GlÅck pushes the envelope way too far as he attempts to use the history of a failed, would-be saint from the 15th century to explore his own romantic obsession in the 1990s. GlÅck (Jack the Modernist, not reviewed) admittedly embellishes the autobiography that Margery Kempe wrote during the 1430s to reveal the unhealthy psychology of this Jesus-crazed heretic. Margery is an upstanding woman, daughter of the mayor, wife of John, and mother of 14 children, who loses it when devils begin taunting her. But later, as she lies in the bed to which John has tied her because he's tired of her insane roaring, Jesus pays a visit, loosens her ropes, and inspires a passion that makes Margery swoon just looking at ``the semi-circles of his ass'' and the ``splayed tips of his long toes.'' Margery pretends to go on with her life, but all the while she's really waiting for Jesus in a heightened state of arousal. When he does show up ten years later, it's obvious there's going to be a whole lot of bumping and grinding going on. Unfortunately for Margery, Jesus is distant and cold (he absentmindedly counts his muscle twitchings during sex: `` `I spasmed eleven times,' he mused''), but this only makes Margery want him more. Classic victim mentality? Maybe. But GlÅck likes to think of it as Margery's modus operandi—she wants power, money, sex, prestige, and fame—and she needs Jesus to make the necessary connections to priests, vicars...even to God. If this isn't enough, the author sprinkles in his own unrequited-love story with a pretty little rich boy who refuses to make a commitment. Of course, GlÅck only gathers the strength to present his lover with a live-with-me-or-leave-me ultimatum when he sees how far Margery falls in her desire for the unattainable. Numbingly frenzied, frustrated, and futile.
Pub Date: Nov. 28, 1994
ISBN: 1-85242-334-X
Page Count: 204
Publisher: Serpent’s Tail
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 1994
BOOK REVIEW
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
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
PROFILES
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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