A cautionary tale about what happens when the party’s over.
An exiled Wall Street trader offers an unapologetic accounting of the excesses of the early 1980s.
Goolrick (Heading Out to Wonderful, 2012, etc.) is a superb writer, as evidenced by his sublime debut novel, A Reliable Wife (2009), and his brutal memoir, The End of the World as We Know It (2007). He's referred to his latest as both novel and autobiography; it carries both the artistic qualities of the former and the emotional truth of the latter, even if it is set during a well-worn moment in the American zeitgeist. The unnamed narrator is a former Wall Street hotshot who looks back on his glory days as a “Big Swinging Dick,” swimming among the other sharks. The novel presents its chapters as vignettes that depict his unmaking—think of it as the Icarus myth of a cocky young kid as filtered through the voice of a tired older man. “I say this without pride or apology,” he says. “It is a statement of irrefutable fact. I could charm a hatchling out of its egg. I could sell ice cream to Eskimos. Dead Eskimos.” It shares some aspects of similar stories, ranging from the tragicomic beats of Jay McInerney or Bret Easton Ellis to the repulsive behaviors in films like Oliver Stone’s Wall Street (1989) and Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)—mountains of cocaine, thousand-dollar prostitutes, and bro-enabled debauchery are all on full display. Fortunately, Goolrick’s measured pace and insightful revelations save it from becoming a mockery. For starters, Goolrick worked in advertising, not finance, and so there’s no complex financial wizardry to detract from the core story. More importantly, it doesn’t carry the obscene celebratory tone of some of its analogues. Goolrick is focused on the idea of loss and redemption and shows the small ways by which we become human again. As our man burns through his money and reputation, loses his place on Mount Olympus, and eventually becomes a bookseller, the novel does its best to show the price of flying too high.
A cautionary tale about what happens when the party’s over.Pub Date: Aug. 25, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-61620-420-4
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Algonquin
Review Posted Online: May 5, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2015
PROFILES
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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