A tour de force, reminiscent of the best of John Fowles and David Mitchell.
A nightmare from the liminal world between sanity and insanity, between language and silence.
Substantially shorter than the inaugural volume (The Wake, 2014) in a projected trilogy-cum–genealogical saga, Kingsnorth’s latest also seems more assured. In part, that’s because he writes in modern English rather than the Old English–ish tongue of the first book; in part it’s because the concerns will seem immediate to modern readers: the world is going to hell, and about the only sensible approach to living in it is to go mad. Edward Buckmaster is a hermit in the woodlands of western England; he’s tried the city and did not like it, so now he camps outdoors or inside a collapsing old barn. “On the high moor there are patterns and in my small mind there are patterns,” he reflects, “and my breath fogs on the windows here and when I leave a footprint in the yard it stays for weeks.” One pattern that Buckmaster sees is the inherent beastliness of the world: the lion hiding in the storm cloud, the serpent coiled in lightning. And literally: a hare with almost human eyes has been haunting him ever since he saw it under an ash tree, pausing as if to speak to him. Some other beast, Buckmaster fears, is descending upon him, and his special madness lies in trying to divine what it is: “Someone is waiting for me where the moor ends. I think there is much that I do not see.” As Buckmaster unhinges, Kingsnorth’s language becomes an onrushing torrent of words, long passages of internal monologue without much punctuation or capitalization: “the potato is disgusting my mouth is cracked and dry like glasspaper why did i eat a raw potato what a stupid thing to do.” The effect is one of compelling immediacy as Kingsnorth recounts what it is to live in a time and place that is crumbling at the edges.
A tour de force, reminiscent of the best of John Fowles and David Mitchell.Pub Date: Aug. 1, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-55597-779-5
Page Count: 184
Publisher: Graywolf
Review Posted Online: May 14, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2017
An illuminating read for anyone interested in the inner workings of the Catholic Church; for prelate-fiction superfans, it...
Harris, creator of grand, symphonic thrillers from Fatherland (1992) to An Officer and a Spy (2014), scores with a chamber piece of a novel set in the Vatican in the days after a fictional pope dies.
Fictional, yes, but the nameless pontiff has a lot in common with our own Francis: he’s famously humble, shunning the lavish Apostolic Palace for a small apartment, and he is committed to leading a church that engages with the world and its problems. In the aftermath of his sudden death, rumors circulate about the pope’s intention to fire certain cardinals. At the center of the action is Cardinal Lomeli, Dean of the College of Cardinals, whose job it is to manage the conclave that will elect a new pope. He believes it is also his duty to uncover what the pope knew before he died because some of the cardinals in question are in the running to succeed him. “In the running” is an apt phrase because, as described by Harris, the papal conclave is the ultimate political backroom—albeit a room, the Sistine Chapel, covered with Michelangelo frescoes. Vying for the papal crown are an African cardinal whom many want to see as the first black pope, a press-savvy Canadian, an Italian arch-conservative (think Cardinal Scalia), and an Italian liberal who wants to continue the late pope’s campaign to modernize the church. The novel glories in the ancient rituals that constitute the election process while still grounding that process in the real world: the Sistine Chapel is fitted with jamming devices to thwart electronic eavesdropping, and the pressure to act quickly is increased because “rumours that the pope is dead are already trending on social media.”
An illuminating read for anyone interested in the inner workings of the Catholic Church; for prelate-fiction superfans, it is pure temptation.Pub Date: Nov. 22, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-451-49344-6
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: Sept. 6, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2016
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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