A finely conceived, absorbing and powerful book.
A complex parable of unification and division, based on the myth of the god Shiva and his consort Parvati, is subtly constructed in this ambitious successor to Suri’s fine first novel, The Death of Vishnu (2001).
Suri tells the story of a woman’s life in modern India after independence from Great Britain. She is Meera Sawhney, who grows up in a well-to-do family dominated by her imperious father (who owns a prosperous publishing company), and finds her liberation in marriage to handsome, self-indulgent pop singer Dev Arora. But Meera’s freedom is no more stable than that of her country, which she, and we, experience in the wake of partition from Pakistan, through food riots and continuing outbreaks of Hindu vs. Muslim violence, the embattled careers of Mohandas Gandhi and Prime Minister Indira Gandhi (who becomes India’s political leader, following the path trod by her father Jawaharlal Nehru)—into the early 1980s, with the shadow of ongoing conflict and anarchy expanding. Meera’s identification with India is predictable, but the novel gains impressive force from its searching characterizations: of ever hopeful, continually underachieving Dev; his brother Arya, an intolerant Hindu extremist whose hatred of Muslims is no less inflammatory than are his sexual attentions to Meera; her demanding father (“Paji”), neither as loving nor as much a liberal intellectual as he pretends and yearns to be; and the sisterhood of friends and family who share Meera’s struggles, bond with her and complicate her marriage and motherhood. But the story’s core is Meera’s smothering, heated, virtually erotic love for her only child, Ashvin, the beloved son whose name evokes those of the deities Shiva and Vishnu, and whose need for her embraces provokes Meera to envision a “parallel universe.” In it, rather than be bound by protective constraints of family relationship, they will be free to “be one.” Like India’s dream of unity, this cannot be, and Meera pays the price for her overreaching.
A finely conceived, absorbing and powerful book.Pub Date: Feb. 1, 2008
ISBN: 978-0-393-06569-5
Page Count: 448
Publisher: Norton
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2007
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
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
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
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
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