A sharp, literate roman à clef for readers who like their female empowerment free from sentimentality.
A momentous week in the life of a bright, withdrawn young English woman whose husband has just left her.
A self-described “hack” travel writer with a noticeable limp caused by a teenage illness, Ramble is shocked, but somehow not surprised, when her husband Con informs her that their marriage is over. Telling her cruelly that she is an “autistic vampire” who needs to find her own life, the obnoxiously self-absorbed Con is right about one thing—Ramble is an especially insular character. She prefers books to meeting new people and while she possesses a keen mind constantly buzzing with fascinating bits of information, she nonetheless has difficulty communicating. She even avoids telling people for days that Con is gone, increasing her isolation. Con does not say where he is staying or what she should do about the rent. But he has, it appears, taken up with their streetwise new neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, a couple of low-level criminals specializing in credit-card fraud and “fixing” meters. While trying to absorb this unexpected twist, Ramble walks around in a kind of post-traumatic haze, going through the motions of her normal life while trying to make sense of the past choices that led her to her current crisis. Showing flashes of dark wit and a slow-to-emerge vulnerability, Ramble ultimately manages some meaningful interactions within her small circle, including a visit to her senile grandmother Stella and an unexpectedly sensual evening with childhood friend Johnson. She also finds an unlikely ally in the tough-talking Mrs. Shaw, whose stories of her own husband’s regular disappearances help Ramble gain perspective on her own difficulties. These various characters, along with some quietly devastating insights, give our heroine courage for the literal and metaphorical steps she knows she must take, making the conclusion of Gowers’s occasionally inscrutable debut heartening indeed.
A sharp, literate roman à clef for readers who like their female empowerment free from sentimentality.Pub Date: Oct. 1, 2007
ISBN: 978-1-84195-946-7
Page Count: 240
Publisher: Canongate
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2007
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.
Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985
ISBN: 038549081X
Page Count: -
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.
Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958
ISBN: 0385474547
Page Count: 207
Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky
Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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