Although Kimmel can write with real charm, the characters feel manufactured in this overly schematic plot.
Kimmel returns to the rural, small-town Indiana landscape of her memoirs (She Got Up Off the Couch, 2006, etc.) and her first novel (The Solace of Leaving Early, 2002), as well as to some favorite themes—beloved mothers; absent fathers; and what it means to be a Christian today.
Hazel, whose tough old hide conceals a soft heart, owns the eponymous second-hand store. There she employs Claudia, a mannishly big, desperately lonely woman in her 40s, and petite, 20-something Rebekah. Claudia has always avoided venturing beyond the bosom of her family and is still mourning her mother’s death three years ago when Hazel manipulates her into caring for an abandoned baby. After her own adored mother’s death, Rebekah rejected the strict Christian sect within which she was raised but has continued to live at home with her dictatorial father Vernon. When Rebekah’s boyfriend gets her pregnant and disappears, Vernon kicks Rebekah out. Hazel convinces Rebekah to go to Claudia’s for refuge. Suddenly Claudia finds herself with both a baby and a young woman to love. Interspersed with the ups and downs of Claudia and Rebekah’s relationship as they form a makeshift family is the story of Hazel’s adolescence during the 1960s and her past connection to Vernon, the novel’s obvious villain. Hazel’s best friend Finney, whom Hazel loved, perhaps more than platonically, became involved with a married man—Vernon. Jim, a young man who loved Hazel, married Finney to protect her when she became pregnant with Vernon’s child. Vernon’s violent attempt to take Finney’s infant for his wife to adopt caused Finney’s death, Jim’s brain damage and the stillbirth of a boy who would have been Rebekah’s brother. As if to counter Vernon’s narrow-minded brand of Christianity, Kimmel inserts conversation with Claudia’s enlightened Christian minister Amos, whose relationship with Claudia remains a red herring.
Although Kimmel can write with real charm, the characters feel manufactured in this overly schematic plot.Pub Date: Sept. 18, 2007
ISBN: 978-0-7432-4778-8
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Free Press
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2007
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.
Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985
ISBN: 038549081X
Page Count: -
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.
Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958
ISBN: 0385474547
Page Count: 207
Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky
Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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