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THE PAINTING

An ambitious first outing, but Schuyler has bitten off more than she can chew.

History scars hapless individuals in 19th-century France and Japan.

A big year, 1870. In Japan, the opening to the West has begun, Buddhist temples are being closed or destroyed, and Shintoism is being installed as the national religion, while in France the Prussian army is closing in on Paris. East and West are yoked uncomfortably together in alternating sections, their one tenuous connection being a painting. In a town near Tokyo, Hayashi exports his own pottery to Europe. His childhood ended when a fire wiped out his family (his father had been plotting against the feudal regime), and now he lives unhappily with his wife, Ayoshi, knowing nothing of her background, her passionate love for an Ainu (Untouchable), or her abortion, arranged by her father, just like her marriage. Ayoshi mopes, preserving the Ainu in her paintings, one of which will find its way to Paris. The couple’s household will be enlivened by the arrival of a monk. His monastery has been destroyed, and he will behave most unmonkishly, exchanging kisses with Ayoshi and, jealous already, ripping up an erotic painting. In Paris, we focus on Jorgen, a young Danish soldier fighting for the French to atone for impregnating and abandoning his Danish sweetheart. No, it doesn’t quite compute, but then nothing Jorgen does makes sense. He trips over his rifle and has to have his leg amputated: no more soldiering. He goes to work for a Parisian importer, where he steals Ayoshi’s painting. He falls for his employer’s sister, the goodhearted Natalia, but realizes he needs her only after encouraging her to enlist. He recognizes the talismanic power of the painting (the universal language of art) but sells it anyway, then desperately tries to buy it back. In a go-for-broke ending, Schuyler sends him aloft in a balloon, while, in Japan, Ayoshi burns her paintings and ships out to San Francisco.

An ambitious first outing, but Schuyler has bitten off more than she can chew.

Pub Date: Oct. 22, 2004

ISBN: 1-56512-441-3

Page Count: 320

Publisher: Algonquin

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2004

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THE HANDMAID'S TALE

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

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IF CATS DISAPPEARED FROM THE WORLD

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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