An eye-popping historical curiosity plumbing the depths of domestic dysfunction.
Rage, abuse, and suffering characterize three generations of a Russian family.
Born in 1819, herself the child of neglectful parents, Panaeva was 27 when she wrote this novel, which was suppressed by the censor for its cynicism and “undermining of parental power.” It was published under a pseudonym in a limited edition in 1848, and Panaeva went on to write numerous works of fiction and a memoir. She died in 1893. The novel was finally published under her own name in 1927 and joined what the book’s introduction calls the “canon of domestic violence fiction.” Short, breathless, tinged with humor, the bookis a horror show, a litany of cruelty, anger, and violence inflicted primarily, but not exclusively, on the eight children of a large, turbulent Saint Petersburg family. The father keeps “the same malicious calm whether he was plunging a fork into the dog’s back or throwing a plate at his wife.” The wife seems devoid of any shred of sympathy or love for her offspring, especially her daughters, as they endure beatings and starvations. Yet the narrator, Natasha, regards herself as happy and free until the age of 10. Then things go from bad to even worse, after a sadistic governess is hired and given complete control over her victims. When she finally leaves, the children are scattered among different households and teachers, one to a brute whose physical torment is pure torture. Even changes of scene—with their kindly grandmother, or on a summer trip to a seaside dacha—rarely offer much respite from conflict and shame. As the children grow up, two marry and escape, but tragedy befalls another. The bizarre, comfortless mood of Panaeva’s parable hangs in the air as a farewell is bid to “the house where I had shed so many tears.”
An eye-popping historical curiosity plumbing the depths of domestic dysfunction.Pub Date: Oct. 8, 2024
ISBN: 9780231213196
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Columbia Univ.
Review Posted Online: Aug. 30, 2024
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2024
Uneven but fitfully amusing.
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
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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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