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UNDER THE RAINBOW

Name: UNDER THE RAINBOW
Author: Celia Laskey
ISBN: 978-0-525-53616-1

by Celia Laskey ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 3, 2020

Energetic and compelling, a promising first book from a writer to watch.

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An LGBTQ nonprofit takes its services to rural Middle America in this ambitious debut about the slow wheels of social change.

Big Burr, Kansas, is the most homophobic town in America, which is why Acceptance Across America sends a task force to take up residence there for two long years. Laskey's debut novel chronicles the ups and downs of the social experiment, alternating between the queer volunteers who uprooted their lives in big cities and the residents who have, for the most part, minds as small as their Main Street. There's Avery, the straight daughter of AAA's proud lesbian director, caught between wanting to fit in at the local high school and protecting her out-and-proud family; Linda, the grieving mother who finds solace in volunteering for AAA; Gabe, the closeted father and husband who hides his sexuality behind Carhartts and mounted deer heads; and Harley, the nonbinary social media copywriter for AAA whose neighbors retaliate against them with unflinching cruelty. Laskey inhabits each of these characters with skill and grace in a tour de force of first-person narration that illustrates how dangerous isolated, rural places can be for queer people. However, the conceit of Laskey's novel is troubled, and it requires a certain dependence on stereotypes, queer and straight, urban and rural, open-minded and closed, that hampers its success. Laskey is most convincing when she turns stereotypes on their heads, like the blistering rage and sadness rippling beneath teenage Avery's encounters with the homophobic group of teens who egg her mother's house—forcing her to choose sides. Other characters, like the bigoted Christine Peterson, flounder under the weight of bad marriages and righteous mommy blogs and are driven to unexamined acts of hatred and violence. There are unarticulated class and geographical tensions here, too, between the "liberated" coasts and the "backwards" red states. Laskey seems to suggest that Middle America can only change, reluctantly, with a push from the educated coastal elites who escaped its confines. As AAA's pragmatic director tells one beleaguered task force member, "[Liking] these people isn't a necessary part of it. You have to understand them, but that's different."

Energetic and compelling, a promising first book from a writer to watch.

Pub Date: March 3, 2020

ISBN: 978-0-525-53616-1

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Riverhead

Review Posted Online: Dec. 8, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2020

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

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IF CATS DISAPPEARED FROM THE WORLD

by Genki Kawamura ; translated by Eric Selland ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 12, 2019

Jonathan Livingston Kitty, it’s not.

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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

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

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THE SECRET HISTORY

by Donna Tartt ‧ RELEASE DATE: Sept. 16, 1992

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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.