Slenderly executed work of stunning emotional magnitude.
An elderly man dying of cancer finds redemption through his wife’s love, in this Norwegian novelist’s minimally drawn, quietly detached, very moving third outing (Stella Descending, 2003, etc.).
At 69, Johan Sletten—an ordinary man, twice married, not terribly courageous or dignified, having enjoyed some success during his 40-year-career as an Oslo newspaper journalist, and a recent humiliation for plagiarism—discovers that his cancer is spreading and he has only a few months to live. The “grace” in his life is Mai, his second wife, a pediatrician, 17 years his junior, and utterly devoted to Johan despite his ordinariness. While Johan is haunted by the indignity of his father’s last days, and the prospect of ending the same way, he extracts from Mai the promise to help him at all costs if his illness “should become a burden.” With the expediency of the healthy (and with relief, Johan notes wretchedly), Mai agrees to help him die when the time comes. His last days become a sequence of small, enormously affecting moments of grace: watching Mai quietly reading in evening firelight, remembering times as a child picking strawberries with his Mamma, and meeting his unlovable grown son, Andreas, again after an estrangement of eight years. The time for keeping control comes swiftly, however, and Johan, babbling on morphine, fights all the way up to an ambiguous close: Does Mai give him the lethal injection against his will? Ullmann writes with a wondrously light, deft touch, selecting the most telling, startling detail to sketch her characters, such as Mai’s lying about seemingly insignificant matters, and Johan’s choosing to hide behind a tree than meet confrontation. Ullmann’s detachment is wry rather than cold, and her pared-down portraits result in real characters who carry all the true-life weight of self-doubt and inner purpose.
Slenderly executed work of stunning emotional magnitude.Pub Date: Jan. 27, 2005
ISBN: 1-4000-4285-2
Page Count: 144
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2004
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
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
A modern day fable, with modern implications in a deceiving simplicity, by the author of Dickens. Dali and Others (Reynal & Hitchcock, p. 138), whose critical brilliance is well adapted to this type of satire. This tells of the revolt on a farm, against humans, when the pigs take over the intellectual superiority, training the horses, cows, sheep, etc., into acknowledging their greatness. The first hints come with the reading out of a pig who instigated the building of a windmill, so that the electric power would be theirs, the idea taken over by Napoleon who becomes topman with no maybes about it. Napoleon trains the young puppies to be his guards, dickers with humans, gradually instigates a reign of terror, and breaks the final commandment against any animal walking on two legs. The old faithful followers find themselves no better off for food and work than they were when man ruled them, learn their final disgrace when they see Napoleon and Squealer carousing with their enemies... A basic statement of the evils of dictatorship in that it not only corrupts the leaders, but deadens the intelligence and awareness of those led so that tyranny is inevitable. Mr. Orwell's animals exist in their own right, with a narrative as individual as it is apt in political parody.
Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1946
ISBN: 0452277507
Page Count: 114
Publisher: Harcourt, Brace
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1946
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