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FREE BURNING

Gritty, lyrical, intense.

An Everyman turns to dealing drugs—and pitches headlong downward.

Tommie Simms is desperate. Laid off from his job at Global Mutual IndemCorp, he’s torn from the sanctuary of his 83rd-floor office and returned to the Four Corners, a Chicago neighborhood where “they’ve got as many cardboard box-tops covering window holes as they’ve got glass.” Ojikutu (47th Street Black, 2003) renders the desperation palpable—of Tommie’s mother, on Step Five of her 12-step program, sick with worry; Tommie’s wife, Tarsha; and baby girl a stone’s throw from homelessness. A former golden boy who’d made it out of the ghetto to Southern Illinois University, Tommie can’t bear his defaulted credit cards and his family’s disappointment. His cousin, Remi, offers a way out: nickel bags of pot to sell. Tarsha turns a blind eye, and for a while, Tommie prospers, as feelings of guilt gnaw at his soul. He’s crossed over, after all—from the dream of suit-and-tie deliverance to a hard-knock nightmare, where hustlers parade the avenue oozing menace. Will he become, then, his own shadow-self? Officer Weidman has his eye on him, itching to bring down the upstart, too well-spoken for the Corners, too confident, uppity. Sure enough, Tommie gets busted—and a teasing, violent mano-a-mano begins between the fallen angel and the vengeful, devilish cop. Ojikutu’s story is tough and assured. What truly dazzles, though, is the language, a cross between James Baldwin’s soulful song and the nightmare poetry of Louis-Ferdinand Céline. The author’s voice is especially riveting when discussing loss and Tommie’s “mother who left me pinned to the window glass, watching trains and folks running in vain and waiting for some sign to point out love’s return.”

Gritty, lyrical, intense.

Pub Date: Oct. 3, 2006

ISBN: 1-4000-8289-7

Page Count: 400

Publisher: Three Rivers/Crown

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2006

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THE HANDMAID'S TALE

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

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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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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