Those who aren’t sure what they’re in for with Palahniuk won’t want to start here.
Beneath the glamour of Hollywood lies an ineffable sadness, a commonplace notion that this occasionally amusing novel both belabors and mocks.
As the cult master of high-concept fictional subversion, the prolific Palahniuk (Pygmy, 2009, etc.) has his typical fun here, though the thinness of character and lack of narrative momentum that are part of the plan might try the reader’s patience. Within “this silly motion picture we call human history,” the tarnished heroine is aging Katherine “Miss Kathie” Kenton, whose riveting violet eyes and multiple marriages might tempt some to recall Elizabeth Taylor. The narrator is Hazie Coogan, who tells the story in terms of acts and scenes, with flashbacks and voice-overs. And who is Hazie? Not exactly a housekeeper or personal assistant to Miss Kathie. Perhaps a confidante or nursemaid. Certainly the second banana. “I was Thelma Ritter before Thelma Ritter was Thelma Ritter,” she writes, or rather Palahniuk writes, only in the novel each reference to Thelma Ritter is in boldface. As is every other proper name, most of them recognizable (“Lilly” Hellman, Coco Chanel, Ronald Reagan), and product name. Both the novel’s title and the boldface recall the golden age of the gossip columnist, with the author having great sport with the wordplay that once filled the columns of Walter Winchell, Hedda Hopper and the like. Every ex-husband, of whom Miss Kathie has many, is a “was-band,” while a book about such a star might be a “bile-ography.” As a younger Lothario vies to become the next Mr. Kathie, he is writing a memoir that will be far more marketable after her death. Or is he? Among the meta-fictional challenges the reader must confront within this narrative within a narrative within a narrative is what kind of book is Hazie writing (and we are reading). Meanwhile, the wordplay amuses.
Those who aren’t sure what they’re in for with Palahniuk won’t want to start here.Pub Date: May 4, 2010
ISBN: 978-0-385-52635-7
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: Feb. 16, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2010
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.
Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.
In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3
Page Count: 448
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014
BOOK TO SCREEN
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
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