A well-wrought crime story that could as easily have been a documentary: truthful and sobering.
Saviano (Gomorrah, 2007, etc.) returns to his native Naples to spin a chilling tale of teenage gangsters.
Call it The Godfather with training wheels. Nicolas Fiorillo is the hardworking, hard-thinking 15-year-old head of a motor scooter–borne gang, or “paranza,” a word that, Saviano tells us at the very start, “comes from the sea.” A boat goes to sea at night with bright lights to lure fish to rise, thinking the sun is up, only to be snagged in the net; so it is that the youngsters of the southern Italian projects become “guaglioni,” tough kids on the way to being made men. When a gang boss called Copacabana hangs out a sign, so to speak, looking for fresh blood, Nicolas and company are there: “You go,“ Nicolas thinks, “you answer the call. You have to be strong with the strong.” The errands that the “paranza” runs provide a powerful education in how the underworld works: Drugs are transported and sold, rival gangs beaten, shots fired. Ambitious and ruthless, Nicolas steadily rises in the demimonde, becoming a force in himself, pushing aside obstacles; at times he resembles a young Don Corleone, at others the Alex of A Clockwork Orange, and he makes for a creepy protagonist, as when he takes down a target: “Now Nicolas caught a glimpse of that enormous Adam’s apple, bobbing up and down in surprise, and he wondered just what it would sound like to put a couple of bullets right through the middle of it." Saviano, well-established as a crime journalist, delivers an effective yarn without much of a moral: Bad kids will rise to their own level, and, if given half a chance, the best of them will become even worse than their best teachers. There are a lot of Neapolitan cultural details, perhaps a touch too much for the casual reader, and a few walk-on characters too many, but Saviano’s story careens to a satisfying if sanguinary conclusion.
A well-wrought crime story that could as easily have been a documentary: truthful and sobering.Pub Date: Sept. 4, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-374-23002-9
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: June 17, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2018
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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