Set in upstate New York like its predecessors (Mohawk, 1986; The Risk Pool, 1988), Russo's third is a slice of small-town life: thick slice, big cast, much bustle, but no storyline, no climax, no epiphanies. It is Donald Sullivan, known as Sully, who is "nobody's fool" (both meanings apply). The 60-year-old handyman, who has lived all his life in the Adirondacks town of New Bath, has relied on his ability to roll with the punches to see him through a harsh childhood (dominated by his brutal father, Big Jim), a brief marriage to the demanding Vera, and other adversities, some the result of his own "stupid streaks." During the midwinter weeks in 1984 that are the novel's span, the fun-loving but self-destructive Sully's latest stupid streak will end his long relationship with his mistress Ruth, a married woman, and jeopardize his tenancy (Sully lives in the home of his retired eighth-grade teacher, Miss Beryl, a spry, good-hearted octogenarian); he will also deck a cop and spend time in jail. More positively, he will become partially reconciled with his son Peter, whose own marriage has just fallen apart. As we follow Sully from his various workplaces to his hangouts (Hattie's diner, the bar, the OTB) and listen to the endless joshing between him and his sidekick Rub, a loyal half-wit, his equally loyal lawyer Wirf, and his tomcatting boss Carl Roebuck, we realize that Russo's novel is about the compensations of male camaraderie for the unsuccessful husband, father, and lover. Russo does small-town life as well as anyone, but his latest is too much of a good thing. He leaves the impression of a writer who has reached a plateau but is unwilling or unable to move on.
Pub Date: June 1, 1993
ISBN: 0099574918
Page Count: 576
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 1993
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
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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