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SISTER SNAKE

Slithers gleefully around hot-button issues such as gender politics and racism without a whiff of didacticism.

A darkly comic contemporary fairy tale about estranged sisters who happen to have been born snakes.

The story riffs on the ancient Chinese “Legend of the White Snake,” in which a krait and a viper made a pact to be sisters forever. The krait yearned to become human, so the viper, though happy in her skin, agreed to transform too. For 800 years they practiced Taoist “self-cultivation” until they became immortal human women named Su and Emerald. “Self-cultivation? How Goop of you,” Emerald’s 21st-century best friend quips, capturing the book’s prevailing tone of satiric, campy waggishness. In the present day, Emerald ekes out a sketchy bohemian existence in Brooklyn financed by men she meets on a sugar daddy app. A millionaire for 200 years, Su lives in Singapore, married to an ambitious official in the city-state’s government. Vivid physical and sociological descriptions bring both cities to realistic as well as symbolic life. Unruly New York represents Emerald’s embrace of individualism and impetuous spontaneity, while buttoned-down Singapore parallels the value Su places on assimilation and safety. Fully realized as complicated women, the sisters share a protective love/hate relationship all female siblings will recognize. But these sisters are also snakes, and evidently green vipers are impulsive but less deadly than white kraits, which bite infrequently but are “ruthless” with more poisonous venom. The sisters’ diametrically opposed approaches to being human become clear during Su’s lethal trip to New York, followed by Emerald’s disastrous visit to Singapore. The obvious dichotomy between their views and values, coupled with reptilian amorality, set off a series of events ranging from graphically violent and deeply tragic to romantically bittersweet and deliberately, eloquently silly.

Slithers gleefully around hot-button issues such as gender politics and racism without a whiff of didacticism.

Pub Date: Dec. 3, 2024

ISBN: 9780063355064

Page Count: 272

Publisher: Ecco/HarperCollins

Review Posted Online: Aug. 30, 2024

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2024

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THE WEDDING PEOPLE

Uneven but fitfully amusing.

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Betrayed by her husband, a severely depressed young woman gets drawn into the over-the-top festivities at a lavish wedding.

Phoebe Stone, who teaches English literature at a St. Louis college, is plotting her own demise. Her husband, Matt, has left her for another woman, and Phoebe is taking it hard. Indeed, she's determined just where and how she will end it all: at an oceanfront hotel in Newport, where she will lie on a king-sized canopy bed and take a bottle of her cat’s painkillers. At the hotel, Phoebe meets bride-to-be Lila, a headstrong rich girl presiding over her own extravagant six-day wedding celebration. Lila thought she had booked every room in the hotel, and learning of Phoebe's suicidal intentions, she forbids this stray guest from disrupting the nuptials: “No. You definitely can’t kill yourself. This is my wedding week.” After the punchy opening, a grim flashback to the meltdown of Phoebe's marriage temporarily darkens the mood, but things pick up when spoiled Lila interrupts Phoebe's preparations and sweeps her up in the wedding juggernaut. The slide from earnest drama to broad farce is somewhat jarring, but from this point on, Espach crafts an enjoyable—if overstuffed—comedy of manners. When the original maid of honor drops out, Phoebe is persuaded, against her better judgment, to take her place. There’s some fun to be had here: The wedding party—including groom-to-be Gary, a widower, and his 11-year-old daughter—takes surfing lessons; the women in the group have a session with a Sex Woman. But it all goes on too long, and the humor can seem forced, reaching a low point when someone has sex with the vintage wedding car (you don’t want to know the details). Later, when two characters have a meet-cute in a hot tub, readers will guess exactly how the marriage plot resolves.

Uneven but fitfully amusing.

Pub Date: July 30, 2024

ISBN: 9781250899576

Page Count: 384

Publisher: Henry Holt

Review Posted Online: Sept. 13, 2024

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THE HANDMAID'S TALE

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

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The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.

Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985

ISBN: 038549081X

Page Count: -

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin

Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985

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