Best suited for those with a high tolerance for whimsy and literary play.
An antic novel assembled from connected metafictional stories that stretch metaphors to their breaking points and beyond.
The 17 stories, several of which have been published earlier in one form or another, feature as their narrator a hapless antihero who shares a name with the author. This Christopher Boucher (only slightly to be confused with the author of Golden Delicious, 2016), a writer who lives in the fictional town of Coolidge, Massachusetts, has either been kicked out by his wife, Liz, or is on the point of being so. He encounters one odd situation after another, generally coping with them less than gracefully. In the title story, for example, a giant face floats through the sky following the narrator until his friend shoots it and stuffs it into an old storage unit. In “Call and Response,” Chris gets a job at a City Hall prayer switchboard, where he's assigned to zap the majority of the prayers that come in, prayers the size of a Volkswagen or a refrigerator, until they eventually threaten to physically crush him. Often, the stories morph words into physical objects. “The Language Zoo” imagines a place with “strange, slithering adjectives, followed by propositions hanging high in their cages or burrowing low in hollowed-out logs.” When a stampede begins, sentences like “I’m so sad and lonely” and “How do I live without love?” break free only to rear their heads in the white spaces of other stories in the volume. The novel's primary problem is that its chapters are all basically variations on a theme. Though the final chapter, “The Unloveables,” offers a bit of hope and a sense of closure, those that precede it are more or less interchangeable.
Best suited for those with a high tolerance for whimsy and literary play.Pub Date: June 18, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-61219-757-9
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Melville House
Review Posted Online: April 27, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
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.
Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992
ISBN: 1400031702
Page Count: 592
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
A modern day fable, with modern implications in a deceiving simplicity, by the author of Dickens. Dali and Others (Reynal & Hitchcock, p. 138), whose critical brilliance is well adapted to this type of satire. This tells of the revolt on a farm, against humans, when the pigs take over the intellectual superiority, training the horses, cows, sheep, etc., into acknowledging their greatness. The first hints come with the reading out of a pig who instigated the building of a windmill, so that the electric power would be theirs, the idea taken over by Napoleon who becomes topman with no maybes about it. Napoleon trains the young puppies to be his guards, dickers with humans, gradually instigates a reign of terror, and breaks the final commandment against any animal walking on two legs. The old faithful followers find themselves no better off for food and work than they were when man ruled them, learn their final disgrace when they see Napoleon and Squealer carousing with their enemies... A basic statement of the evils of dictatorship in that it not only corrupts the leaders, but deadens the intelligence and awareness of those led so that tyranny is inevitable. Mr. Orwell's animals exist in their own right, with a narrative as individual as it is apt in political parody.
Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1946
ISBN: 0452277507
Page Count: 114
Publisher: Harcourt, Brace
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1946
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