A literary monument or a chore? Shimoni’s heavily experimental book has been likened to J.R. Gaddis’ The Recognitions and...
Interlocking tales of art, power, and the sometimes very odd behavior of creators.
Several rooms make up the landscape of Israeli writer and editor Shimoni’s long novel, which itself is made up of three pieces. The first and by far the longest, "The Lamp," is an existential detective story of sorts: on a military base, a unit charged with making training films records a poor fellow who has caught on fire, “clusters of sparks spread into the night, flying everywhere, ascending and gliding.” Enter a police investigator, who, over hundreds of pages, gets warmer and colder in solving the case, just as a camera frames a scene in close-up and then wide angle. That this is a play within a play is suggested by various subtle directions: here the director of the training film views the investigator “from a bird's eye view, from the back of a genial, fat-bellied wild goose,” even as the investigator looks at the director straight on, the master sergeant looks at the investigator “from the height of treetops, from which apples peek out with blushing faces,” and a lizard on the ceiling looks down at the investigator’s “sweaty collar and the sweat stain on his back.” The second section, "The Drawer," again with shifting POVs, describes a student who attempts to re-create a crucifixion scene from Renaissance art with human actors in a microcosmic “room in which a bloodied body is laid and bloats until filling it entirely.” The third, "The Throne," a short fable, helps explain why it is that a black ant should be such an object of fascination for the first person we meet in the book. Shimoni goes long and takes his time—and ours—in building a story whose overarching message seems to be that the world is a strange and ugly place from which only art can save us, even if art can sometimes be a strange and ugly enterprise itself.
A literary monument or a chore? Shimoni’s heavily experimental book has been likened to J.R. Gaddis’ The Recognitions and Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow, but it lacks their depth and humanity and shares with them mostly only their length.Pub Date: Feb. 12, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-62897-133-0
Page Count: 596
Publisher: Dalkey Archive
Review Posted Online: Dec. 8, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2015
BOOK REVIEW
The story's very ambiguity steadily feeds its mysteriousness and power, and Danielewski's mastery of postmodernist and...
An amazingly intricate and ambitious first novel - ten years in the making - that puts an engrossing new spin on the traditional haunted-house tale.
Texts within texts, preceded by intriguing introductory material and followed by 150 pages of appendices and related "documents" and photographs, tell the story of a mysterious old house in a Virginia suburb inhabited by esteemed photographer-filmmaker Will Navidson, his companion Karen Green (an ex-fashion model), and their young children Daisy and Chad. The record of their experiences therein is preserved in Will's film The Davidson Record - which is the subject of an unpublished manuscript left behind by a (possibly insane) old man, Frank Zampano - which falls into the possession of Johnny Truant, a drifter who has survived an abusive childhood and the perverse possessiveness of his mad mother (who is institutionalized). As Johnny reads Zampano's manuscript, he adds his own (autobiographical) annotations to the scholarly ones that already adorn and clutter the text (a trick perhaps influenced by David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest) - and begins experiencing panic attacks and episodes of disorientation that echo with ominous precision the content of Davidson's film (their house's interior proves, "impossibly," to be larger than its exterior; previously unnoticed doors and corridors extend inward inexplicably, and swallow up or traumatize all who dare to "explore" their recesses). Danielewski skillfully manipulates the reader's expectations and fears, employing ingeniously skewed typography, and throwing out hints that the house's apparent malevolence may be related to the history of the Jamestown colony, or to Davidson's Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph of a dying Vietnamese child stalked by a waiting vulture. Or, as "some critics [have suggested,] the house's mutations reflect the psychology of anyone who enters it."
The story's very ambiguity steadily feeds its mysteriousness and power, and Danielewski's mastery of postmodernist and cinema-derived rhetoric up the ante continuously, and stunningly. One of the most impressive excursions into the supernatural in many a year.Pub Date: March 6, 2000
ISBN: 0-375-70376-4
Page Count: 704
Publisher: Pantheon
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2000
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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