Despite the subtitle, as much Faust as Frankenstein; for teens looking for social commentary in their fiction.
A philosophical fable, fourth in the series but able to stand alone, pits an ambitious scientist against his own unnatural creation.
Aspern Grayling was born in bucolic, pacifist Arcadia, but after over 100 years, all his loyalties lie with the technocratic militaristic empire of Megalopolis. This report, ostensibly a plan of conquest, metamorphoses from a dry encyclopedic assessment to a more personal memoir (or, perhaps, confession) following his triumph: the genetically-engineered Nietzschean übermensch Pavo Vale. Incorporating allusions to the contemporary political climate, the story delivers a polemic framed in binaries: technology/nature, individualism/communalism, rational/spiritual, toxic masculinity/eternal feminine, etc. The former are personified in the monstrous Pavo, who would be cartoonishly villainous if it weren’t for his graphically brutal rapes, murders, incestuous obsession, and wanton destruction; the latter, in the immensely (and interchangeably) beautiful, wise, compassionate, multiethnic heroines of Arcadia. Only Aspern bridges the divide: He is arrogant, condescending, viciously misogynistic, transparently (and unconvincingly) justifying of Pavo’s appalling crimes, yet sympathetic in his honest admiration of any intellectual achievement, his craving for respect and admiration, and his deep, unwilling love for the Arcadian professor Devindra Vale. Black-and-white illustrations of tarotlike cards in a pre-Raphaelite style hint that the apparent triumph of Megalopolis and its values may be only temporary.
Despite the subtitle, as much Faust as Frankenstein; for teens looking for social commentary in their fiction. (dramatis personae, family tree, table of transformations, appendices) (Fantasy. 15-adult)Pub Date: Aug. 25, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-935259-31-2
Page Count: 240
Publisher: Exterminating Angel
Review Posted Online: July 16, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2018
BOOK REVIEW
A breezy and fun contemporary fantasy.
A tightly wound caseworker is pushed out of his comfort zone when he’s sent to observe a remote orphanage for magical children.
Linus Baker loves rules, which makes him perfectly suited for his job as a midlevel bureaucrat working for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, where he investigates orphanages for children who can do things like make objects float, who have tails or feathers, and even those who are young witches. Linus clings to the notion that his job is about saving children from cruel or dangerous homes, but really he’s a cog in a government machine that treats magical children as second-class citizens. When Extremely Upper Management sends for Linus, he learns that his next assignment is a mission to an island orphanage for especially dangerous kids. He is to stay on the island for a month and write reports for Extremely Upper Management, which warns him to be especially meticulous in his observations. When he reaches the island, he meets extraordinary kids like Talia the gnome, Theodore the wyvern, and Chauncey, an amorphous blob whose parentage is unknown. The proprietor of the orphanage is a strange but charming man named Arthur, who makes it clear to Linus that he will do anything in his power to give his charges a loving home on the island. As Linus spends more time with Arthur and the kids, he starts to question a world that would shun them for being different, and he even develops romantic feelings for Arthur. Lambda Literary Award–winning author Klune (The Art of Breathing, 2019, etc.) has a knack for creating endearing characters, and readers will grow to love Arthur and the orphans alongside Linus. Linus himself is a lovable protagonist despite his prickliness, and Klune aptly handles his evolving feelings and morals. The prose is a touch wooden in places, but fans of quirky fantasy will eat it up.
A breezy and fun contemporary fantasy.Pub Date: March 17, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-250-21728-8
Page Count: 352
Publisher: Tor
Review Posted Online: Nov. 10, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2019
PERSPECTIVES
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.
Atwood goes back to Gilead.
The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Nan A. Talese
Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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