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THE TATTOO ARTIST

Somewhat far-fetched and slender, but unique and weirdly imaginative.

Ciment (Teeth of the Dog, 1999, etc.) explores the long, strange life of a New Yorker who moves from Dada art to the art of tattooing.

Young Sara Rabinowitz, freethinking daughter of Orthodox Jewish immigrants to New York’s Lower East Side, finds work as a seamstress in the Ladies Waist Makers’ Union and spends her leisure time as a bohemian in pre-WWI Greenwich Village. Sara has a fiery affair with banker’s-son-turned-artist/revolutionary Philip Ehrenreich, who introduce her to Marxism and calls her “America’s great avant-garde hope.” The Depression, however, is hard on the couple, and Philip accepts a commission from a rich Swiss industrialist to scare up primitive art on the South Sea island of Ta’un’uu. Just before the outbreak of WWII, the Ehrenreichs are dumped on the island, where they look pretty ridiculous dressed in finery and offering cheap trinkets for trade. The natives ignore them until a terrible lightning storm kills several of the tribe; Philip and Sara are culpable, the locals conclude, and must endure retribution by having their faces tattooed. Thus begins Sara’s grisly and eventually liberating transformation, from a being whose scarred face “can no longer convey any sentiments of her own” to a revered elder tattoo artist whose craft brings to the surface the true self. Sara roughs it on the island for 30 years and might have forgotten New York altogether if a crew from Life magazine hadn’t arrived on the beach one day. A curious work that moves back and forth in time and place.

Somewhat far-fetched and slender, but unique and weirdly imaginative.

Pub Date: Aug. 23, 2005

ISBN: 0-375-42325-7

Page Count: 224

Publisher: Pantheon

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2005

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HUMAN ACTS

A fiercely written, deeply upsetting, and beautifully human novel.

The brutal murder of a 15-year-old boy during the 1980 Gwangju Uprising becomes the connective tissue between the isolated characters of this emotionally harrowing novel.

In May 1980, student demonstrations ignited a popular uprising in the South Korean city of Gwangju. The police and military responded with ruthless violence, and Han (The Vegetarian, 2015) begins her novel in the middle of a disorienting atmosphere of human-inflicted horror. While searching for a friend, a young boy named Dong-ho joins a team of volunteers who look after the bodies of demonstrators who were killed. He keeps a ledger with details on each corpse, pins a number to its chest, and keeps candles lit beside the ones with no family to grieve beside them. The details of this world seep off the page in a series of sickening but precisely composed images. Han’s evocation of savagery and grief is shockingly sensory and visceral but never approximate or unrestrained. Each character’s voice seems to ring in its own space, and though they are all connected by Dong-ho’s experiences in Gwangju, they exist in an uncanny isolation. The novel is divided into seven parts: six acts that each focus on a different character and an epilogue that pulls in the author herself. The parts shift in time from 1980 to 2013 and in point of view, making the reader intimate or complicit to different degrees with the voice of a dead person, a survivor of torture, a mother suffering from regret and memory. Han explores the sprawling trauma of political brutality with impressive nuance and the piercing emotional truth that comes with masterful fiction. In her epilogue she writes, “Soundlessly, and without fuss, some tender thing deep inside me broke.” Her novel is likely to provoke an echo of that moment in its readers.

A fiercely written, deeply upsetting, and beautifully human novel.

Pub Date: Jan. 17, 2017

ISBN: 978-1-101-90672-9

Page Count: 224

Publisher: Hogarth

Review Posted Online: Oct. 4, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2016

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THE SECRET HISTORY

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

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