With quiet understatement, Bronsky offers us a glimpse of life in the radioactive abyss.
A quiet novel about a woman who returns home after some time away—not unusual in itself, perhaps, but it is when the home she returns to is in Chernobyl.
As one might expect, life is both quiet and grim in Chernobyl (or Tschernowo, as it's referred to by the Russian narrator, who's also the title character). Baba Dunja is recognized as one of the pioneers of the region, for she is one of only two current residents who lived in Chernobyl “before the reactor” and has returned to make some kind of life for herself, though it’s a grim one. Not even half the houses are inhabited on the main road, and everyone not from the region—primarily those residents of the nearest town, Malyschi—shuns everyone from Chernobyl, fearing they’ll be contaminated by radiation. She and her neighbors occupy themselves with getting food and just getting through the day. Baba Dunja has a daughter, Irina, a medical doctor in Germany, as well as a granddaughter whom she has never met. Mother and daughter have a desultory correspondence, and Irina very much wants Baba Dunja to leave the “death zone.” And while Baba Dunja has never met her granddaughter, she has a picture and occasional glimpses of her life through Irina’s letters. By the end of the story we learn that the image of her family Baba Dunja has been encouraged to create is out of kilter with reality. The central event in the narrative is the death of a man who comes to Chernobyl with his healthy daughter to get revenge on his wife—and the townspeople, especially Baba Dunja, recognize how foolish it is to undertake such a venture with such a motivation.
With quiet understatement, Bronsky offers us a glimpse of life in the radioactive abyss.Pub Date: June 7, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-60945-333-6
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Europa Editions
Review Posted Online: April 12, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2016
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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
A modern day fable, with modern implications in a deceiving simplicity, by the author of Dickens. Dali and Others (Reynal & Hitchcock, p. 138), whose critical brilliance is well adapted to this type of satire. This tells of the revolt on a farm, against humans, when the pigs take over the intellectual superiority, training the horses, cows, sheep, etc., into acknowledging their greatness. The first hints come with the reading out of a pig who instigated the building of a windmill, so that the electric power would be theirs, the idea taken over by Napoleon who becomes topman with no maybes about it. Napoleon trains the young puppies to be his guards, dickers with humans, gradually instigates a reign of terror, and breaks the final commandment against any animal walking on two legs. The old faithful followers find themselves no better off for food and work than they were when man ruled them, learn their final disgrace when they see Napoleon and Squealer carousing with their enemies... A basic statement of the evils of dictatorship in that it not only corrupts the leaders, but deadens the intelligence and awareness of those led so that tyranny is inevitable. Mr. Orwell's animals exist in their own right, with a narrative as individual as it is apt in political parody.
Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1946
ISBN: 0452277507
Page Count: 114
Publisher: Harcourt, Brace
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1946
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