Imaginative and original, this is a novel that should have resonated more deeply.
In Murphy’s debut novel, people can reconnect with the dead through the Elysian Society, whose employees—known as “bodies”—are temporarily possessed with the help of a drug called a “lotus.”
Eurydice, or Edie, as she is better known, has worked as a body for five years when she meets Patrick Braddock, who wants to connect to his beautiful late wife, Sylvia. From the beginning, she finds herself strangely drawn to Patrick but also to pictures of Sylvia, and when Patrick breaks protocol and gives her many of Sylvia’s possessions to use during her channeling, Edie is unable—and unwilling—to refuse. As Edie falls deeper into lust with Patrick, she can’t let go of Sylvia, whose spirit seems to have taken possession of the corners of her soul and body, and she continues to investigate the mysterious circumstances that surround Sylvia’s drowning. Meanwhile, a highly publicized murder turns out to be connected to the shadowy Elysian Society. The novel's power lies in a careful balance between concealment and explanation. For example, it isn’t until Edie watches one of the other bodies channel a dead spirit that we as readers understand how the process works and, more important, how the bodies act when they're channeling. The psychology is endlessly fascinating, and there should have been a chance for deep exploration of grief’s clarity and its selfishness. The weakness is Edie herself. She often references her plainness, the fact that her personality has a certain blankness that better allows her to channel others, but this blankness also renders the narrative voice both emotionless and self-righteous, so it can be hard to connect to and feel sympathy for the character.
Imaginative and original, this is a novel that should have resonated more deeply.Pub Date: Feb. 7, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-06-245832-2
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Harper/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: Nov. 6, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2016
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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