Ruthless editing might have liberated an intriguing thesis and sharply drawn protagonists from 100 pages of extraneous...
A double murder leads to some ugly discoveries about a small New Hampshire town and internet-fueled gossip in Baldwin’s ambitious second novel.
Unlike his witty and relaxed memoir (Paris, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down, 2012), Baldwin’s fiction strains for significance, and this one is even more overstuffed than its predecessor (You Lost Me There, 2010), with more plot and characters than the author’s technical abilities can handle. Baldwin crafts strong back stories and emotional issues for Martin Krug, a cop on the verge of retirement headed for his second divorce, and Nick Toussaint, the troubled 20-year-old he plucks from a crashed car who promptly confesses to killing the two blood-stained corpses in the back seat. And Nick’s 16-year-old truelove, Emily, subject to vicious cyberbullying and a controlling best friend, is the novel’s most full-bodied and complex character, tougher than her fragile exterior suggests. But around these three mill too many people who drop in and out of the story too often to sustain readers’ attention. Thelsa Mann, recently laid off from the Village Voice, is introduced early on and pointed in the direction of the hometown she shares with Nick and Emily, then disappears for more than 60 pages before arriving in New Hampshire to wander around obtaining a lot of thirdhand information—including a bombshell revelation about the motive behind the murders that is conveyed by a character we have just met, who heard it from someone who wasn’t there. Baldwin several times employs this technique of initially doling out plot points via a non-eyewitness, thereby muffling the impact of the eventual, fuller account by an actual participant. He seems to be making a statement about the way misinformation is spread in our hyperconnected culture, and a few clever passages of text messages reinforce it, but on the whole it simply makes for a muddy narrative.
Ruthless editing might have liberated an intriguing thesis and sharply drawn protagonists from 100 pages of extraneous material. As it stands, admirable but overreaching.Pub Date: June 6, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-374-29856-2
Page Count: 400
Publisher: MCD/Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: March 20, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2017
BOOK REVIEW
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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