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THE ELECTRIC

An engaging novel, which successfully merges a drama and a thriller into a period piece.

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A young boy’s discovery of bones on his family’s Oklahoma farm throws his life into a tailspin in Fuller’s (Decency, 2012) post–World War II novel.

In 1946, 7-year-old Joe works hard on a farm with no electricity. Power companies are looking for land, and Joe’s grandfather hears that organized crime is trying to muscle its way into the electricity business. After Joe discovers what appear to be human remains, James, a man helping at the farm, is arrested for murder. Billy Joe Parmalee, a young attorney, asks Joe if he will help him prove that James is innocent. As the story progresses, the child learns that not everyone is trustworthy. Fuller delivers a novel that’s fully engaged with its time period: Joe is in awe over such things as cameras and telephones and is impressed by a house that has not one, but two toilets conveniently located inside. The author provides the boy with a rich history—his father died during the war, and his mother, during the course of the narrative, moves to Kansas City to make a better life for herself and her son. Joe’s interactions with his family, particularly his grandpa, make for sweet moments, but the standout scenes are those with Joe and the lawyer, as the two work on James’ case. Fuller appropriately and endearingly highlights the farm’s chores; milking the cows is done so often that people use them to measure the time of day, and laundry is an all-day event. Joe comes across as a naïve, believable 7-year-old, but he also displays shrewdness and levelheadedness. He has cravings for cream sodas but also describes his anger as “sour acid rivers” that have “raged in [his] veins.” The story is written in Joe’s dialect—the phrase “might could” appears often.  But the author’s stylistic bravura really drives the novel home, as he effectively uses fragmented sentences in the more intense scenes, such as Joe’s nightmare that opens the story.

An engaging novel, which successfully merges a drama and a thriller into a period piece.

Pub Date: Nov. 6, 2012

ISBN: 978-1478383499

Page Count: 226

Publisher: CreateSpace

Review Posted Online: Jan. 23, 2013

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2013

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THE NIGHTINGALE

Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.

Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.

In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.

Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.

Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015

ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3

Page Count: 448

Publisher: St. Martin's

Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014

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CIRCE

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

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A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.

“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

Pub Date: April 10, 2018

ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7

Page Count: 400

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018

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