A novel of voices—men's and women's, but mostly the voices of a couple having an illicit affair, he a married writer, she another man's wife. If at first Roth here sounds like Pinter, that's not accidental, for the book as well is about the English and discretion and artistic self-revelation. The snippets of talk are rather foamy, the blackouts somewhat too pat. The voices of others—speaking to Roth himself, not to fictional alter egos Zuckerman and Tarnopol—include East European women (and in one case, an aggrieved husband) and a biographer of Zuckerman who's already dealt with Zuckerman's own subject, Lonoff. All that's here, done in thin lines, is the scaffolding of Roth's previous house of fiction—and the dramatic crest of the book comes when we're finally let inside to see a commotion in the kitchen, the tablecloth being pulled out from under the dishes, so to speak: when a voice that is Roth's wife's accuses him of really having the affairs he orchestrates here, and when the writer must once again defend-himself-by-not-defending-himself: "I have been imagining myself, outside of my novel, having a love affair with a character inside my novel. . .look, I follow my leads where they take me—ah, the hell with it. What do you propose, that I police myself? That I don't follow through on this sort of impulse for fear—for fear of what? Enlightened prurient opinion? Well, not by you and not by anyone will I be censored like that!" With the added, more profound note: "I portray myself as implicated because it is not enough just to be present." More expository "presence" might have supercharged this (as it did in The Counterlife) origami-model Roth novel a little, though: you do have the feeling of being set up, of it being all indictment and no trial.
Pub Date: April 1, 1990
ISBN: 0679752943
Page Count: 216
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: Oct. 4, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 1990
Steinbeck is a genius and an original.
Steinbeck refuses to allow himself to be pigeonholed.
This is as completely different from Tortilla Flat and In Dubious Battle as they are from each other. Only in his complete understanding of the proletarian mentality does he sustain a connecting link though this is assuredly not a "proletarian novel." It is oddly absorbing this picture of the strange friendship between the strong man and the giant with the mind of a not-quite-bright child. Driven from job to job by the failure of the giant child to fit into the social pattern, they finally find in a ranch what they feel their chance to achieve a homely dream they have built. But once again, society defeats them. There's a simplicity, a directness, a poignancy in the story that gives it a singular power, difficult to define. Steinbeck is a genius and an original.Pub Date: Feb. 26, 1936
ISBN: 0140177396
Page Count: 83
Publisher: Covici, Friede
Review Posted Online: Oct. 5, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1936
IN THE NEWS
SEEN & HEARD
A novel of horrific beauty, where death is the only truth.
Even within the author’s extraordinary body of work, this stands as a radical achievement, a novel that demands to be read and reread.
McCarthy (No Country for Old Men, 2005, etc.) pushes his thematic obsessions to their extremes in a parable that reads like Night of the Living Dead as rewritten by Samuel Beckett. Where much of McCarthy’s fiction has been set in the recent past of the South and West, here he conjures a nightmare of an indeterminate future. A great fire has left the country covered in layers of ash and littered with incinerated corpses. Foraging through the wasteland are a father and son, neither named (though the son calls the father “Papa”). The father dimly remembers the world as it was and occasionally dreams of it. The son was born on the cusp of whatever has happened—apocalypse? holocaust?—and has never known anything else. His mother committed suicide rather than face the unspeakable horror. As they scavenge for survival, they consider themselves the “good guys,” carriers of the fire, while most of the few remaining survivors are “bad guys,” cannibals who eat babies. In order to live, they must keep moving amid this shadowy landscape, in which ashes have all but obliterated the sun. In their encounters along their pilgrimage to the coast, where things might not be better but where they can go no further, the boy emerges as the novel’s moral conscience. The relationship between father and son has a sweetness that represents all that’s good in a universe where conventional notions of good and evil have been extinguished. Amid the bleakness of survival—through which those who wish they’d never been born struggle to persevere—there are glimmers of comedy in an encounter with an old man who plays the philosophical role of the Shakespearean fool. Though the sentences of McCarthy’s recent work are shorter and simpler than they once were, his prose combines the cadence of prophecy with the indelible images of poetry.
A novel of horrific beauty, where death is the only truth.Pub Date: Oct. 2, 2006
ISBN: 0-307-26543-9
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2006
PERSPECTIVES
IN THE NEWS
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