A short, quirky and sometimes-compelling book from the author of The Flamethrowers (2013).
Three offbeat tales that border on the surreal yet are curiously (and paradoxically) anchored in a version of historical reality.
In the first story, “The Great Exception,” an unnamed admiral tells a queen he believes the Earth is pear-shaped rather than round and requests money to allow him to fulfill his vision of exploration. This she grants him, though his voyage concludes with the natives of “Kuba” cooking and eating him. (First, however, they sever his toes so he can't “tromp inland and subjugate the island.”) While awaiting word of the disposition of the admiral’s voyage, the queen pines for him with an intensity bordering on the sexual. In “Debouchment,” despite a woman’s disclaimer that life on an island (also reminiscent of Cuba) is not especially violent, a faith healer provides hope to the people in his illegal radio broadcasts—all this in a landscape where there are “humans hanging in the trees beyond the security fence.” The final story is the most complex and subtle, and it gives the collection its title. The action unfolds explicitly in Havana in 1952 against a backdrop of Batista's rise to power; it focuses on the mysterious Rachel K, a “zazou” dancer from Paris who entertains (in all senses) her male audience and particularly gets the attention of Christian de la Mazière, a French Nazi now living on the island after having been sentenced to five years in a rather cushy prison.
A short, quirky and sometimes-compelling book from the author of The Flamethrowers (2013).Pub Date: Feb. 10, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-8112-2421-5
Page Count: 96
Publisher: New Directions
Review Posted Online: Nov. 28, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2014
It's being called a novel, but it is more a hybrid: short-stories/essays/confessions about the Vietnam War—the subject that O'Brien reasonably comes back to with every book. Some of these stories/memoirs are very good in their starkness and factualness: the title piece, about what a foot soldier actually has on him (weights included) at any given time, lends a palpability that makes the emotional freight (fear, horror, guilt) correspond superbly. Maybe the most moving piece here is "On The Rainy River," about a draftee's ambivalence about going, and how he decided to go: "I would go to war—I would kill and maybe die—because I was embarrassed not to." But so much else is so structurally coy that real effects are muted and disadvantaged: O'Brien is writing a book more about earnestness than about war, and the peekaboos of this isn't really me but of course it truly is serve no true purpose. They make this an annoyingly arty book, hiding more than not behind Hemingwayesque time-signatures and puerile repetitions about war (and memory and everything else, for that matter) being hell and heaven both. A disappointment.
Pub Date: March 28, 1990
ISBN: 0618706410
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Oct. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1990
SEEN & HEARD
IN THE NEWS
SEEN & HEARD
As Tolkien had his Silmarillion, so Martin has this trilogy of foundational tales. They succeed on their own, but in...
Huzzah! Martin (The Ice Dragon, 2014, etc.) delivers just what fans have been waiting for: stirring tales of the founding of the Targaryen line.
Duncan—Dunk for short—has his hapless moments. He’s big, nearly gigantic, “hugely tall for his age, a shambling, shaggy, big-boned boy of sixteen or seventeen.” Uncertain of himself, clumsy, and alone in the world, he has every one of the makings of a hero, if only events will turn in that direction. They do, courtesy of a tiny boy who steals into the “hedge knight” Dunk’s life and eventually reveals a name to match that of Ser Duncan the Tall—an altogether better name, at that, than Duncan of Flea Bottom would have been. Egg, as the squire calls himself, has a strange light about him, as if he will be destined to go on to better things, as indeed he will. Reminiscent of a simpler Arthur Rackham, the illustrations capture that light, as they do the growing friendship between Dunk and Egg—think Manute Bol and Muggsy Bogues, if your knowledge of basketball matches your interest in fantasy. This being Martin, that friendship will not be without its fraught moments, its dangers and double crosses and knightly politics. There are plenty of goopily violent episodes as well, from jousts (“this time Lord Leo Tyrell aimed his point so expertly he ripped the Grey Lion’s helm cleanly off his head”) to medieval torture (“Egg…used the hat to fan away the flies. There were hundreds crawling on the dead men, and more drifting lazily through the still, hot air.”). Throughout, Martin delivers thoughtful foreshadowing of the themes and lineages that will populate his Ice and Fire series, in which Egg, it turns out, is much less fragile than he seems.
As Tolkien had his Silmarillion, so Martin has this trilogy of foundational tales. They succeed on their own, but in addition, they succeed in making fans want more—and with luck, Martin will oblige them with more of these early yarns.Pub Date: Oct. 6, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-345-53348-7
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Bantam
Review Posted Online: Oct. 6, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2015
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