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THE POET IN EXILE

A certain someone is surely spinning, as they say, in his grave.

Morrison lives, more or less, in this first novel by the Doors co-founder and keyboardist.

Roy, a married man living in Los Angeles, receives a letter postmarked from the Seychelles Islands. He believes that the sender is Jordan, the former lead singer-lyricist for their old band, long thought dead from heart failure. Roy gets on a flight to the Islands, and, on the way, reminisces about the formation and commercial success of the unnamed band, and mostly about “the Poet,” as he usually refers to the lead singer, a charismatically masculine man with a bent for mysticism and alcohol. The Poet, it turns out, is indeed alive, and he and Roy are reunited. Long, rambling discussions follow as the Poet explains the circumstances behind his “death,” new life, and what he’s been up to all this time. It’s as you’d expect: tears of despair on the sandy shore, baptismal dips into Mother Ocean, and ultimately a trip to India, where the Poet explored Hindu and Buddhist thought. He went on a foothills-of-the-Himalaya quest to a village called Rishikesh, where “an angel,” a ten-year-old boy in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, leads him to the ashram Sivananda. By the end of a recital that would have put any character except Roy to sleep, the Poet feels capable of returning to America and reuniting with his old band for a farewell tour. Fate, however, has other plans. This is the sort of story that perhaps only Manzarek would have been compelled to write, and maybe somewhere there’s an audience eager enough for fantasies of Morrison’s continued existence that it can forgive prose like “his chest swelled imperceptibly” and the kind of earnest, soulful stuff that makes most readers turn away in embarrassment.

A certain someone is surely spinning, as they say, in his grave.

Pub Date: Jan. 15, 2002

ISBN: 1-56025-359-2

Page Count: 224

Publisher: N/A

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2001

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ANIMAL FARM

A FAIRY STORY

A modern day fable, with modern implications in a deceiving simplicity, by the author of Dickens. Dali and Others (Reynal & Hitchcock, p. 138), whose critical brilliance is well adapted to this type of satire. This tells of the revolt on a farm, against humans, when the pigs take over the intellectual superiority, training the horses, cows, sheep, etc., into acknowledging their greatness. The first hints come with the reading out of a pig who instigated the building of a windmill, so that the electric power would be theirs, the idea taken over by Napoleon who becomes topman with no maybes about it. Napoleon trains the young puppies to be his guards, dickers with humans, gradually instigates a reign of terror, and breaks the final commandment against any animal walking on two legs. The old faithful followers find themselves no better off for food and work than they were when man ruled them, learn their final disgrace when they see Napoleon and Squealer carousing with their enemies... A basic statement of the evils of dictatorship in that it not only corrupts the leaders, but deadens the intelligence and awareness of those led so that tyranny is inevitable. Mr. Orwell's animals exist in their own right, with a narrative as individual as it is apt in political parody.

Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1946

ISBN: 0452277507

Page Count: 114

Publisher: Harcourt, Brace

Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1946

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THE SECRET HISTORY

The Brat Pack meets The Bacchae in this precious, way-too-long, and utterly unsuspenseful town-and-gown murder tale. A bunch of ever-so-mandarin college kids in a small Vermont school are the eager epigones of an aloof classics professor, and in their exclusivity and snobbishness and eagerness to please their teacher, they are moved to try to enact Dionysian frenzies in the woods. During the only one that actually comes off, a local farmer happens upon them—and they kill him. But the death isn't ruled a murder—and might never have been if one of the gang—a cadging sybarite named Bunny Corcoran—hadn't shown signs of cracking under the secret's weight. And so he too is dispatched. The narrator, a blank-slate Californian named Richard Pepen chronicles the coverup. But if you're thinking remorse-drama, conscience masque, or even semi-trashy who'll-break-first? page-turner, forget it: This is a straight gee-whiz, first-to-have-ever-noticed college novel—"Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally thought to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion." First-novelist Tartt goes muzzy when she has to describe human confrontations (the murder, or sex, or even the ping-ponging of fear), and is much more comfortable in transcribing aimless dorm-room paranoia or the TV shows that the malefactors anesthetize themselves with as fate ticks down. By telegraphing the murders, Tartt wants us to be continually horrified at these kids—while inviting us to semi-enjoy their manneristic fetishes and refined tastes. This ersatz-Fitzgerald mix of moralizing and mirror-looking (Jay McInerney shook and poured the shaker first) is very 80's—and in Tartt's strenuous version already seems dated, formulaic. Les Nerds du Mal—and about as deep (if not nearly as involving) as a TV movie.

Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992

ISBN: 1400031702

Page Count: 592

Publisher: Knopf

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992

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