A transfixing confessional about the secret lives of dangerous girls.
Unsavory deeds at a girl’s preparatory academy shatter a rare friendship between two students.
Debut novelist de Gramont (stories: Of Cats and Men, 2001) employs an elegiac voice in this memorable if uneven novel based on the plethora of prep school scandals. After she’s caught in bed with her impossibly decent boyfriend John Paul, teenaged Catherine Morrow is forcibly enrolled at the Esther Percy School for Girls, an austere New England institution whose effect is akin to putting all the rotten eggs in one basket. There she develops a life-altering bond with fiery redhead Skye Butterfield, the spoiled but defiant daughter of the region’s Kennedy-esque senator, Douglas. “Some people can’t help but pull you into their messes,” warns Catherine’s former best friend Susannah, and Skye quickly proves it with increasingly erratic behavior. Fueled by a voracious appetite for drugs and attention, Skye joins an environmental protest to purposefully derail her father’s burgeoning political power; is nearly attacked while hitchhiking with an innocent roommate; and viciously tempts Mr. November, an unbalanced male teacher whose wife left because of Skye’s machinations. Any story that begins with its heroines cutting lines of cocaine on a toaster oven can’t end well. But the author inhabits her placid protagonist Catherine and her ill-fated counterpart to dramatic effect. It’s difficult not to like the well-meaning Catherine despite her unwise choices (the urge to wave her away from self-destructive Skye arises frequently). This is especially true during the novel’s denouement, as Skye betrays her one true friend and then pulls her final disappearing act. A subplot involving Catherine’s halfhearted pursuit of an equestrian championship is distracting, as is Susannah’s wildly improbable scheme to smuggle drugs from Venezuela to New England with the help of a dim-witted boyfriend. But when de Gramont focuses her gaze on her naïve, doomed muses, the book soars.
A transfixing confessional about the secret lives of dangerous girls.Pub Date: June 10, 2008
ISBN: 978-1-56512-565-0
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Algonquin
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2008
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
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
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