Count: 452
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1999
An overstuffed tale that can’t decide if it’s a mystery or a romance.
Moriarty’s second novel follows the Doughty clan as they fight to protect family secrets.
The Doughtys became famous more than 70 years ago when Connie and Rose Doughty found a baby on their island home, Scribbly Gum. The baby’s parents, Alice and Jack Munro, vanished, leaving few clues to their whereabouts. The circumstances around the abandonment created a national media sensation. Dubbed “The Baby Munro Mystery,” the case captivated Australians and turned sleepy Scribbly Gum Island into a tourist destination. Connie and Rose jumped at this chance to make money. They offered tours and concessions based on the Munro’s disappearance. Their schemes created a financial windfall for the Doughty family. As the business grew, Connie and Rose managed to keep the younger generations of Doughtys on a tight leash by controlling the purse strings. After setting up this bleak bit of history, Moriarty focuses on the island’s current residents. The Doughty grandchildren and great-grandchildren seem to have prospered in their pristine surroundings, but in reality they are a tortured bunch. The family’s troubles surface when the matriarch, Connie, dies. Infighting breaks out among the relatives, and the careful fabric that bound the family together for years starts to unravel. The comparatively sane and notably saucy Sophie Honeywell is thrown into this den of nutcases—Sophie had only met the dowager a handful of times, when she was dating one of the Scribbly Gum natives, but apparently Sophie made such an impression that Connie bequeathed to her her home. Eager to toss aside Sydney’s stale singles scene for the opportunity to live rent-free on the picturesque island, Sophie joins the fray. Moriarty (Three Wishes, 2004) presents far too many characters (five generations are accounted for), and none of them are likable. The old ladies are cantankerous and the younger folk are addle-brained. Sub-plots involve postpartum depression, gay relationships, mid-life crises and weight-control issues.
An overstuffed tale that can’t decide if it’s a mystery or a romance.Pub Date: June 1, 2006
ISBN: 0-06-089068-1
Page Count: 400
Publisher: HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2006
This vibrant, thoughtful book from Katz (Over the Moon, 1997) continues her tribute to her adopted daughter, Lena, born in Guatemala. Lena is “seven. I am the color of cinnamon. Mom says she could eat me up”; she learns during a painting lesson that to get the color brown, she will have to “mix red, yellow, black, and white paints.” They go for a walk to observe the many shades of brown: they see Sonia, who is the color of creamy peanut butter; Isabella, who is chocolate brown; Lucy, both peachy and tan; Jo-Jin, the color of honey; Kyle, “like leaves in fall”; Mr. Pellegrino, the color of pizza crust, golden brown. Lena realizes that every shade is beautiful, then mixes her paints accordingly for portraits of her friends—“The colors of us!” Bold illustrations celebrate diversity with a child’s open-hearted sensibility and a mother’s love. (Picture book. 6-8)
Pub Date: Sept. 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-8050-5864-8
Page Count: 28
Publisher: Henry Holt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 1999
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