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INVESTIGATIONS OF A DOG

AND OTHER CREATURES

Beguiling, quirky stories perfectly in keeping with the rest of Kafka’s work; often troubling but sometimes delightful.

A freshly translated collection of posthumously published work by the great master of existential angst and insectoidal transformation.

Kafka did not live long, but he produced an impressive body of work, most of it written in the dark, quiet hours after midnight. Perhaps that accounts for its preternatural gloom, for no one ever cracks a smile in a Kafka story. As translator Hofmann puts it, just right, Kafka “devised for himself a life that was largely disagreeable, inflexible and inescapable, and tried to make it productive.” He succeeded on all counts. Here, a number of odd themes emerge that perhaps connect to Kafka’s penumbral ways: at times, for instance, the narrator holds some sort of night job that puts him in oblique contact with the bureaucrats and bosses who rule the day, as in “New Lamps,” in which an official at company headquarters promises a safety-minded miner better oil lamps by which to work and instructs him to tell his fellow workers, “We won’t rest until we’ve converted your mineshaft into a drawing room.” Other stories illustrate Kafka’s interest in allegories and fables, especially with an Asian coloring, as with “Building the Great Wall of China,” a sketch that speaks of the power of empire to overwhelm the individual, even though the people “are where it ultimately draws its support.” As with the title story, many of Kafka’s stories involve animals. There, the dogs in question revel in a kind of “dogdom” or “dogness” hard won by evolving from their ancestors: “Our generation may be lost,” the narrator tells us, “but it is more innocent than its predecessors.” Just so, a character in another story has “taken a great interest in Elberfeld horses,” that is, horses trained to think like humans—and it’s a short step from there to Gregor Samsa.

Beguiling, quirky stories perfectly in keeping with the rest of Kafka’s work; often troubling but sometimes delightful.

Pub Date: May 23, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-8112-2689-9

Page Count: 224

Publisher: New Directions

Review Posted Online: March 6, 2017

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2017

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THE SECRET HISTORY

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

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  • New York Times Bestseller


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THE TESTAMENTS

Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.

Awards & Accolades

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  • New York Times Bestseller


  • Booker Prize Winner

Atwood goes back to Gilead.

The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.

Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.

Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019

ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1

Page Count: 432

Publisher: Nan A. Talese

Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019

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