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THE WONDER THAT WAS OURS

A Greek chorus of cockroaches amuses and admonishes in this admirable first novel about the human cost of colonialism.

“Really, though, what did Franz Kafka know about cockroaches?” Not much compared to Hatcher, who makes a group of roaches the narrator of her debut novel.

It isn't necessary to know the history of banana republics or labor movements to follow this bright novel, but it helps. For those who require a refresher course, the cockroaches (speaking in the royal “we”) offer a droll yet painstaking political and social history of a fictitious Caribbean island that runs parallel to political movements throughout history. Thankfully, a cavalcade of characters brings this history to life—most notably the cabbie/bartender Wynston Cleave, known as Professor Cleave by family, friends, and the cockroaches that permeate his taxi. Years earlier, Cleave had the misfortune of picking up a tipsy American heiress who then died in his car. Wrongly imprisoned for her death but now free, he is suspicious when he picks up a bedraggled couple, recently kicked off an American cruise ship. Suspicion soon turns to anxiety when a viral contagion overtakes the ship. A bloated body washed ashore ignites rumors, thoughtless acts, riots, and finally martial law. Hatcher’s training as a historian is evident in this well-woven novel, even if many of the secondary characters are indistinguishable from one another. However, it’s the cockroaches that are the true stars of the show. Sharp-witted, well-read, and with a long view of history, their voice is dignified, erudite, and often funny: “Woe to us, who suffer the curse of stubby little wings, vestigial appendages suitable for neither flying nor fanning ourselves on a hot day (One can hopefully appreciate our love of air conditioning in light of this one regrettable aspect of our anatomy"). It is wise to heed the narrator’s observations, on Hatcher's fictional world as well as political history and human shortcomings.

A Greek chorus of cockroaches amuses and admonishes in this admirable first novel about the human cost of colonialism.

Pub Date: Sept. 4, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-945814-60-0

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Dzanc

Review Posted Online: June 17, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2018

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IF CATS DISAPPEARED FROM THE WORLD

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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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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