As always with Rutherfurd, the narrative sweep is subordinated to the history place—agreeably so. If you’ve a taste for...
Rutherfurd (The Forest, 2000, etc.) takes on Ireland in his latest historical doorstopper, covering (in this first of two volumes) roughly a thousand years—from the tribal period antedating Christianity to the Tudor conquest under Henry VIII.
The author goes back pretty far, starting near the end of the pagan period in a.d. 430. Dierdre, the daughter of Fergus the Chieftain (and great-granddaughter of the famous Fergus the Warrior) has been betrothed to the elderly High King of Ireland, even though she’s in love with the aspiring Druid priest Conall. Fearful of offending the High King (and thus bringing his wrath down upon her father) by refusing his hand, she’s nevertheless prompted to run away and elope with Conall after meeting the High King’s first Queen, who solemnly promises to kill Dierdre if she marries her husband. That pretty much sets the tone of Irish domestic and foreign relations for the rest of the volume, which offers a rich feast of the squabbles, betrayals, usurpations, conquests, rebellions, massacres, and petty slights (real and imagined) that have been as much a staple of Irish life as the potato. Rutherfurd finds room in his canvas for all the big players: St. Patrick (who converts Dierdre and her family, along with most everybody else), the Viking marauders who preyed on the island for centuries (as well as Brian Boru, who managed to defeat them), Strongbow (who came to serve an Irish king but handed his domains over to an English one), and the various English monarchs from Henry II to Henry VIII (who tried with little success to make the Irish better Catholics until they became Protestants themselves and began to harass them in a different direction).
As always with Rutherfurd, the narrative sweep is subordinated to the history place—agreeably so. If you’ve a taste for Ireland, this will be your cup of tea—but Celtophobes may ask to be excused before they even get to the second course.Pub Date: March 2, 2004
ISBN: 0-385-50286-9
Page Count: 752
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2004
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.
Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.
In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3
Page Count: 448
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014
BOOK TO SCREEN
SEEN & HEARD
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
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