A debut novel by critic and showbiz historian Kashner (Hollywood Kryptonite, 1996) that portrays the inner life of a demented Frank Sinatra fan. Everyone knows that the really big stars never read their own fan mail, but that hasn—t stopped a soul from writing. Certainly it hasn—t stopped “Finkie” Finklestein, a New Jersey sales rep for Weiss & Rifkind window shades, from keeping up a regular—if entirely one-sided—correspondence with Sinatra for more than 20 years. Not content simply to flatter his idol (—Believe you me, Frank, Marriage on the Rocks has a lot going for it—), Finkie keeps him posted on how business is these days (—Levelor Blinds . . . is a tide that rises all Finklestein boats—), and what’s up on the home front in Fort Lee. A husband and father—who names his daughter Nancy Ava—Finkie’s not quite a skirt-chaser on the level with Old Blue Eyes himself, but he’s had his share of trouble, including a nasty divorce and a second marriage that ends in utter disaster. Frank is the still point of his turning world. So, naturally, when Finkie hears that Sinatra is going to retire, he makes it down to the Music Center for the farewell concert and tries to pay his respects in person by making a trip backstage after the performance. That’s when the miracle strikes: Sinatra’s bodyguards catch Finkie in the wings and beat him to a bloody pulp: “Before the night of June 14, 1971, I had spent over twenty years trying to come up with ways to meet you by accident,” he says. Sinatra, shaken by the potential bad publicity, pursues Finkie—and offers him a job on his entourage to keep him from pressing charges. Will Finkie ever wise up? O ye of little faith! He couldn—t have written a happier ending himself. A weirdly affecting portrait of innocence verging on monomania.
Pub Date: March 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-87951-917-7
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Overlook
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1999
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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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