BIVOUAC

Name: BIVOUAC
Author: Kwame Dawes
ISBN: 978-1-61775-710-5

by Kwame Dawes ‧ RELEASE DATE: April 2, 2019

If Dawes had followed the conventions of the historical novel, it might have made his book more accessible, but it should be...

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An examination of grief and politics in a deftly written novel set in 1980s Jamaica.

Periodically throughout this slim novel, George Ferron Morgan recalls with jaded wit the indignities of being a ghost editorial writer at a second-rate newspaper, working with hacks. The political climate which once leaned left has taken a hard right, instilling a general complacency among the politically disengaged and fueling George’s paranoia as he wonders what punishment will be meted out for his earlier well-known radical activism. Overshadowing his cynicism is his undignified and suspicious death. As if that weren’t enough, his son, Ferron, tortured by grief, annoyance, or his chronic dyspepsia—it’s hard to tell which—is given the task of transporting his father’s body home in the back seat of his Volvo. George’s voice, in sections called "Unpublished notes of George Ferron Morgan," appears between the Ferron-driven chapters in which Ferron, his family, and his father’s friends mourn George and debate the circumstances of his death. The book gets bogged down with Ferron’s dalliances with a trio of women inexplicably willing to put up with his sudden disappearances, dishonesty, and guilt. While the backdrop of Jamaica’s political climate is presumably meant to lend breadth, it is uncomfortably compact, making the novel read like an overlong short story or an underdeveloped historical novel. What rescues the book is Dawes’ poetic ear, as when George recalls his days at Jamaica College with sensory acuity: "I remember...the sense of cold water, which was partly smell and partly touch…the smell of games: linseed oil on cricket bats and the chalky smell of composition balls and then later the smell of leather balls.” A bold surprise occurs late in the book as it switches from prose to a near play-script format, when Ferron returns to an old family home, imagining an encounter with his old man as he sinks into the full spectrum of grief and contemplates ancestral lives passed.

If Dawes had followed the conventions of the historical novel, it might have made his book more accessible, but it should be read if only to savor the author's astonishing prose.

Pub Date: April 2, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-61775-710-5

Page Count: 248

Publisher: Akashic

Review Posted Online: Feb. 3, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2019

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

- BOOK REVIEW
VOICES OF HAITI
by Lisa Armstrong ; Kwame Dawes ; photographed by Andre Lamberton ; developed by Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting

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THE HANDMAID'S TALE

by Margaret Atwood ‧ RELEASE DATE: Feb. 17, 1985

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

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The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.

Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.

Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.

Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985

ISBN: 038549081X

Page Count: -

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin

Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985

Categories:

LITERARY FICTION

- BOOK REVIEW
FOURTEEN DAYS
edited by Margaret Atwood & Douglas Preston

- BOOK REVIEW
OLD BABES IN THE WOOD
by Margaret Atwood

- BOOK REVIEW
BURNING QUESTIONS
by Margaret Atwood

- PERSPECTIVES
Appreciations: Margaret Atwood’s Novel The Handmaid’s Tale Turns 30

- SEEN & HEARD
Nan A. Talese, Legendary Publisher, Is Retiring

- BOOK TO SCREEN
Teasers Drop for ‘Shadow and Bone,’ Other Films

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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.