From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. At the beginning of Oates's 36th novel, Rebecca Schwart is mistaken by a seemingly harmless man for another woman, Hazel Jones, on a footpath in 1959 Chatauqua Falls, N.Y. Five hundred pages later, Rebecca will find out that the man who accosted her is a serial killer, and Oates will have exercised, in a manner very difficult to forget, two of her recurring themes: the provisionality of identity and the awful suddenness of male violence. There's plenty of backstory, told in retrospect. Rebecca's parents escape from the Nazis with their two sons in 1936; Rebecca is born in the boat crossing over. When Rebecca is 13, her father, Jacob, a sexton in Milburn, N.Y., kills her mother, Anna, and nearly kills Rebecca, before blowing his own head off. At the time of the footpath crossing, Rebecca is just weeks away from being beaten, almost to death, by her husband, Niles Tignor (a shady traveling beer salesman). She and son Niley flee; she takes the name of the woman for whom she has been recently mistaken and becomes Hazel Jones. Niley, a nine-year-old with a musical gift, becomes Zacharias, "
a name from the bible," Rebecca tells people. Rebecca's Hazel navigates American norms as a waitress, salesperson and finally common-law wife of the heir of the Gallagher media fortune, a man in whom she never confides her past. Oates is our finest novelistic tracker, following the traces of some character's flight from or toward some ultimate violence with forensic precision. There are allusions here to the mythic scouts of James Fenimore Cooper's
Leatherstocking Tales, who explored the same New York territory when it was primeval woods. Many of the passages are a lot like a blown-up photo of a bruise—ugly without seeming to have a point. Yet the traumatic pattern of the hunter and the hunted, unfolded in Rebecca/Hazel's lifelong escape, never cripples Hazel: she is liberated, made crafty, deepened by her ultimately successful flight. Like Theodore Dreiser, Oates wears out objections with her characters, drawn in an explosive vernacular. Everything in this book depends on Oates' ability to bring a woman before the reader who is deeply veiled—whose real name is unknown even to herself—and she does it with epic panache.
(June) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
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*Starred Review* Some of Oates' novels are tightly focused; others cover a larger social canvas.
he Gravedigger's Daughter is a hybrid of the two. Set in Oates country (poor, working-class, rural New York State), it is a first-person tale told from Oates' signature point of view, that of a young woman in peril, and encompasses one immigrant family's tragedies during the Holocaust. Oates' intense narrator is born on the boat that carried her parents away from Nazi Germany, so Rebecca has never seen her parents happy. All she knows is the gloom of their mausoleumlike stone hovel beside the cemetery her father maintains. Oates evokes the bleak horrors of Thomas Hardy in scenes of suffering and denial as Rebecca's increasingly enraged father insists that they are not Jewish, even as her mother grieves over lost relatives. Madness and bloodshed erupt, and Rebecca is left alone in the world, destitute and uneducated. But she is smart and very strong, surviving her passionate liaison with Niles Tignor, one of Oates' most seductive and diabolical outlaws, and finding her calling in caring for her son, a musical prodigy. Oates is supremely atmospheric, erotic, and suspenseful in this virtuoso novel of identity, power, and moral reckoning.
Donna SeamanCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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