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BINDI

Well-intentioned but imperfectly executed.

In this debut novel, a wealthy American woman adopts an orphaned Indian boy to alleviate her sorrows.

In Varkala, a coastal village in southern India, 8-year-old Birendra’s beloved mother and only living parent suddenly dies. At the urging of the Nairs, his elderly neighbors, Birendra drafts a letter to his aunt and uncle in West London, with the hope they’ll come for him. When 15 days of mourning pass with no return letter, the Nairs drop Birendra off at an orphanage in Trivandrum, the state capital of Kerala. It is here where 39-year-old Madeline, an American interior decorator to the stars, takes a detour from her relaxing seaside resort to a local orphanage in an attempt to heal her heartache by becoming a mother. When she meets Birendra, she’s smitten and promptly adopts him. But Madeline spends more time contemplating throw pillows for her affluent Southern California clientele than parenting her new son, whom she calls “Bindi,” a name she deems easier to pronounce. At Bindi’s Bollywood-themed ninth birthday party, Edward, Madeline’s brother, is alarmed by his sister’s narcissism. “He had to admit: this was a party Maddy had thrown for herself. To show off the beautiful boy she’d ‘saved.’ " If Maisano’s intent was to interrogate the fraught process of international adoption, the book falters. Aside from Birendra’s aunt, the luminous Nayana, few characters have depth. The exceedingly obedient Birendra stoically accepts his circumstances. Madeline’s fantasies about motherhood via overseas adoption seem outlandish, even for the Angelina Jolies of Tinseltown. A more sympathetic and familiar adoptive parent would have done far more to drive home the author’s point. Edward may possess the conscience his sister lacks, but like Madeline, he, too, embodies the stereotypical savior. What’s missing here is a more scrupulous study of the role of privilege in international adoption and a rigorous examination of the American colonization of brown children, cultural erasure, and appropriation.

Well-intentioned but imperfectly executed.

Pub Date: Aug. 14, 2018

ISBN: 978-0-316-50948-0

Page Count: 336

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: May 27, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2018

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HOUSE OF LEAVES

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

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THE SECRET HISTORY

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

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