A readable if off-balance slice of history in which breadth comes at the expense of depth.
The destinies of the four McCosh sisters and their childhood friends in the aftermath of World War I form the foundation of a multiperspective saga embracing fidelity and fertility, empire, belief, and parental love.
This new hymn to a bygone British era of heroism, engineering skills, and middle-class quirks by de Bernières (Notwithstanding, 2016, etc.) opens in colonial Ceylon (renamed Sri Lanka) in 1925, where handsome war hero and flying ace Daniel Pitt has settled with his wife, Rosie, now pregnant with their second child. But this happy marriage is doomed, leaving Daniel eternally questing for love and access to his children. Back in London, Rosie’s sisters, the McCoshes, are forming their futures, too. Ottilie decides to set aside an unrequited passion; Sophie marries her chaplain and opens a school; and Christabel strikes up “an unconventional friendship with a green-eyed artist who comported herself like a man.” These figures are but the core characters in a sprawling cast which also includes two of Daniel’s mistresses (one Ceylonese who bears him a son and one Irish), neither of whom he can marry since Rosie will never divorce him. And there’s more. The McCosh family gardener, Oily Wragge (yes), offers a working-class perspective as both soldier and engineer, and Daniel ends up fathering additional illegitimate children, although that’s nothing compared to the laundry list of mistresses and offspring revealed in Mr. McCosh’s will. Class, punitive marriages (and wives), war—the themes are many and sometimes debatable in this economical yet ambitious narrative that stretches from the scarred setting of the interwar phase to a resumption of conflict and loss in World War II. De Bernières unsettlingly alternates a light comic tone with more serious material and also often slips into clichéd, sentimental characterization. As a result, only the last of the story’s heartaches penetrates deeply.
A readable if off-balance slice of history in which breadth comes at the expense of depth.Pub Date: Aug. 7, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-524-74788-6
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Pantheon
Review Posted Online: May 27, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2018
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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
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
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