In the latest from McCourt (Mawdrew Czgowchwz, 1975; Kate Wayfaring in ``Avenged'', 1984), the first story of two—``I Go Back to the Mais Oui''—acts as an overture for its much longer successor. Danny Delancey, a gay New York performance-artist, recalls the camp-wild days of downtown artistic gay culture before AIDS: the bars, baths, cults (for Judy G. and Callas, for McCourt's own original Kate Wayfaring and Mawdrew Czgowchwz), and the Hamptons. But it is the long soliloquized novella—``A Chance to Talk''—where everything becomes truly personalized, from the lips of Odette O'Doyle, a renowned drag-queen ballerina newly arrived from Europe and taking the train out to the South Fork in the company of Danny. Nothing goes past or surprises Odette: he/she's seen it and done it all; and McCourt lets his character talk about St. Augustine, de Kooning, the unsafe-sex young (``They're still at it, I thought, like Carolina snake-handling Baptists, besotted in their religion exactly like believers in the thoroughly discredited appendix to the Gospel of Mark: believing they can beguile the cobra and drink any deadly thing and it shall not harm them, all because they are wearing the talisman: not ankh, and not the cross, but the pink triangle''); poets like John Ashbery, James Merrill, and James Schuyler (here called ``the Skylark''); painters and transvestites and scandals. Synoptic like a gospel itself (though the news is hardly glad)—Odette's recitations are brilliant, touching, funny, self-deprecating: flamboyance warmed with wisdom. McCourt is no easy writer, but his way with disorder and sorrow—early and late- -is not to be missed.
Pub Date: May 2, 1993
ISBN: 0-679-41266-2
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 1993
A first novel, this is also a first person account of Scout's (Jean Louise) recall of the years that led to the ending of a mystery, the breaking of her brother Jem's elbow, the death of her father's enemy — and the close of childhood years. A widower, Atticus raises his children with legal dispassion and paternal intelligence, and is ably abetted by Calpurnia, the colored cook, while the Alabama town of Maycomb, in the 1930's, remains aloof to their divergence from its tribal patterns. Scout and Jem, with their summer-time companion, Dill, find their paths free from interference — but not from dangers; their curiosity about the imprisoned Boo, whose miserable past is incorporated in their play, results in a tentative friendliness; their fears of Atticus' lack of distinction is dissipated when he shoots a mad dog; his defense of a Negro accused of raping a white girl, Mayella Ewell, is followed with avid interest and turns the rabble whites against him. Scout is the means of averting an attack on Atticus but when he loses the case it is Boo who saves Jem and Scout by killing Mayella's father when he attempts to murder them. The shadows of a beginning for black-white understanding, the persistent fight that Scout carries on against school, Jem's emergence into adulthood, Calpurnia's quiet power, and all the incidents touching on the children's "growing outward" have an attractive starchiness that keeps this southern picture pert and provocative. There is much advance interest in this book; it has been selected by the Literary Guild and Reader's Digest; it should win many friends.
Pub Date: July 11, 1960
ISBN: 0060935464
Page Count: 323
Publisher: Lippincott
Review Posted Online: Oct. 7, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1960
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
The phrase “tour de force” could have been invented for this audacious novel.
Four men who meet as college roommates move to New York and spend the next three decades gaining renown in their professions—as an architect, painter, actor and lawyer—and struggling with demons in their intertwined personal lives.
Yanagihara (The People in the Trees, 2013) takes the still-bold leap of writing about characters who don’t share her background; in addition to being male, JB is African-American, Malcolm has a black father and white mother, Willem is white, and “Jude’s race was undetermined”—deserted at birth, he was raised in a monastery and had an unspeakably traumatic childhood that’s revealed slowly over the course of the book. Two of them are gay, one straight and one bisexual. There isn’t a single significant female character, and for a long novel, there isn’t much plot. There aren’t even many markers of what’s happening in the outside world; Jude moves to a loft in SoHo as a young man, but we don’t see the neighborhood change from gritty artists’ enclave to glitzy tourist destination. What we get instead is an intensely interior look at the friends’ psyches and relationships, and it’s utterly enthralling. The four men think about work and creativity and success and failure; they cook for each other, compete with each other and jostle for each other’s affection. JB bases his entire artistic career on painting portraits of his friends, while Malcolm takes care of them by designing their apartments and houses. When Jude, as an adult, is adopted by his favorite Harvard law professor, his friends join him for Thanksgiving in Cambridge every year. And when Willem becomes a movie star, they all bask in his glow. Eventually, the tone darkens and the story narrows to focus on Jude as the pain of his past cuts deep into his carefully constructed life.
The phrase “tour de force” could have been invented for this audacious novel.Pub Date: March 10, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-385-53925-8
Page Count: 720
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: Dec. 21, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2015
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
PROFILES
PERSPECTIVES
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