A book that shocks one to the fibre of one's being. Did it have to be written? Or if written published? In comparison the shock techniques of The Naked and the Dead and From Here to Eternity seem pallid. At least there was humorous relief, there were redeeming characteristics in some of the men, there were evidences of humanity. In The Dark Arena the picture of occupation forces, military and civilian, seems to indicate that all are tarred with the brush of self seeking, cruelty, barbarity, indifference to human suffering, the vices of the conquerors, the cupidity of the thwarted, the sadism of those whom suffering has scarred. The central figure, Mosca, comes home to a rejoicing family, to the fiances who had waited out his years of war. He turns against them, taking pleasure in hurting them — and goes back to Germany, in a civilian post. Back, too, to Hella, the German girl who had born and lost his child. He takes her on again, but even when he could apply for marriage papers, puts it off. They have another child- and still the papers are not ready. This time an officer he had insulted is holding them up. Mosca cushions his pay with black market operations, battening on the fears of the Germans. But when he feels his security threatened he deserts his partner in crime. In the end, his betrayals of all human compassion catch up with him; he is tricked with bad drugs when Hells is ill; he kills the man who has fooled him, cost Hella her life; he deserts his unwanted son; and he walks out on everything, going underground in a hostile land. The story is there to be told unpalatable as it is. But the sneering characterization at every level, the filthy language, the presumption that there was no decency anywhere- (except perhaps in Hella, the German girl), leaves a bad taste- a sense of profound shock.
Pub Date: Feb. 23, 1955
ISBN: 0345441699
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: April 9, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1955
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
A strict report, worthy of sympathy.
A violent surfacing of adolescence (which has little in common with Tarkington's earlier, broadly comic, Seventeen) has a compulsive impact.
"Nobody big except me" is the dream world of Holden Caulfield and his first person story is down to the basic, drab English of the pre-collegiate. For Holden is now being bounced from fancy prep, and, after a vicious evening with hall- and roommates, heads for New York to try to keep his latest failure from his parents. He tries to have a wild evening (all he does is pay the check), is terrorized by the hotel elevator man and his on-call whore, has a date with a girl he likes—and hates, sees his 10 year old sister, Phoebe. He also visits a sympathetic English teacher after trying on a drunken session, and when he keeps his date with Phoebe, who turns up with her suitcase to join him on his flight, he heads home to a hospital siege. This is tender and true, and impossible, in its picture of the old hells of young boys, the lonesomeness and tentative attempts to be mature and secure, the awful block between youth and being grown-up, the fright and sickness that humans and their behavior cause the challenging, the dramatization of the big bang. It is a sorry little worm's view of the off-beat of adult pressure, of contemporary strictures and conformity, of sentiment….
A strict report, worthy of sympathy.Pub Date: June 15, 1951
ISBN: 0316769177
Page Count: -
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 1951
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
APPRECIATIONS
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