Two novellas that, though more subdued than Ingalls's last collection (The End of Tragedy, 1989), show her as adept as ever at mixing the sinister and the commonplace to create psychological suspense. In Sis and Bud, Alma and Bruce are enjoying an ordinary American childhood, secure in the love of their decent if fuddy- duddy parents, Elton and Bess. When the kids turn 14, the parents tell them that they're adopted. Bruce is horrified, and determined to make his biological parents pay for their betrayal; but Alma is pleased, feeling free to love her dear brother in a new way (Bruce will have none of it). Time goes by. Bruce leaves his home, somewhere in the East, and tracks his birth mother to Kentucky. There, mother Joanna has a prosperous marriage and two grown daughters who Bruce (having ingratiated himself with the family) decides are ``too shallow to be hurt''; Joanna is his target. A climax involving incest and murder also reveals that Joanna wanted to pay back her own parents for their victimization of her; like mother, like son. In the title story, working-girl Sandra is a different kind of victim—not the captive of her genes but of romantic illusion. About to dump her insensitive boyfriend Bert, she is fair game for the first man who'll show her attention; and Roy Martinson seems like the perfect stranger, even if he's rumored to have killed his first wife and is the father of the exceedingly creepy Eric, who cut open his pet hamster ``to see what was inside.'' Roy proposes on their second date, and Sandra accepts, sustained by blind faith; but will it save her from these two operators? What's lacking here is the wildly inventive quality of Ingalls's best work—but, still, this is solid entertainment.
Pub Date: June 8, 1992
ISBN: 0-679-41300-6
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 1992
The phrase “tour de force” could have been invented for this audacious novel.
Four men who meet as college roommates move to New York and spend the next three decades gaining renown in their professions—as an architect, painter, actor and lawyer—and struggling with demons in their intertwined personal lives.
Yanagihara (The People in the Trees, 2013) takes the still-bold leap of writing about characters who don’t share her background; in addition to being male, JB is African-American, Malcolm has a black father and white mother, Willem is white, and “Jude’s race was undetermined”—deserted at birth, he was raised in a monastery and had an unspeakably traumatic childhood that’s revealed slowly over the course of the book. Two of them are gay, one straight and one bisexual. There isn’t a single significant female character, and for a long novel, there isn’t much plot. There aren’t even many markers of what’s happening in the outside world; Jude moves to a loft in SoHo as a young man, but we don’t see the neighborhood change from gritty artists’ enclave to glitzy tourist destination. What we get instead is an intensely interior look at the friends’ psyches and relationships, and it’s utterly enthralling. The four men think about work and creativity and success and failure; they cook for each other, compete with each other and jostle for each other’s affection. JB bases his entire artistic career on painting portraits of his friends, while Malcolm takes care of them by designing their apartments and houses. When Jude, as an adult, is adopted by his favorite Harvard law professor, his friends join him for Thanksgiving in Cambridge every year. And when Willem becomes a movie star, they all bask in his glow. Eventually, the tone darkens and the story narrows to focus on Jude as the pain of his past cuts deep into his carefully constructed life.
The phrase “tour de force” could have been invented for this audacious novel.Pub Date: March 10, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-385-53925-8
Page Count: 720
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: Dec. 21, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2015
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
PROFILES
PERSPECTIVES
A strict report, worthy of sympathy.
A violent surfacing of adolescence (which has little in common with Tarkington's earlier, broadly comic, Seventeen) has a compulsive impact.
"Nobody big except me" is the dream world of Holden Caulfield and his first person story is down to the basic, drab English of the pre-collegiate. For Holden is now being bounced from fancy prep, and, after a vicious evening with hall- and roommates, heads for New York to try to keep his latest failure from his parents. He tries to have a wild evening (all he does is pay the check), is terrorized by the hotel elevator man and his on-call whore, has a date with a girl he likes—and hates, sees his 10 year old sister, Phoebe. He also visits a sympathetic English teacher after trying on a drunken session, and when he keeps his date with Phoebe, who turns up with her suitcase to join him on his flight, he heads home to a hospital siege. This is tender and true, and impossible, in its picture of the old hells of young boys, the lonesomeness and tentative attempts to be mature and secure, the awful block between youth and being grown-up, the fright and sickness that humans and their behavior cause the challenging, the dramatization of the big bang. It is a sorry little worm's view of the off-beat of adult pressure, of contemporary strictures and conformity, of sentiment….
A strict report, worthy of sympathy.Pub Date: June 15, 1951
ISBN: 0316769177
Page Count: -
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 1951
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
APPRECIATIONS
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