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MONEY TO BURN

Latin American noir at its best—and further evidence of Piglia’s remarkable versatility and skill.

The Argentinean author of Artificial Respiration (1994) and The Absent City (2000) brilliantly re-creates a notorious, real-life 1965 Buenos Aires bank robbery and its aftermath.

Piglia’s semidocumentary structure embraces both the aforementioned event and its perpetrators, their associates, and victims. A tense opening sequence introduces the “twins” (devoid of family connection or physical resemblance): “Gaucho” Dorda (“The born criminal, the man who had been ruined since boyhood”) and Franco “Kid” Brignone, a cunning, soulless spoiled angel. The two are sometime homosexual lovers. Then we encounter their “mad” boss Malito, drug-addled “Twisty” Bazan, sexual athlete “Crow” Mereles, and their “organizer” (Her)Nando Heguilen (who supervises contacts—for example, with colluding police who’ll share the take). The violent robbery itself (committed during a payroll transfer), the gang’s flight to Montevideo (en route to Paraguay), and the lengthy “siege” and bloodbath that ensue are quite vividly narrated, and also intriguingly punctuated by the testimony and thoughts of various witnesses, corrupt Buenos Aires police commissioner Silva, and such briefly though crucially involved characters as police wireless operator Roque Perez. Further levels of both interest and irony are added by the thieves’ insistence that they are honorable revolutionaries (“We’re Peronist activists, exiles, fighting for the General’s [i.e., exiled dictator Juan Peron’s] return”) and by the public outcry created when gang members trapped in a surrounded hotel defiantly burn their loot, showering the siege’s observers with flaming banknotes. And Piglia uses flashbacks with equal dexterity, illuminating his self-doomed protagonists’ twisted beginnings (the account of Dorda’s horrific childhood is particularly potent) and their subsequent paths to petty crime, prison, and their violent ends. Money to Burn inspired the recent prizewinning film Plata Quemada; in fact, it reads like an Argentinean Asphalt Jungle.

Latin American noir at its best—and further evidence of Piglia’s remarkable versatility and skill.

Pub Date: Nov. 1, 2003

ISBN: 1-86207-592-1

Page Count: 224

Publisher: Granta

Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2003

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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 HANDMAID'S TALE

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

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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

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