Read this one slowly, to savor.
Loosely autobiographical, multigenerational first novel: exotic, sensual, sometimes sentimental, often searing, and ultimately universal in its depiction of an Indian family in Malaysia.
It’s 1931, and 14-year-old Lakshmi leaves Ceylon in an arranged marriage to the much older Ayah. When Ayah turns out to be not the rich businessman Lakshmi expected but a lowly clerk whose sweet, simple nature keeps him from professional advancement, bright and ambitious Lakshmi quickly takes charge of their financial and domestic affairs. By the time she’s twenty she has six children whom she feeds, clothes, and educates with iron-willed devotion. There are the twins, brilliant oldest son Lakshmnan and his twin sister Mohini, with her otherworldly beauty; pretty Anna; the adventurous outsider Sevenese; Jeyan, who is perhaps not as simple-minded as everyone assumes; and the homely, shy Lalita. The children all remember their early years as close to idyllic. Then WWII breaks out. When Mohini is raped and killed by the Japanese (whom Manicka, with a loss of perspective, portrays as unrelentingly monsterlike), the family begins to fall apart. Lakshmi has fits of rage that approach madness, while Lakshmnan’s early promise fizzles into dissolute gambling and an unhappy marriage (his wife is an almost cartoonish villain among otherwise highly nuanced characters). Except for the happily married Anna, life does not work out as Lakshmi planned for her children. Yet they all revere her, even Lakshmnan; and Ayah’s gentle love provides an emotional ballast that Lakshmi does not understand until too late. Lakshmnan’s daughter Dimple, whose beauty recalls Mohini, tape-records her aunts’ and uncles’ (as well as her parents’ and grandparents’) memories—and shifting perspectives—to preserve the family legacy for her own daughter. Toward the end Manicka falters, forcing the story of Dimple’s unhappy marriage into plot manipulations that feel forced, but, still, the story’s richness and careful accumulation of detail are reminiscent of a very different family chronicle, Thomas Mann’s Buddenbrooks
Read this one slowly, to savor.Pub Date: July 1, 2003
ISBN: 0-670-03192-5
Page Count: 448
Publisher: Viking
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2003
An unusual, overextended romance, fairy tale in parts but with a sprinkling of grit.
Cleverly combining tender and tough, Diffenbaugh’s highly anticipated debut creates a place in the world for a social misfit with floral insight.
After more than 32 homes, 18-year-old Victoria Jones, abandoned as a baby, has given up on the idea of love or family. Scarred, suspicious and defiant, she has nothing: no friends, no money, just an attitude, an instinct for flowers and an education in their meaning from Elizabeth, the one kind foster parent who persevered with her. Now graduating out of state care, Victoria must make her own way and starts out by sleeping rough in a local San Francisco park. But a florist gives her casual work and then, at a flower market, she meets Grant, Elizabeth’s nephew, another awkward soul who speaks the language of flowers. Diffenbaugh narrates Victoria and Grant’s present-day involvement, over which the cloud of the past hangs heavy, in parallel with the history of Elizabeth’s foster care, which we know ended badly. After a strong, self-destructive start, Victoria’s long road to redemption takes some dips including an unconvincing, drawn-out subplot involving Elizabeth’s sister, arson and postnatal depression. While true to the logic of its perverse psychology, the story can be exasperating before finally swerving toward the light.
An unusual, overextended romance, fairy tale in parts but with a sprinkling of grit.Pub Date: Aug. 23, 2011
ISBN: 978-0-345-52554-3
Page Count: 336
Publisher: Ballantine
Review Posted Online: July 19, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2011
BOOK REVIEW
With wit and poetry, Dunn redefines the limits of the acceptable.
Like a collaboration between John Irving and David Lynch, this audaciously conceived, sometimes shocking tale of love and hubris in a carnival family exerts the same mesmeric fascination as the freaks it depicts, despite essential structural flaws.
In language as original and fantastic as her story, Dunn (Attic, 1970; Truck, 1971) tells the tale of Binewski's Carnival Fabulon, an unremarkable traveling show until patriarch Aloysius decides to breed his own freaks. Using drugs, insecticides and radioactivity, Al and his wife Crystal Lil, sometime geek, produce Arturo, a thalidomide child; Elly and Iphy, beautiful Siamese twins; Olympia, the novel's narrator, an albino hunchbacked dwarf trained as a barker; and the outwardly normal but telekinetic Chick. With overtones of classical tragedy, Olympia relates Arturo's growing power: first over his sisters, who vie for his love, then over the entire show, and finally over the many followers of the cult of "Arturism," who, like their prophet, have pieces of themselves amputated to transcend appearance. (Arms and legs become lion food; hands and feet, fodder for "transcendental maggots," ironic souveniors of Arturo.) Arturo's pride and jealousy combine with the arrival of a failed assassin, now a freak himself, and with the twins' sideline of selling "norms" unique sex, to bring the show to a flaming end. Although the framing story—years later, Olympia schemes to save Miranda, her daughter by Arturo, from a perverse philanthropist—is poorly integrated, and the novel sometimes judders along, this is captivatingly original stuff.
With wit and poetry, Dunn redefines the limits of the acceptable.Pub Date: March 27, 1989
ISBN: 394-56902-4
Page Count: -
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
BOOK REVIEW
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