Johnson is asking hard questions about race in America but he’s using an awfully tame approach to work out the answers, at...
A middle-aged failure struggles with his identity and masculinity when he’s forced to return home to Philly.
Johnson (Pym, 2011, etc.) digs autobiographically deep for this tragicomic novel about grudgingly returning to one’s roots. Our narrator is Warren Duffy, whose complex back story lends credence to his character. He’s a failed comic-book artist suffering from the triple whammy of a fresh divorce from his Welsh wife, losing his comic-book store in Cardiff, and his father’s death. Returning to his family’s palatial home in urban Philadelphia, Warren finds his old neighborhood has long gone to seed. He’s very conflicted as the light-skinned son of a black mother and an Irish father who long ago fled his racially charged hometown. Fate can’t resist kicking home once again when Warren discovers that he has a daughter, Tal, from an empty high school liaison with a local Jewish girl who's long since dead. The reluctant father warily takes in his daughter and stumbles across a local school called The Mélange Center, which devotes itself exclusively to supporting multiracial students. There, he discovers that others see him as a “sunflower”: “yellow on the outside, brown on the inside. A slang term for a biracial person who denies their mixed nature, only recognizing their black identity.” As a narrator, Warren is complicated and articulate, but readers may struggle to identify with his multifarious quarrels with the neighborhood locals, his aggressive yearning for one of Tal’s teachers, and the perpetual tightrope he believes he walks between the black and white worlds. The author is clearly interested in what it means to be biracial in America and whether it's better to identify publicly as white, black, or biracial. But he does the heavy lifting on the writing side, too, consummating his story with an absurd but comic conflagration on the occasion of “Loving Day,” a real but little-known celebration of the day the Supreme Court struck down all laws criminalizing interracial marriage.
Johnson is asking hard questions about race in America but he’s using an awfully tame approach to work out the answers, at least this go-round.Pub Date: May 26, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-8129-9345-5
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Spiegel & Grau
Review Posted Online: May 26, 2015
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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