Fabulist elements, lyrical prose, and a chorus of narrative voices give this slim novel depth and breadth.
Old family resentments build along with a storm off the coast of Colombia.
González's (In the Beginning Was the Sea, 2015) latest novel to be translated into English is set in a Colombian seaside village, where an arrogant old man runs the Hotel Playamar with help from his adult twin sons. Despite a storm brewing, the stubborn father decides the three of them will spend a day and a night at sea fishing. The twins are Mario, the more volatile and practical, and Javier, the more even-tempered and bookish. Though there is no love lost between the twins and their father, the two do love their mother, Nora, “a total nutcase” who hallucinates and hears voices. Nora's condition has been worsening since her husband brought his young mistress and infant son to live at the hotel. Time moves forward hour by hour as noted in section titles, from Saturday, 4:00 a.m. to Sunday, 6:00 a.m. On shore, the mother begins to suffer a breakdown and the hotel guests are swept up in her hallucination. At sea, the threat of the storm mounts and the men find almost a biblical bounty of fish. Throughout, the narrative shifts between first- and close third-person, and a host of characters tell the tale. The many tourists of various ages and backgrounds show the contradictions in different characters’ perspectives. The father envisions himself a king while the twins see him as a dictator, and, from the tourists, we begin to see the dilapidated state of his kingdom. There is humor in the frequent revelation of self-delusions. There is also suspense as the storm—more interpersonal than weather-related—builds and breaks.
Fabulist elements, lyrical prose, and a chorus of narrative voices give this slim novel depth and breadth.Pub Date: Nov. 20, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-939810-02-1
Page Count: 120
Publisher: Archipelago
Review Posted Online: Sept. 1, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2018
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
PROFILES
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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