At times burdened by overblown prose and the weight of its own ambitions, this novel exhibits, particularly in...
Guzeman’s debut examines the impact of a dissolute artist’s self-absorption on already fractured families.
When Thomas Bayber, scion of a wealthy family he’s disappointed with his painterly ambitions, runs into the Kessler sisters during a 1963 summer vacation, he unknowingly seals all their fates. Beautiful but resentful Natalie, 17, and budding ornithologist Alice, 14, are both immediately smitten with Thomas, who, while sketching the Kessler family, insouciantly but not unwittingly pits the sisters against one another. The narrative shifts to 2007. Thomas, a world-renowned painter-turned–alcoholic recluse, has summoned to his musty Brooklyn digs the remnants of his entourage: Finch, an aging art history academic, recently widowed, who has been supporting the bankrupt Thomas for years, and Stephen, a marginally autistic, 30-something art appraiser whose career was scuttled by his Tourette’s-like honesty. Unveiling a portrait that is potentially worth millions, Thomas sets Finch and Stephen on a quest: The portrait, based on that long-ago Kessler sketch, is part of a triptych: There are two other panels out there somewhere…but where? In further flashbacks, we learn that Alice has suffered from rheumatoid arthritis since 1963; that she had a brief assignation with Thomas that resulted in a pregnancy and the theft of a valuable porcelain grosbeak; and that Natalie, charged with Alice’s care after their parents were killed in a car crash, resorted to some heartless expedients. Among these were spiriting her sister and herself from their childhood Connecticut home to a tiny Tennessee town. The true reasons for this dislocation will emerge as Finch and Stephen, whose feuding phobias make for entertaining road trips, traverse the country in search of clues. The whereabouts of Alice’s lost child (who Natalie said died at birth) is only one of the melodramatic elements that pile up like crash debris as the story lurches to its credulity-straining, redemptive close.
At times burdened by overblown prose and the weight of its own ambitions, this novel exhibits, particularly in characterization and dialogue, glimmers of genius.Pub Date: Aug. 6, 2013
ISBN: 978-1-4516-8976-1
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: June 8, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2013
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.
A lonely postman learns that he’s about to die—and reflects on life as he bargains with a Hawaiian-shirt–wearing devil.
The 30-year-old first-person narrator in filmmaker/novelist Kawamura’s slim novel is, by his own admission, “boring…a monotone guy,” so unimaginative that, when he learns he has a brain tumor, the bucket list he writes down is dull enough that “even the cat looked disgusted with me.” Luckily—or maybe not—a friendly devil, dubbed Aloha, pops onto the scene, and he’s willing to make a deal: an extra day of life in exchange for being allowed to remove something pleasant from the world. The first thing excised is phones, which goes well enough. (The narrator is pleasantly surprised to find that “people seemed to have no problem finding something to fill up their free time.”) But deals with the devil do have a way of getting complicated. This leads to shallow musings (“Sometimes, when you rewatch a film after not having seen it for a long time, it makes a totally different impression on you than it did the first time you saw it. Of course, the movie hasn’t changed; it’s you who’s changed") written in prose so awkward, it’s possibly satire (“Tears dripped down onto the letter like warm, salty drops of rain”). Even the postman’s beloved cat, who gains the power of speech, ends up being prim and annoying. The narrator ponders feelings about a lost love, his late mother, and his estranged father in a way that some readers might find moving at times. But for many, whatever made this book a bestseller in Japan is going to be lost in translation.
Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.Pub Date: March 12, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-250-29405-0
Page Count: 176
Publisher: Flatiron Books
Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2019
The Brat Pack meets The Bacchae in this precious, way-too-long, and utterly unsuspenseful town-and-gown murder tale. A bunch of ever-so-mandarin college kids in a small Vermont school are the eager epigones of an aloof classics professor, and in their exclusivity and snobbishness and eagerness to please their teacher, they are moved to try to enact Dionysian frenzies in the woods. During the only one that actually comes off, a local farmer happens upon them—and they kill him. But the death isn't ruled a murder—and might never have been if one of the gang—a cadging sybarite named Bunny Corcoran—hadn't shown signs of cracking under the secret's weight. And so he too is dispatched. The narrator, a blank-slate Californian named Richard Pepen chronicles the coverup. But if you're thinking remorse-drama, conscience masque, or even semi-trashy who'll-break-first? page-turner, forget it: This is a straight gee-whiz, first-to-have-ever-noticed college novel—"Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally thought to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion." First-novelist Tartt goes muzzy when she has to describe human confrontations (the murder, or sex, or even the ping-ponging of fear), and is much more comfortable in transcribing aimless dorm-room paranoia or the TV shows that the malefactors anesthetize themselves with as fate ticks down. By telegraphing the murders, Tartt wants us to be continually horrified at these kids—while inviting us to semi-enjoy their manneristic fetishes and refined tastes. This ersatz-Fitzgerald mix of moralizing and mirror-looking (Jay McInerney shook and poured the shaker first) is very 80's—and in Tartt's strenuous version already seems dated, formulaic. Les Nerds du Mal—and about as deep (if not nearly as involving) as a TV movie.
Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992
ISBN: 1400031702
Page Count: 592
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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