A remarkable exploration of storytelling, fame and the Nigerian American experience, acclaimed science fiction writer Nnedi Okorafor’s Death of the Author surprises all the way to its brilliant ending.
A remarkable exploration of storytelling, fame and the Nigerian American experience, acclaimed science fiction writer Nnedi Okorafor’s Death of the Author surprises all the way to its brilliant ending.
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In Sara Gran’s sexy and captivating thriller The Book of the Most Precious Substance, a rare books dealer embarks on an epic hunt for a shadowy tome that could change the trajectory of her life.

A few years ago, Lily Albrecht had it all: a once-in-a-lifetime love and a thriving writing career. Now Lily’s brilliant soul mate, Abel, has a neurodegenerative disease and can no longer communicate, move or even eat on his own. He is like a locked box on a high shelf, one she can guard but never reach.

Lily loves and advocates for her husband fiercely but is worn down by financial pressure, anxiety and grief for the incredible life they once shared. For years she’s been their sole breadwinner. Now her promising writing career has dissolved, and she’s caught between dedication, loneliness and frustration as she sells off their precious collection of books.

By the time she’s asked by Shyman, a fellow books dealer, to find an elusive 17th-century book about the occult and “sex magic,” Lily’s life has shrunk into a joyless routine of work, worry and care. The high six-figure finder’s fee for this magical tome—“the rarest, most sought after book in the entire bibliography of the occult”—could stabilize her finances and give her the means to pursue more treatment for Abel. However, Lily finds it odd that so little information is available about such a legendary book.

Then Shyman dies suddenly and violently, and with no middle man taking a cut, her commission becomes potentially even more lucrative. Lucas, a friend and colleague, becomes her partner in the quest, and their collaboration presents its own potential rewards and temptations.

Lily is a sympathetic yet formidable figure. She’s dedicated but still human, alternating between numbness and mourning, loyalty and long-sublimated desire. Gran is uniquely talented at bringing such complex feelings to life. Her writing is effective, economical and moving, and while Lily’s hunt propels the story forward, it is Gran’s frequently exquisite prose that demands investment from its audience.

Readers will ache for Lily and Abel and envy what they once had. Brief but evocative moments reveal not just Lily’s lack but also her desire, and possibly what’s to come. These scenes are just one small part of what makes Gran’s thoughtful and erotically charged thriller so well worth reading.

Readers will ache for Lily and Abel and envy what they once had. This is just one part of what makes Sara Gran’s erotically charged thriller so worth reading.
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It has finally happened: Hannibal Lecter has become a pop cliche. Opening seven years after Lecter’s dramatic escape, Hannibal gets off to an appropriately grisly start: a showdown between DC drug dealers and a hodgepodge of feds, including a salty thirtysomething Clarice Starling. Starling, now a SWAT-type bad girl, kills several people and is hauled in front of an investigating committee, headed up by Paul Krendler from the Justice Department, who’s held a grudge ever since she beat him to serial killer Buffalo Bill in The Silence of the Lambs. Krendler also happens to be on the private payroll of one of Lecter’s surviving victims. Mason Verger is quite the monster himself, another demented patient Lecter chose to toy with rather than treat. Lecter’s ministrations have left Verger paralyzed and horribly disfigured, and thirsty for revenge. Wealthy and influential, he has assembled a bizarre and savage group to bring Lecter in and brutally torture him to death. Up pops the devil, in (where else?) Florence. A disguised Lecter has been deciphering medieval manuscripts in an attempt to trace his lineage. But he’s discovered by a bent Italian cop, who sells him out to Verger. A murderous international chase ensues, while Starling thrashes in bureaucratic fetters, desperate to get into the action. But she, Verger, and Lecter are on a collision course, driven to each other by equal parts lust and hatred.

Hannibal is a novel of both revelation and conclusion. Significant missing pieces of Lecter’s past, as well as the peculiar structure of his psychopathology, are unveiled throughout the book, by Starling and other pursuers as much as by Lecter himself. There is some closure given to the relations between the primary characters (Starling, Lecter) and the secondaries (FBI boss Jack Crawford, Barney the asylum orderly, Starling’s dad no, really). This novel is quite different from Red Dragon or The Silence of the Lambs. The narrative style includes more descriptive passages and action sequences, as opposed to the hard-edged dialogue landscapes the author favored in previous books. Several strategically placed lines are nearly verbatim repetitions of Ted Tally’s Lambs screenplay dialogue; Harris seems to use the film as a referent for backstory, a way of saying to the reader, There, now do you get it? The characters, though a bit older, seem to have lost some of their previous intelligent plasticity and have settled into pop caricatures (Starling as the Bionic Woman, Lecter as James Bond). The biggest surprise is Lecter, bursting all boundaries as he has his prison shackles, a being of such superhuman ability that he is now clinically classified as something Other than man.

Or at least he starts out that way. The reader learns that the very catalyst of his transformation (an unpleasant childhood matter with a sister, which for some reason hasn’t surfaced until now) is nothing very different from the same banal trauma of the patients who bored him. The realm he rules is one of chaos, yet he hungers for one of order, and that undermines his inhuman appeal. Lecter may be questing for transvaluation, but ultimately he’s just a man, with a man’s fears and desires. It’s strange to see Harris winding up this trilogy of humans on the edge with such a heavy-handed nod to humanity, but he appears to have had fun doing it. And with the immense publicity buzz, and the wheels of the film industry already turning, he has had the last laugh.

Adam Dunn writes for Current Diversions and Speak.

It has finally happened: Hannibal Lecter has become a pop cliche. Opening seven years after Lecter's dramatic escape, Hannibal gets off to an appropriately grisly start: a showdown between DC drug dealers and a hodgepodge of feds, including a salty thirtysomething Clarice Starling. Starling, now…

From the first paragraphs of Vladimir, it’s clear we’re plunging into a campus novel with some darkness to it but also some comedy. At 58, the unnamed narrator is a long-tenured English professor at a small upstate New York college. She should be writing another novel and coasting to retirement. Instead, her husband, John, also an English professor and chair of their department, is being investigated for his past affairs with students, and he’s on leave while he awaits the outcome.

John’s affairs are no secret; long ago, he and the narrator agreed on an open marriage of sorts. Still, she’s angry—at John and pretty much everyone else. “Lightning bolts of anger shot from my vagina to my extremities,” she says, explaining why she’s been avoiding faculty events.

At this moment in the narrator’s life, a new colleague appears: Vladimir Vladinksi, a younger writer with a well-regarded first novel and abs to die for. The narrator is suddenly and completely obsessed, and she concocts a plan to charm and seduce Vlad. Complicating this setup is the narrator’s grown daughter, Sidney, who returns home after a fight with her longtime girlfriend.

Vladimir sweeps us along on a sometimes claustrophobic ride, as the narrator muses on departmental politics, campus “cancel culture” and her uncomfortable perch as a feminist who’s somehow landed on the wrong side of the #MeToo movement. She’s funny, biting and given to bouts of narcissism and self-loathing. As she single-mindedly pursues Vlad, she slowly reveals past and present bad decisions, leading to a shocking climactic scene.

Part dark comedy and part satire, with a dash of the gothic and plenty of literary allusions, Vladimir is a little hard to pin down. But if you imagine the Netflix comedy “The Chair,” whose faculty characters are almost done in by contemporary campus politics, crossed with the acidic love-hate relationship at the heart of Tom Stoppard’s 1962 play, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, you wouldn’t be too far off.

Vladimir is Julia May Jonas’ first novel, but she’s also a playwright who teaches at Skidmore College in Saratoga, New York. With her background as a dramatist, she brings notable verve and drama to this sharp campus novel.

With her background as a dramatist, author Julia May Jonas brings notable verve and drama to this sharp campus novel.
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The compilations of The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror come annually as a great blessing to those of us who, from time to time, descend clandestinely out of the literature section of our premiere retail bookstores into the horror and fantasy shelves. We go to see what’s new, hoping against hope that our adolescent love affairs with these genres can be rekindled by a resurgence of quality which, like all fantasy, is both impossible and always in the offing.

We need look no further for guidance than Ellen Datlow’s and Terri Windling’s extraordinary anthologies. Each year’s edition begins with a comprehensive roundup of books, films, magazines, and comics from the previous year, which by itself is worth the price of the book.

The lone nonfiction piece among the current year’s vast and delightful heap of stories and poems is “The Pathos of Genre,” by Douglas E. Winter. A distinguished critic of horror fiction (a dubious distinction, but there it is), Mr. Winter struggles manfully over a proper definition of “horror,” and laments the genre’s evolution in recent years along market lines, rather than aesthetic ones. His investigation takes for granted that an aesthetic of horror and of fantasy, for that matter actually exists. It might help a potential reader of this collection to try to set such principles forth: In horror fiction, no matter how good things seem, they will always get worse. The pleasure of the genre derives from the reader’s trust that the author will unleash on her characters a fury of mortal pain and inevitable death unfolding in a manner as ingenious, outrageous, and poetic as possible. Whichever characters survive the ordeal are not stronger by virtue of it, but are invariably bound together by their shared nightmare. In the current collection, Gene Wolfe’s “The Tree Is My Hat ” offers a powerful realization of all these elements of horror, all the more exemplary because of its classic format of diary entries, so familiar to readers of Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

In fantasy fiction, no matter how bad things get, they will always be redeemed, either by the characters’ capacity for wonder, or (paradoxically) by their wise acceptance of their own mortal limitations in a supernatural context where almost anything can happen, and usually does. “At Reparata,” by Jeffrey Ford, is a glorious example of these core aspects of fantasy fiction. The light touches of Ford and certain other authors in the anthology draw the grateful reader back to read the best of these beautiful tales over and over again.

Michael Rose is a music professor at Vanderbilt University.

The compilations of The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror come annually as a great blessing to those of us who, from time to time, descend clandestinely out of the literature section of our premiere retail bookstores into the horror and fantasy shelves. We go to…
Review by

When acclaimed Japanese director Akira Kurosawa released his 1985 masterpiece Ran, critics noted that the 75-year-old filmmaker brought the wisdom and disappointment of age to his adaptation of King Lear. In a similar vein, Kentucky writer Wendell Berry has crafted a triumphant capstone to his decades-long career. Jayber Crow is a thoughtful and nostalgic look at the 20th century as it affected the inhabitants of a tiny Kentucky river town.

Berry has written about the community of Port William throughout his work. This latest novel is the autobiography of the town’s barber, who has lived among the community for half a century, but grew up in an orphanage. As he recounts the events of his life, from his childhood at the close of World War I through the Depression and several other wars, to his retirement, the book invokes images of the wracking changes this country has undergone.

Jayber’s observations don’t just linger on historic events. An intimate observer of the community yet at times an outsider, Jayber keenly observes the nuances and follies of the community and its membership. An early stint at a theological seminary ends when Jayber is shaken by doubt. Although Jayber questions doctrine, he never abandons faith. He realizes that his calling is to be the barber and in many ways, the minister to his beloved community. But Jayber remains haunted by the question that caused him to reject the seminary: If Christ commanded people to love one another, why do they choose hate so often? For Jayber, revelation sometimes comes while trudging through a dark, cold, stormy night. In one memorable sequence, Jayber journeys to witness the havoc wrought by the 1937 flood. Crossing a shaky bridge, nearly overwhelmed by a runaway river, he realizes he needs to abandon his destination of Louisville in favor of Port William. Viewed from Jayber’s barber shop, most of the events of the century, from the construction of the interstate highway system to the Vietnam War, have little to do with love or even the notions of mutual benefit that bind a community. Too, some of Port William’s residents are portraits of self-importance and even brutality. Even Jayber admits he fails to love everyone, although in retrospect he discovers he can feel compassion and pity for most. And most of the town’s inhabitants shine with mutual love, respect, and charity. In particular, there is the woman for whom Jayber bears a bright and unrequited love, and on whose behalf he swears a unique and secret oath. In Jayber Crow, Berry mourns the destruction of community wrought by forces like television and the emphasis on getting ahead. Where once family farmers traded their produce for goods at the local market, they’re now reduced to consumers whose only welcome contribution is cash. Berry’s brilliance is that the reader joins him in lamenting the town’s loss of innocence, while taking hope in the strength that love and community can bring.

Gregory Harris is a writer and editor living in Indianapolis. Like Jayber Crow, he grew up in Kentucky.

When acclaimed Japanese director Akira Kurosawa released his 1985 masterpiece Ran, critics noted that the 75-year-old filmmaker brought the wisdom and disappointment of age to his adaptation of King Lear. In a similar vein, Kentucky writer Wendell Berry has crafted a triumphant capstone to his…

Review by

Considering that it’s about a dying man, Don’t Cry for Me by Daniel Black is incredibly alive. The novel’s simple format—letters that offer decades of retrospection—makes for incredible storytelling, and readers will be invested from page one.

Jacob Swinton is dying of lung cancer. In his last few months, he decides to write to his estranged gay son, Isaac. Through these letters, Jacob not only atones for his past behavior but also chronicles the Swinton family history from the time of American slavery until the early 2000s. His recollections of growing up on his grandparents’ farm in rural Arkansas range from loving memories of baking a cake with his grandmother to devastating revelations of abuse at his grandfather’s hand.

Jacob’s heartbreak is palpable as he recounts his story, and his deathbed serves as a vantage point from which he can both see his wrongdoings and also forgive himself for them. To his credit, he confronts his mistakes head-on. He did the best he could, but that doesn’t change the fact that he rejected Isaac for being gay and destroyed his chances at having a relationship with him.

Jacob is terribly lonely, kept company only by the books that open his mind but also sharpen his understanding of how wrong he has been. By reading the words of Malcolm X and Alice Walker, he discovers new pride in his Black ancestors and confronts decades of toxic masculinity and generational trauma. He feels shame for how he has treated women while understanding that it was learned behavior, passed down by the men before him.

But these are letters, not a conversation with his son, so despite Jacob’s change of heart, it’s all too late. The damage has been done.

An accomplished author of six previous novels, Black has crafted a memorable, poignant story that explores themes of regret, legacy and family—and yet remains perfectly balanced through it all.

A dying man confronts his mistakes and makes a last-ditch attempt to reconnect with his son in this vividly told and poignant novel.
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Australian author Colleen McCullough is probably best known for her beloved bestseller, The Thorn Birds. But in the years since the release of that brilliant work, McCullough has concentrated on other topics, mainly her epic series, The Masters of Rome. Now, in her latest, Morgan’s Run, McCullough returns to her beloved down-under to tell the story of that nation’s birth.

At the center of this powerful narrative is the gentle Richard Morgan. The son of an English tavern-keeper, Morgan is a hard working and devoted son, husband, and father. However, after the devastating deaths of his wife and son, Morgan falls in with unsavory company and finds himself the victim of an elaborate set-up. He ends up a convict in some of England’s worst prisons.

By chance, he is chosen to board the infamous First Fleet, which transported over 500 males and over 100 females from England to the mysterious Botany Bay at the end of the 18th century. But this was not a pleasure cruise. After spending many anguishing months aboard the filthy prison vessels, Morgan and his fellow inmates found their worst nightmares were just beginning: they were expected to civilize the hostile land.

A man of quiet strength and strong moral convictions, Richard Morgan is one of Colleen McCullough’s most compelling characters. He stands out among the rest of the convicts due to his keen intelligence, common sense, and gentle willingness to help others. Throughout his trials and tribulations, Morgan remains dignified, even in horrible situations that would have broken a lesser man. In Morgan’s Run, McCullough has created an epic drama rivaled only by her own bestsellers. But she has also interwoven throughout the story a detailed and precise history of life in England during the American Revolution, as well as the beginnings of the foundling nation of Australia. And, amazingly enough, though much of the book dwells on the hardships endured by Morgan, there are also moments of joy and beauty. Romance can be found in the oddest places, and McCullough includes moments of passion among the grief and heartaches of life. In her author’s notes, McCullough explains that the real Richard Morgan is the four-times great-grandfather of her husband, and that she found his story fascinating. Readers will find themselves agreeing with her, as they follow his unforgettable journey in Morgan’s Run.

Sharon Galligar Chance is the senior book reviewer for the Times Record News in Wichita Falls, Texas.

Australian author Colleen McCullough is probably best known for her beloved bestseller, The Thorn Birds. But in the years since the release of that brilliant work, McCullough has concentrated on other topics, mainly her epic series, The Masters of Rome. Now, in her latest, Morgan's…
Review by

A trio of fresh new voices If you are looking for ideas for New Year’s resolutions, why not resolve to read something completely new this January? Though this might not sound like the wildest suggestion, let’s face it, when was the last time you bought a book by an unknown author? Thankfully, January is a good month to gamble on unknowns. Here’s a look a three debut novels definitely worth checking out in 2000. Interested in medieval settings? You know, stories with castles and serfs. Well, if you are, then The Testament of Yves Gundron (Farrar, Straus ∧ Giroux, $25, 0374221790) is right up your hedgerow. This debut by Emily Barton invites us into Mandragora, a small, medieval country located in the interior of a remote island. In Mandragora we meet Yves Gundron, a fairly ordinary peasant farmer. Yves works hard in the fields to support his family, and one day, in an inspired moment, he invents the harness, an implement that makes life just a little less difficult for himself and everyone else. But if the creation of the harness comes as a revelation to the Mandragorans, then you can only imagine what the appearance of Ruth Blum, an anthropologist from Boston does to this primitive society. In this imaginative first novel, Barton continually surprises us with her quirky plot changes. As you might have guessed, Mandragora turns out to be a secluded medieval society somehow forgotten by a world brimming with 20th-century conveniences. Her novel thus details the emotional and psychological upheaval of a community suddenly caught between the Middle Ages and modernity. Plot surprises aside, the real fun in this book lies in Barton’s take on the medieval mind. Written from Yves Gundron’s point of view, this clever novel pokes fun at the habits and suspicions of Mandragora’s backwards inhabitants. Burton deftly captures the dispositions of these charming simpletons as she sets them up for their shocking communal epiphany. This novel is a fine-tuned comedy well suited for fans of historical fiction. In an equally imaginative albeit less fantastical vein Zoe Heller’s debut takes a more serious look at life’s surprises. In Everything You Know (Alfred A. Knopf, $22, 0375407243) Heller takes on the voice of an aging British writer convalescing from a heart attack in Mexico. Willy Muller is a man born to face hardship and suffering. Consequently he is a man who despises just about everything. A true misanthrope, Muller’s rage at the world manifests itself in his verbal and psychological abuse of those closest to him. His girlfriend, his agent, his nurses, and his few friends all bear the brunt of his caustic temperament. As author, Heller does an amazing job at capturing the acidity of this aging curmudgeon, but the overall power in this story comes from the unraveling of Muller’s life. Though Muller seems born to be bad, slowly we begin to understand him as a man born to experience sorrow.

Having lost his first wife in an accident for which he was blamed, Willy is completely estranged from his two daughters. During Willy’s convalescence we also discover that his youngest daughter, Sophie, has recently committed suicide.

Through a strange twist in fate, Willy finds himself in possession of Sophie’s diary. While recovering, he reads his daughter’s journal in an attempt to recapture something of her lost life. This is a heartbreaking tale told masterfully by a writer seemingly wise beyond her years. Heller writes convincingly from Muller’s point of view, but the real triumph here is the depth of her insight into the tragedy of this man’s life. For all the story’s bitterness, this is a truly engrossing book. Heller surely will be a writer to watch in years to come. Eliza Osborne’s debut, The Distance Between, also takes a hard, sober look at family tragedy. Like Heller, Osborne captures a character who is forced to survey the more difficult terrain in life. This well-crafted novel follows Mattie Welsh as she travels by car to her parents’ home in Pennsylvania. Mattie’s elderly parents have been injured in a car accident. Osborne’s novel thus focuses on the inward monologue of a woman faced suddenly with her parent’s mortality. The Distance Between relates a stirring personal journey. Osborne’s writing is electrifying in its poetic intensity. There are some passages in this novel that recall the furious intensity of Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish, while other sections are reminiscent of the subtle, lyrical gifts of T. S. Eliot’s Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. It is not often that novelists bring poets to mind, but Osborne is a writer of such inestimable talent one cannot help but hear poems in her prose. Yet it is not just fascinating language that brings poets to mind. Like Eliot and Ginsberg, Osborne’s writing tackles timeless issues. Her novel is a poignant meditation on family, love, and loss wrapped in a plot that basically involves nothing more than a woman and a car. Here is a debut of a highly admirable order. From the humorous to the heartbreaking, these three novels make astounding debuts. So this new year, try some new authors. They won’t disappoint.

Charles Wyrick is a writer and musician living in Nashville.

A trio of fresh new voices If you are looking for ideas for New Year's resolutions, why not resolve to read something completely new this January? Though this might not sound like the wildest suggestion, let's face it, when was the last time you bought…

Review by

Bestselling young adult and children’s author Marie Rutkoski’s first novel for adult readers, Real Easy, begins by immersing us in the atmosphere of the Lovely Lady, a Midwestern strip club where the dancers are at once uninhibited and reticent, disserved by hurdles in their lives yet unapologetic about their desire to overcome them.

It’s 1999, and after her shift, Samantha Lind—stage name Ruby—decides to give a ride home to the club’s newest dancer, a misguided but cheerful young woman named Jolene, who calls herself Lady Jade. As they drive down a secluded road, Samantha’s car is run into a ditch by the driver behind them, and the police arrive to discover a dead body in one seat and evidence of a kidnapping in the other.

Solving the murder and disappearance remains at the forefront of Rutkoski’s novel, but it doesn’t overshadow the other plotlines, which include a dancer who yearns for a life she could’ve led, a police officer grappling with the loss of a child and another officer navigating moral dilemmas in the workplace. The multiple points of view reach far and wide, allowing readers to unfold the mystery alongside Rutkoski’s characters, some of whom are deeply embedded in the case, others merely on the outskirts.

There are no easy conclusions to be drawn from Real Easy, no clear-cut progression of events that allows the crime to be pieced together, but the novel’s fast pace mitigates the frustration this may cause. Rutkoski’s handling of time is masterful, and not one moment fails to meet its potential. Readers will find themselves rolling back the tape in their minds to seek out the patterns in the clues—the black paint from the car that hit Samantha and Jolene, the cut on the victim’s foot in the shape of a crown, the two phone calls to Samantha’s apartment in the middle of the night—before the climactic ending’s revelations.

Rutkoski skillfully handles the complexity of a group of individuals whose stories are rarely told, let alone told with so much humanity imbued into every detail.

Not one moment fails to meet its potential in Marie Rutkowski's masterful thriller, which immerses readers in the heady atmosphere of a Midwestern strip club.
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Virginia DeBerry and Donna Grant’s latest novel, Far From the Tree, is about three difficult women in the Frazier family: the proud Della and her daughters, Celeste and Ronnie, who find themselves, to their dismay, breathing the same air in the same house when they gather for the funeral of the family patriarch.

The title of the book is appropriate, since both sisters are as stubborn and unforthcoming as their mother, a woman whose tightlipped grief over her husband’s death is made worse when she discovers that her daughters have inherited a house in North Carolina that Della long ago signed over to her late husband. Della doesn’t want to think of this house ever again, and she considers disinheriting her daughters for wanting to go down South to check the place out. As the novel proceeds, we learn the reasons behind Della’s rage and witness the slow unfolding of the terrible memories the house holds for her.

On the way, the reader is treated to keenly drawn characters, including the three Frazier women and the people around them. Celeste, control freak and social climber, is a high school counselor known for the insight and compassion she gives to her students but withholds from her long suffering husband, college-age daughter, and her mother. Ronnie is a bitter, failed model whose moment of glory was on a billboard nearly two decades earlier. The authors give a remarkably adept description of Ronnie’s sad, struggling life in New York. Their portrayal of cramped, dingy, overpriced apartments, crazy or dangerous roommates, and the near-panic of a model whose looks are fading and who is always a paycheck away from eviction are realistic enough to make the reader cringe.

The three women treat each other with an almost reflexive incivility that makes the reader want to line them up against a wall and smack them, another mark of the authors’ skills. We even wonder how the recently deceased Will Frazier, who seemed a bumbling, gentle, and responsible man, put up with them. At the end, the women learn better, but their evolution is gradual and incomplete. That two authors could have put together such a seamless work is intriguing in itself. Far From The Tree is a convincing look at realistic flawed characters.

Arlene McKanic writes from Jamaica, New York.

Virginia DeBerry and Donna Grant's latest novel, Far From the Tree, is about three difficult women in the Frazier family: the proud Della and her daughters, Celeste and Ronnie, who find themselves, to their dismay, breathing the same air in the same house when they…

Review by

A trio of fresh new voices If you are looking for ideas for New Year’s resolutions, why not resolve to read something completely new this January? Though this might not sound like the wildest suggestion, let’s face it, when was the last time you bought a book by an unknown author? Thankfully, January is a good month to gamble on unknowns. Here’s a look a three debut novels definitely worth checking out in 2000. Interested in medieval settings? You know, stories with castles and serfs. Well, if you are, then The Testament of Yves Gundron (Farrar, Straus ∧ Giroux, $25, 0374221790) is right up your hedgerow. This debut by Emily Barton invites us into Mandragora, a small, medieval country located in the interior of a remote island. In Mandragora we meet Yves Gundron, a fairly ordinary peasant farmer. Yves works hard in the fields to support his family, and one day, in an inspired moment, he invents the harness, an implement that makes life just a little less difficult for himself and everyone else. But if the creation of the harness comes as a revelation to the Mandragorans, then you can only imagine what the appearance of Ruth Blum, an anthropologist from Boston does to this primitive society. In this imaginative first novel, Barton continually surprises us with her quirky plot changes. As you might have guessed, Mandragora turns out to be a secluded medieval society somehow forgotten by a world brimming with 20th-century conveniences. Her novel thus details the emotional and psychological upheaval of a community suddenly caught between the Middle Ages and modernity. Plot surprises aside, the real fun in this book lies in Barton’s take on the medieval mind. Written from Yves Gundron’s point of view, this clever novel pokes fun at the habits and suspicions of Mandragora’s backwards inhabitants. Burton deftly captures the dispositions of these charming simpletons as she sets them up for their shocking communal epiphany. This novel is a fine-tuned comedy well suited for fans of historical fiction. In an equally imaginative albeit less fantastical vein Zoe Heller’s debut takes a more serious look at life’s surprises. In Everything You Know Heller takes on the voice of an aging British writer convalescing from a heart attack in Mexico. Willy Muller is a man born to face hardship and suffering. Consequently he is a man who despises just about everything. A true misanthrope, Muller’s rage at the world manifests itself in his verbal and psychological abuse of those closest to him. His girlfriend, his agent, his nurses, and his few friends all bear the brunt of his caustic temperament. As author, Heller does an amazing job at capturing the acidity of this aging curmudgeon, but the overall power in this story comes from the unraveling of Muller’s life. Though Muller seems born to be bad, slowly we begin to understand him as a man born to experience sorrow.

Having lost his first wife in an accident for which he was blamed, Willy is completely estranged from his two daughters. During Willy’s convalescence we also discover that his youngest daughter, Sophie, has recently committed suicide.

Through a strange twist in fate, Willy finds himself in possession of Sophie’s diary. While recovering, he reads his daughter’s journal in an attempt to recapture something of her lost life. This is a heartbreaking tale told masterfully by a writer seemingly wise beyond her years. Heller writes convincingly from Muller’s point of view, but the real triumph here is the depth of her insight into the tragedy of this man’s life. For all the story’s bitterness, this is a truly engrossing book. Heller surely will be a writer to watch in years to come. Eliza Osborne’s debut, The Distance Between (Soho Press, $24, 1569471800), also takes a hard, sober look at family tragedy. Like Heller, Osborne captures a character who is forced to survey the more difficult terrain in life. This well-crafted novel follows Mattie Welsh as she travels by car to her parents’ home in Pennsylvania. Mattie’s elderly parents have been injured in a car accident. Osborne’s novel thus focuses on the inward monologue of a woman faced suddenly with her parent’s mortality. The Distance Between relates a stirring personal journey. Osborne’s writing is electrifying in its poetic intensity. There are some passages in this novel that recall the furious intensity of Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish, while other sections are reminiscent of the subtle, lyrical gifts of T. S. Eliot’s Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. It is not often that novelists bring poets to mind, but Osborne is a writer of such inestimable talent one cannot help but hear poems in her prose. Yet it is not just fascinating language that brings poets to mind. Like Eliot and Ginsberg, Osborne’s writing tackles timeless issues. Her novel is a poignant meditation on family, love, and loss wrapped in a plot that basically involves nothing more than a woman and a car. Here is a debut of a highly admirable order. From the humorous to the heartbreaking, these three novels make astounding debuts. So this new year, try some new authors. They won’t disappoint.

Charles Wyrick is a writer and musician living in Nashville.

A trio of fresh new voices If you are looking for ideas for New Year's resolutions, why not resolve to read something completely new this January? Though this might not sound like the wildest suggestion, let's face it, when was the last time you bought…

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How must it feel to be absolutely displaced, stripped of your beloved family and culture, in a faraway land? How does identity travel with you, and how is that identity transformed as you change? These questions are at the center of Louisa, a new novel by Simone Zelitch.

Like A Thousand Acres, the Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Jane Smiley, Louisa offers a modern interpretation of a classic story. While Smiley’s novel retells the story of King Lear and his daughters on the rolling green hills of Iowa farmland, Zelitch opts for an Old Testament tale. Louisa draws on the biblical story of Ruth, the Moabite princess who follows her Israelite mother-in-law to her homeland and adopts her religion. Zeltich moves the characters to post-war Europe, where a young German widow named Louisa follows her Hungarian mother-in-law, Nora, to Israel in 1949.

The novel begins with the arrival of two weary women in Israel. As Louisa helps Nora onto an Israeli refugee bus, she is immediately identified and stigmatized as a German by the bundled and traumatized Jewish passengers around her. The relationship between Nora and Louisa, and the struggles they face, become the focus of the novel. Zelitch’s motivation for writing came from a strong desire to explore the displacement and destruction of the Jewish people during and after World War II. As a teacher with the Peace Corps in Hungary, she sought answers to her questions about the Holocaust in the sturdy faces of her Hungarian students, in the abandoned and blown-out synagogues she struggled to comprehend, and in the fact that her town had a Jewish cemetery, but no living Jewish residents.

Louisa begins with a situation so open-ended, one wonders how the author will ever bring the ends together. The two women spend much of the novel trying to find Nora’s Zionist pioneer cousin Bela, who has founded a kibbutz. The steady voices of the characters hold the novel together, as memory leads through to memory again. Those voices hold the reader through the strange and unlikely tales of this fascinating book.

Amy Ryce writes from Charlottesville, Virginia.

How must it feel to be absolutely displaced, stripped of your beloved family and culture, in a faraway land? How does identity travel with you, and how is that identity transformed as you change? These questions are at the center of Louisa, a new novel…

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A trio of fresh new voices If you are looking for ideas for New Year’s resolutions, why not resolve to read something completely new this January? Though this might not sound like the wildest suggestion, let’s face it, when was the last time you bought a book by an unknown author? Thankfully, January is a good month to gamble on unknowns. Here’s a look a three debut novels definitely worth checking out in 2000. Interested in medieval settings? You know, stories with castles and serfs. Well, if you are, then The Testament of Yves Gundron is right up your hedgerow. This debut by Emily Barton invites us into Mandragora, a small, medieval country located in the interior of a remote island. In Mandragora we meet Yves Gundron, a fairly ordinary peasant farmer. Yves works hard in the fields to support his family, and one day, in an inspired moment, he invents the harness, an implement that makes life just a little less difficult for himself and everyone else. But if the creation of the harness comes as a revelation to the Mandragorans, then you can only imagine what the appearance of Ruth Blum, an anthropologist from Boston does to this primitive society. In this imaginative first novel, Barton continually surprises us with her quirky plot changes. As you might have guessed, Mandragora turns out to be a secluded medieval society somehow forgotten by a world brimming with 20th-century conveniences. Her novel thus details the emotional and psychological upheaval of a community suddenly caught between the Middle Ages and modernity. Plot surprises aside, the real fun in this book lies in Barton’s take on the medieval mind. Written from Yves Gundron’s point of view, this clever novel pokes fun at the habits and suspicions of Mandragora’s backwards inhabitants. Burton deftly captures the dispositions of these charming simpletons as she sets them up for their shocking communal epiphany. This novel is a fine-tuned comedy well suited for fans of historical fiction. In an equally imaginative albeit less fantastical vein Zoe Heller’s debut takes a more serious look at life’s surprises. In Everything You Know (Alfred A. Knopf, $22, 0375407243) Heller takes on the voice of an aging British writer convalescing from a heart attack in Mexico. Willy Muller is a man born to face hardship and suffering. Consequently he is a man who despises just about everything. A true misanthrope, Muller’s rage at the world manifests itself in his verbal and psychological abuse of those closest to him. His girlfriend, his agent, his nurses, and his few friends all bear the brunt of his caustic temperament. As author, Heller does an amazing job at capturing the acidity of this aging curmudgeon, but the overall power in this story comes from the unraveling of Muller’s life. Though Muller seems born to be bad, slowly we begin to understand him as a man born to experience sorrow.

Having lost his first wife in an accident for which he was blamed, Willy is completely estranged from his two daughters. During Willy’s convalescence we also discover that his youngest daughter, Sophie, has recently committed suicide.

Through a strange twist in fate, Willy finds himself in possession of Sophie’s diary. While recovering, he reads his daughter’s journal in an attempt to recapture something of her lost life. This is a heartbreaking tale told masterfully by a writer seemingly wise beyond her years. Heller writes convincingly from Muller’s point of view, but the real triumph here is the depth of her insight into the tragedy of this man’s life. For all the story’s bitterness, this is a truly engrossing book. Heller surely will be a writer to watch in years to come. Eliza Osborne’s debut, The Distance Between (Soho Press, $24, 1569471800), also takes a hard, sober look at family tragedy. Like Heller, Osborne captures a character who is forced to survey the more difficult terrain in life. This well-crafted novel follows Mattie Welsh as she travels by car to her parents’ home in Pennsylvania. Mattie’s elderly parents have been injured in a car accident. Osborne’s novel thus focuses on the inward monologue of a woman faced suddenly with her parent’s mortality. The Distance Between relates a stirring personal journey. Osborne’s writing is electrifying in its poetic intensity. There are some passages in this novel that recall the furious intensity of Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish, while other sections are reminiscent of the subtle, lyrical gifts of T. S. Eliot’s Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. It is not often that novelists bring poets to mind, but Osborne is a writer of such inestimable talent one cannot help but hear poems in her prose. Yet it is not just fascinating language that brings poets to mind. Like Eliot and Ginsberg, Osborne’s writing tackles timeless issues. Her novel is a poignant meditation on family, love, and loss wrapped in a plot that basically involves nothing more than a woman and a car. Here is a debut of a highly admirable order. From the humorous to the heartbreaking, these three novels make astounding debuts. So this new year, try some new authors. They won’t disappoint.

Charles Wyrick is a writer and musician living in Nashville.

A trio of fresh new voices If you are looking for ideas for New Year's resolutions, why not resolve to read something completely new this January? Though this might not sound like the wildest suggestion, let's face it, when was the last time you bought…

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