A psychologically astute, skillful, engrossing and satisfying novel.
A Detroit boy is sent to stay with his grandparents in rural 1950s Appalachia in this debut literary novel with touches of magical realism.
Nine-year-old Orbie Ray is “a handful” according to his stepfather, Victor. That’s why he has to stay with his grandparents in Kentucky while the rest of the family drives down to Florida, where Victor has a job opportunity. Everything in Harlan’s Crossroads is so different from Detroit—not just the bluegrass and tobacco farms, but also the race relations. Orbie grew up believing that “colored” kids jumped you in the schoolyard and that a black man caused the accident that killed his father. However, in Kentucky, he notices that white folks are often scarier—such as Old Man Harlan, who charges too much at his store, or Bird Pruitt, Harlan’s disturbing hunchback cousin. He also meets Moses Mashbone, a half Choctaw, half black snake handler and medicine man who saved Granpaw’s life; as a result, Granny won’t allow Orbie to say the N-word. Orbie can’t find anyone to play with, so he overcomes his fears and makes friends with Willis, a “little colored boy Moses takes care of.” Willis has a stutter and clubfoot, but he also sings and draws pictures. The story of how Victor courted Orbie’s mother unfolds in flashback, alternating with scenes of Orbie’s story, as he finds himself confronting powerful forces—race, family, nature and even something supernatural. In his debut novel, Owens captures his characters’ folksy Appalachian diction without overdoing it and subtly reveals character through dialogue and description. He also renders a child’s viewpoint with great psychological sensitivity: “I didn’t like the way [Victor] was all the time trying to be on my mind. It was too close together somehow—like when Momma started talking about Jesus and wouldn’t shut up.” Moses and Willis are sometimes overly idealized, and readers may wish that the novel better explored the downsides of snake-handling churches. Overall, however, readers will find this an impressive debut.
A psychologically astute, skillful, engrossing and satisfying novel.Pub Date: Nov. 15, 2012
ISBN: 978-1475084498
Page Count: 324
Publisher: Blind Sight Publications
Review Posted Online: Dec. 6, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2014
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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
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SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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