Mature and engrossing fiction, from one of Canada’s best new writers.
A keen sensitivity to the frailty of the physical body—and to the inescapable fact of mortality—subtly enriches this emotionally compelling tale by the Winnipeg author (A Year of Lesser, 1997, etc.).
In the powerful opening sequence, Paul Unger, a middle-aged furniture-store owner living in suburban comfort in the Manitoba town of Furst, receives an early morning visit from a constable who informs him that his teenaged son Stephen has been found dead in a neighboring farmer’s field. Stricken by grief and guilt (the reason for which is soon revealed), Unger goes through the motions of celebrating his daughter’s wedding, then leaves his wife Lise and retreats to his remote northern “bee farm”—and to the calming influence of the natural world’s dependably repetitive rhythms and rituals. He’s joined thereafter by Stephen’s girlfriend Nicole and the two-year-old boy, named Sky, whom she claims is Unger’s grandson. Bergen presents the process of Unger’s healing and the actions preceding it in efficient piecemeal fashion, circling around the central fact of Stephen’s death, moving back and forth in time, echoing the circumstances of Unger’s loss and the several ways in which it changes him. This moving story avoids monotony because its characters are drawn with meticulous care: the wanton Nicole impresses with her tough-minded determination to grasp a better life; Sky is quite charmingly portrayed; and pragmatic Lise, seeking elsewhere the intimacy her husband can no longer give her, is a thoroughly believable “strong woman” who has learned how to conceal her weaknesses. Numerous flashback sequences build an overwhelming impression of irresolvable distance and conflict (heated conversations between Unger and the rebellious Stephen are particularly frank and searing), and the novel succeeds brilliantly in showing how people who believe they’re solving problems and healing wounds are instead helplessly drifting away from one another.
Mature and engrossing fiction, from one of Canada’s best new writers.Pub Date: May 8, 2002
ISBN: 0-7432-2925-8
Page Count: 240
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2002
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
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
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