Back in Enderby (1968) the hero was himself subjected to a psychic retooling much like Clockwork's Alex: Enderby Poet — turned Hogg and Barman — could only reconstitute himself as Hoggerby, last seen tending bar in Tangier. Between that book and this, he has reverted to his old name and habit of poetizing in the loo, and has crossed paths with some movie people. His screenplay, based on a poem of G.M. Hopkins, becomes a sort of big box-office seat-wetter that gets writers invited to teach in New York. Thus, art imitating life, Enderby's experience and attitudes swing into plumb with Burgess'. Enderby arrives on the Upper West Side, dazed and hyper-lexical in a hand-me-down Edwardian topcoat, grappling kindergartenishly with brand names, reg. U.S. Pat. Off., and is preoccupied now with a long poem about Pelagius, another British innocent in cosmopolis, who argued for reason and free will vs. St. Augustine's decadent predestination. A very good and relevant question which the City throws back at him, in gross forms, from all angles — the fragments of urban collapse are magnetized briefly by hostility to the artist, who is out of it. His open-admissions students of creative writing, in their contempt for the triviality of art, threaten hit inscape (Hopkins); pompous columnists and glandular TV men charge him with abuse of social influence, to which he rises with the intelligibility of a chicken; and finally the last of his many death threats actualizes in the form of a mild suburban wife who has suffered once too often the effects of sublimation. Even dead, Enderby is still alive and whelmingly there. Brilliant in malice, but also, oddest bloody thing, in truth, with even a whiff of tenderness. Enderby has filled out and, like art by God, deserves to live.
Pub Date: Jan. 27, 1974
ISBN: 0070089728
Page Count: 161
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 15, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1974
This large, stately, and intensely powerful new novel by the author of Terms of Endearment and The Last Picture Show is constructed around a cattle drive—an epic journey from dry, hard-drinking south Texas, where a band of retired Texas Rangers has been living idly, to the last outpost and the last days of the old, unsettled West in rough Montana. The time is the 1880s. The characters are larger than life and shimmer: Captain Woodrow Call, who leads the drive, is the American type of an unrelentingly righteous man whose values are puritanical and pioneering and whose orders, which his men inevitably follow, lead, toward the end, to their deaths; talkative Gus McCrae, Call's best friend, learned, lenient, almost magically skilled in a crisis, who is one of those who dies; Newt, the unacknowledged 17-year-old son of Captain Call's one period of self-indulgence and the inheritor of what will become a new and kinder West; and whores, drivers, misplaced sheriffs and scattered settlers, all of whom are drawn sharply, engagingly, movingly. As the rag-tag band drives the cattle 3,000 miles northward, only Call fails to learn that his quest to conquer more new territories in the West is futile—it's a quest that perishes as men are killed by natural menaces that soon will be tamed and by half-starved renegades who soon will die at the hands of those less heroic than themselves. McMurtry shows that it is a quest misplaced in history, in a landscape that is bare of buffalo but still mythic; and it is only one of McMurtry's major accomplishments that he does it without forfeiting a grain of the characters' sympathetic power or of the book's considerable suspense. This is a masterly novel. It will appeal to all lovers of fiction of the first order.
Pub Date: June 1, 1985
ISBN: 068487122X
Page Count: 872
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 1985
IN THE NEWS
SEEN & HEARD
Coelho's placebo has racked up impressive sales in Brazil and Europe. Americans should flock to it like gulls.
Coelho is a Brazilian writer with four books to his credit. Following Diary of a Magus (1992—not reviewed) came this book, published in Brazil in 1988: it's an interdenominational, transcendental, inspirational fable—in other words, a bag of wind.
The story is about a youth empowered to follow his dream. Santiago is an Andalusian shepherd boy who learns through a dream of a treasure in the Egyptian pyramids. An old man, the king of Salem, the first of various spiritual guides, tells the boy that he has discovered his destiny: "to realize one's destiny is a person's only real obligation." So Santiago sells his sheep, sails to Tangier, is tricked out of his money, regains it through hard work, crosses the desert with a caravan, stops at an oasis long enough to fall in love, escapes from warring tribesmen by performing a miracle, reaches the pyramids, and eventually gets both the gold and the girl. Along the way he meets an Englishman who describes the Soul of the World; the desert woman Fatima, who teaches him the Language of the World; and an alchemist who says, "Listen to your heart" A message clings like ivy to every encounter; everyone, but everyone, has to put in their two cents' worth, from the crystal merchant to the camel driver ("concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man"). The absence of characterization and overall blandness suggest authorship by a committee of self-improvement pundits—a far cry from Saint- Exupery's The Little Prince: that flagship of the genre was a genuine charmer because it clearly derived from a quirky, individual sensibility.
Coelho's placebo has racked up impressive sales in Brazil and Europe. Americans should flock to it like gulls.Pub Date: July 1, 1993
ISBN: 0-06-250217-4
Page Count: 192
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 1993
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
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