A centrifugal story told with great sensitivity and empathy, highlighting Statovci’s development as a leading voice in...
Kosovo-born Finnish novelist Statovci (My Cat Yugoslavia, 2017) returns with a beguiling story that proves the old adage about not being able to go home again—if one has a home at all.
“I am a man who cannot be a woman but who can sometimes look like a woman.” So says 22-year-old Bujar, who, it seems, can be anything he wishes to be, of any age and gender, any guise, supported by whatever story he can spin. Even though in his new life in Rome he takes pains to disguise his Albanian origins, he carries stories from his late father about his ancestral nation and the deeds of heroes whose hearts reside “in the breast of the black two-headed eagle on the flag.” Bujar lives as if he is alone, but with him is his childhood friend Agim, “a year older than me but much smaller,” who is smart and soulful and who adds to Bujar’s father’s stock of stories with other tales, such as the curious one about a farm governed by the animals there: “Imagine, Bujar, the animals form a totalitarian society." Bujar and Agim, heroes in their own way, are a shade too young to remember the most terrible excesses of totalitarianism in their homeland, but now, away, they are free to do as they wish—but not really, because sexual violence at the hands of brutish men is always a danger everywhere they travel, and in any event they’re despised for their foreignness, even if, as Bujar says, “Everybody around us wanted to be European, to belong to the European family, to stand on the other side of the invisible but insurmountable fence where people were people, at the forefront of humanity.” Marginalized in several dimensions, Bujar and Agim struggle to find their identities as well as a hint of the happiness that, as events unfold, seems ever more elusive.
A centrifugal story told with great sensitivity and empathy, highlighting Statovci’s development as a leading voice in modern European literature.Pub Date: April 2, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-5247-4749-7
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Pantheon
Review Posted Online: Jan. 20, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
PROFILES
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
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