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THE VENTRILOQUIST'S TALE

“All stories are told for revenge or tribute,” says the unnamed narrator here. Not until late in this prodigiously inventive and stirring novel is it clear that this one is told for both. Britisher Melville, author of a story collection not published here (Shape-Shifter), sets her novel in Guyana, the former British colony. Hovering over it is the shade of Evelyn Waugh, who traveled to Guyana in 1933 and memorably depicted the colony as a kind of anteroom to hell in his story “The Man Who Liked Dickens.” Rosa Mendelson, a literary critic, now arrives in Guyana five decades later to research Waugh’s travels. She is warned that it’s “a country where you will have to surrender to the unexpected. The ferry will break down . . . You are at the mercy of the random.” The random in her case leads to a romance with Chofy, a Wapisiana Indian, through whom Rosa discovers the beauties of Guyana’s jungles and savannahs and the restorative (if ambiguous) pleasure of stories. The body of the novel explores several related themes, including Rosa’s discovery of the ways aboriginal and Western cultures tragically continue to misunderstand one another—one such misunderstanding bringing about the death of Chofy’s young son. Melville is intrigued also by the ways myths shape and are shaped by human longings, a theme explored in the tale of two of Chofy’s ancestors, a brother and sister involved in an incestuous relationship that seems, in part, the living out of an ancient Wapiniana legend. For the Wapisiana, it is tales that possess true life; the mundane matter of everyday life “is an illusion behind which lay the unchanging reality of dream and myth.” Melville’s wise and artful fiction suggests, in Rosa’s fate, some of the ways the West and the larger world, as well as myth and the mundane, might find common ground Rich, penetrating, idiosyncratic work from a new, uniquely gifted storyteller.

Pub Date: Sept. 3, 1998

ISBN: 1-58234-009-9

Page Count: 368

Publisher: Bloomsbury

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1998

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IF CATS DISAPPEARED FROM THE WORLD

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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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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