A sprawling but very funny tale; if insecurity is the source of great humor, Marx has hit the mother lode.
The star of Marx’s comic novel hits the low-self-esteem trifecta: She’s a failed academic, a disappointing daughter and one man’s emotional doormat.
Eugene Obello is a pretentious, duplicitous chore of a person: A self-styled “philosophic analyst,” he’ll tell anybody who’ll listen about his intellectual endeavors, constantly note that his grandfather was once up for a Nobel Prize and woo (many) women with purple lines like, “my heart is with you, my ever-new enchantment.” And the unnamed heroine of Marx’s comic novel adores him—or, rather, she’s the kind of woman who’s so insecure that she’s flattered by his attentions. She was hapless as a student in Cambridge, England, where she met Eugene—she considered sleeping with a man she just met because she needed directions back to her dorm, the interviewers she hired to work on her nebulous, ever-changing thesis shook her down for money and she blew off her research to moon over Eugene even though he’d married somebody else. Her confidence slightly improves years later in New York, where she gets work as a writer on a B-list sketch-comedy show and a floundering kiddie program (she helps produce a segment called “The Time-Out Electric Chair”). But when Eugene reenters her life she’s back to her old self-destructive ways. A former Saturday Night Live writer and regular contributor of humor pieces to the New Yorker, Marx hasn’t written a novel so much as erected a narrative scaffold that’s just sturdy enough to contain all the gags she crams in, and there are some great one-liners like, “Dysfunctional families work just fine” and “Hypochondriacs make me sick.” Not all of it works; Marx overstuffs the story with secondary characters, and it’s time for a permanent ban on satirical typeface notes. But when she sticks to what are clearly her two favorite topics—cheating, narcissistic men and condescending, guilt-inducing parents—her jokes hit the target.
A sprawling but very funny tale; if insecurity is the source of great humor, Marx has hit the mother lode.Pub Date: Jan. 9, 2007
ISBN: 0-7432-9623-0
Page Count: 240
Publisher: Scribner
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 1, 2006
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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
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
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