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NEONS

Name: NEONS
Author: Denis Belloc
ISBN: 0-87923-869-0

by Denis Belloc ‧ RELEASE DATE: May 15, 1991

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French writer Belloc's first novela slender evocation of a young homosexual hustler's life in 1960's Parisis minimalism to a fault: the stark tone here tends to keep the promiscuous episodes of sex and sexual violence from becoming too graphic. Narrator ``Denis'' (``I live in enormous loneliness'') is a neglected and abused child. His father, a drunk, was killed in 1951 in a sideshow boxing match, and Denis's motherafter sending him for a time to an old woman in the countrymarries a brick-mason and keeps Denis, though there isn't much affection (``Christmas, but without any toys, just one Christmas tangerine''). Meanwhile, Denis cares for two things: his painting and his brother Alain. The stepfather (``the Spaniard'') abuses Denis, whose mother, siding with her husband, decides ``he's turning into a real devil.'' Denis then begins to find solace in public restrooms, and, soon enough, he's living a life of prostitution and petty crime. There are trips to Holland, car-stealing episodes, portraits of lovers and fellow underworld lurkers, including ex-cons, transvestites, and a variety of johns. Finally, there's a stint in prison. By age 20, Denis has turned into a hardened ex-con, a self-described ``piece of trash.'' His mother, who works in an old folks' home, has begun to paint, and, by the close, Denis (``comatose'' after a gang-rape) may also return to paintingbut there's little to salvage the bleak lives here, certainly no salvation, save a sardonic black humor that's kept under strict control. All of this is written in a terse hard-boiled manner straight out of a pulp novela style appropriate for a dispatch about a life from which all sweetness has been blanched out.

Pub Date: May 15, 1991

ISBN: 0-87923-869-0

Page Count: 102

Publisher: Godine

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 1991

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.