in dancelike rhythms that sweep the story along. She builds a complex character in Vidya, whose urge toward autonomy brings results that range from ecstatic to tragic. A young woman seeks freedom through art in a mesmerizing coming-of-age story.
THE ESCAPEMENT
Tidhar, Lavie Tachyon (256 pp.) $16.95 paper | Sep. 21, 2021 978-1-61696-327-9 Tidhar’s latest offering transports readers to a liminal otherworld of spaghetti Western pastiche. Somewhere, in some city, a nameless man attends his dying son’s bedside, powerless to save the boy. Desperate to find a cure, he slips into the Escapement: a Western world of maniacal
whimsy populated by bounty hunters, stone giants, mimes, and clowns. Here, the ghost of John Wayne Gacy becomes a bloodthirsty giant, and P.T. Barnum is recast as a clown-enslaving general. The man, known in the Escapement as the Stranger, is not alone; most of the people in this weird desert come there from the real world by way of dream, drink, or death. Studded with features like the Big Rock Candy Mountains and the Desert de Soleil, the land bears intimate connections to the dying boy in the hospital bed—a boy who loves the circus and its clowns— and it’s here that the Stranger hopes to find his son a panacea: Ur-shanabi, the Plant of Heartbeat. In keeping with its roots in midcentury Westerns, Tidhar’s novel casts the Escapement’s clowns as Native American analogs, turning the Stranger into their White savior and avenger, a man who knows that “one should never be unkind to clowns.” The author draws from an eclectic mix of sources to create a dazzling story that is more than the sum of its parts, and much of the fun of reading it comes from recognizing its homages. Knowledgeable readers will notice shades of Stephen King, Lewis Carroll, and West world here, and Tidhar himself cites Z. Ariel’s fairy tale, “The Heart of the Golden Flower,” the Epic of Gilgamesh, Salvador Dalí, tarot cards, and Sergio Leone as particular sources of inspiration. A delightfully cacophonous novel, teeming with character.
FIGHT NIGHT
Toews, Miriam Bloomsbury (272 pp.) $24.00 | Oct. 5, 2021 978-1-63557-817-1 The author of Women Talking (2018) lets a 9-year-old girl have her say. The first thing to know about this novel is that it’s narrated by a child writing to her father, who seems to have abandoned her and her pregnant mother. The novel-as-long-letter can often feel gimmicky, it’s difficult to craft a child’s voice that is both authentic and compelling, and it would not be unreasonable for readers to be wary of a book that attempts both. Readers familiar with Toews, however, may guess—correctly—that she’s quite capable of meeting the formal challenges she’s set for herself. “Mom is afraid of losing her mind and killing herself but Grandma says she’s nowhere near losing her mind and killing herself.” This is Swiv talking. “Grandpa and Auntie Momo killed themselves, and your dad is somewhere else, those things are true.” This is Swiv’s Grandma talking. “But we’re here! We are all here now.” This exchange captures the central concerns of this charming, open-hearted book. Swiv’s mother—an actor—is a bundle of angst, rage, and stifled ambition. Swiv’s grandmother, on the other hand, is the embodiment of joie de vivre, and it’s Grandma with whom Swiv spends most of her time, filling the roles of caretaker and (sometimes reluctant) accomplice. Grandma is the type of person who befriends everyone she meets and who finds the joy in even the most ridiculous and—to her granddaughter—mortifying 30
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1 august 2021
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fiction
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kirkus.com
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