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I AM NOT SIDNEY POITIER

The author had some fun; the reader will too.

Everett (The Water Cure, 2007, etc.) returns with what might be considered a wacky slapstick.

His allegory about race, class and celebrity takes a turn toward the silly, as the protagonist’s name—literally, “Not Sidney Poitier”— inspires all sorts of Abbott and Costello “Who’s on First?” riffing. (“Knot, with a k?”...“Not with a k”…“That’s what I said”… “N-O-T”…“Sidney?”… “Not my name is not Sidney. My name is Not Sidney.”) Not Sidney is an orphan, born to a crazy woman following a 24-month pregnancy. Yet his late mother was wiser than most of the other characters the young innocent will encounter in his wildly absurd travels across the American South. At least she had the good sense to invest early and often in the Turner Broadcasting System, leaving her son so rich he does not know the extent of his fortune. Since Not Sidney never knew his father, the two formative figures in his life are Ted Turner, who takes him in after his mother’s death, and Percival Everett, a buffoon of a professor who spouts nonsense as higher sense. (The standard disclaimer, that “this novel is NOT in any way a depiction of anyone living, dead or imagined by anyone other than the author,” is followed by a rather more unusual corollary: “This qualification applies, equally, to the character whose name is the same as the author’s.”) Turner and Everett rescue Not Sidney when he, like Huck Finn, attempts to light out for the territory and lands in the racist backwoods of Peckerwood County and Smuteye, Ala. Yet Not Sidney encounters racism in subtler ways, such as when a prospective girlfriend’s parents dismiss him as too dark until the extent of his fortune reveals him to be plenty light enough.

The author had some fun; the reader will too.

Pub Date: June 1, 2009

ISBN: 978-1-55597-527-2

Page Count: 270

Publisher: Graywolf

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2009

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PRACTICAL MAGIC

Part of Hoffman's great talent is her wonderful ability to sift some magic into unlikely places, such as a latter-day Levittown (Seventh Heaven, 1990) or a community of divorcÇes in Florida (Turtle Moon, 1992). But in her 11th novel, a tale of love and life in New England, it feels as if the lid flew off the jar of magic—it blinds you with fairy dust. Sally and Gillian Owens are orphaned sisters, only 13 months apart, but such opposites in appearance and temperament that they're dubbed ``Day and Night'' by the two old aunts who are raising them. Sally is steady, Gillian is jittery, and each is wary, in her own way, about the frightening pull of love. They've seen the evidence for themselves in the besotted behavior of the women who call on the two aunts for charms and potions to help them with their love lives. The aunts grow herbs, make mysterious brews, and have a houseful of—what else?—black cats. The two girls grow up to flee (in opposite directions) from the aunts, the house, and the Massachusetts town where they've long been shunned by their superstitious schoolmates. What they can't escape is magic, which follows them, sometimes in a particularly malevolent form. And, ultimately, no matter how hard they dodge it, they have to recognize that love always catches up with you. As always, Hoffman's writing has plenty of power. Her best sentences are like incantations—they won't let you get away. But it's just too hard to believe the magic here, maybe because it's not so much practical magic as it is predictable magic, with its crones and bubbling cauldrons and hearts of animals pierced with pins. Sally and Gillian are appealing characters, but, finally, their story seems as murky as one of the aunts' potions—and just as hard to swallow. Too much hocus-pocus, not enough focus. (Book-of-the-Month Club selection)

Pub Date: June 14, 1995

ISBN: 0-399-14055-7

Page Count: 256

Publisher: Putnam

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 1995

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LIVES OF THE MONSTER DOGS

New York is colonized by giant talking canines in newcomer Bakis's wry variation on the traditional shaggy dog story. Imagination is the key here. We need to understand that at the end of the 19th century a crazed German biologist named Augustus Rank performed a succession of medical experiments that resulted in a weird genetic mutation of his subjects and created a race of ``monster dogs''—giant rottweilers and Dobermans who can speak and walk on their hind legs. After living for more than a hundred years in the seclusion of a remote Canadian settlement called Rankstadt, they are forced to move in the year 2008 to New York (where 150 of them take up residence at the Plaza Hotel) when Rankstadt is destroyed. In their 19th-century garb—Prussian military uniforms for the ``men,'' bustles for the ``women''—they cut impressive figures on the streets of Manhattan, where they quickly become celebrities and philanthropists. At Christmas they parade down Fifth Avenue in sleighs, and shortly after their arrival they construct an enormous Bavarian castle on the Lower East Side. When an NYU coed named Cleo Pira writes about them for a local newspaper, the dogs adopt her as their spokesperson and bring her into the inner life of their society. From Cleo's perspective the dogs are benign, quaint, and deeply tragic, and the more fascinated she becomes by their history—both as they relate it to her and as she discovers it for herself through Rank's own archives—the darker and more doomed their society appears. By the time Cleo has learned the secrets contained in Rank's past, it's too late to save his descendants, who have unknowingly brought about their own destruction. Serious enough, but also funny and imaginative: a vivid parable that manages to amuse even as it perplexes and intrigues.

Pub Date: Feb. 1, 1997

ISBN: 0-374-18987-0

Page Count: 320

Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 1996

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