A sweeping, unpredictable fictional autobiography.
Growing up is tough on Poe’s (Simon Says, 2012) titular protagonist in this thoughtful, gritty tale.
Simon Powell grew up gay, smart and constantly searching for fulfillment in the rural South in the 1960s and ’70s. As the novel opens, Simon is writing down his personal story while staying at a rehab facility and trying to work through his problems—which are, as he would say, “legion.” The word “journey” is often overused, but it absolutely applies to Simon’s experiences, starting with his first sexual encounters with his best friend. Later, after high school, he fights to establish his own identity in a world full of new ideas, drugs and quasi-religions; soon, he comes under the influence of the Rev. Sun Myung Moon and his Unification Church members before an inevitable disillusionment. Simon’s search for himself leads him into esoteric areas of philosophy, music, art and drugs; along the way, his musings are peppered with big names, from musician Jimi Hendrix to artist Willem de Kooning to psychic Edgar Cayce. Later, in rehab, he engagingly fights both his addiction and his emotional detachment as his lover and mother look on. At times, the book dwells a bit too long on philosophical discussion, to the point where the characters seem like mere place holders to make conversational points. But even during these occasional narrative speed bumps, Simon remains an extremely compelling character, and readers will find themselves invested in Simon’s fate. He may be self-destructive, but he’s always trying to adhere to a moral compass—although one that’s been badly damaged by his life experiences. It’s an engaging story throughout, and it’s rarely obvious where Simon will wind up.
A sweeping, unpredictable fictional autobiography.Pub Date: Sept. 9, 2013
ISBN: 978-1477624999
Page Count: 462
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: Sept. 5, 2013
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.
Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958
ISBN: 0385474547
Page Count: 207
Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky
Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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
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