optmst's review against another edition
2.0
A good book, well written descriptions, thought provoking, and about 100 pages too long.
serenaac's review against another edition
3.0
The Tell by Hester Kaplan unfolds like a stop-motion movie, one frame at a time, and in that movie there are flashes of the past. Owen Brewer’s attention is easily swayed from one subject and one moment to another, breathing in both the past and present of his life, while at the same time observing the behaviors and ticks of others. His marriage to Mira Thrasher is modern and telling, especially in how they introduce themselves to the new neighbor and former actor Wilton Deere. Their marriage does not seem to be on solid ground, just from the way Owen watches the interaction of his wife and Wilton and thinks about reclaiming her in the most instinctual way. Owen is tough to take and analyzes a great many things much more than other people would, while Mira is more a take-it-as-is girl and enjoys the moments, while not watching for the sky to fall. Meanwhile, Wilton is trying to reconnect with his daughter, but in the process clings to this married couple next door because he longs to be loved and hated.
Read the full review: http://savvyverseandwit.com/2013/01/the-tell-by-hester-kaplan.html
Read the full review: http://savvyverseandwit.com/2013/01/the-tell-by-hester-kaplan.html
heat_her's review against another edition
3.0
savaging's review
2.0
"It was the essential problem of two -- one would always leave first. That inevitability had hung over them from the beginning."
The book is a primer on all the problems of monogamy and its attendant attempts to possess another person. As such, it is insightful. Except there's never any hope for escape -- everyone is caged without a key, from beginning to end. This isn't a reason in itself to dislike the book. Maybe it's just that jealousy as a plot device fails for me these days, leaving me only irritated. This haggard wish to control another person, to never share any part of them with another person or place or object, never allow them a sense of happiness or satisfaction or completion that doesn't center on you: surprise, it makes everyone miserable. With Owen, a possessive husband, as narrator, this proximity to jealousy makes me squirm, leaves me feeling like Mira, trying to get a little air here, wanting to leave the book like she wants to leave the house. It's like reading Robert Browning's poem "My Last Duchess" for several hundred pages. Except this Duchess is jealous in return -- the one thing she wants more than freedom is for her husband not to have it.
I was also uncomfortable about the sense of menace and violence in the book. The book's focus is the (white) heiresses and movie stars with big houses, incidentally intruded-upon by the "urban" element of the black and the homeless. The criminal element -- lock your doors. Happily, the plot line avoids some kind of racist morality tale by showing how the real monsters and threats are internal to the suburbs and the hearts housed in them.
In the end, maybe the only reason I disliked the book is because all of the characters are assholes, except for Edward and Katherine. The real poignant question of the book would be what it feels like to be a kind and interesting person and have everyone else, including your own children, be selfish and cruel. Unfortunately this isn't explored.
The book is a primer on all the problems of monogamy and its attendant attempts to possess another person. As such, it is insightful. Except there's never any hope for escape -- everyone is caged without a key, from beginning to end. This isn't a reason in itself to dislike the book. Maybe it's just that jealousy as a plot device fails for me these days, leaving me only irritated. This haggard wish to control another person, to never share any part of them with another person or place or object, never allow them a sense of happiness or satisfaction or completion that doesn't center on you: surprise, it makes everyone miserable. With Owen, a possessive husband, as narrator, this proximity to jealousy makes me squirm, leaves me feeling like Mira, trying to get a little air here, wanting to leave the book like she wants to leave the house. It's like reading Robert Browning's poem "My Last Duchess" for several hundred pages. Except this Duchess is jealous in return -- the one thing she wants more than freedom is for her husband not to have it.
I was also uncomfortable about the sense of menace and violence in the book. The book's focus is the (white) heiresses and movie stars with big houses, incidentally intruded-upon by the "urban" element of the black and the homeless. The criminal element -- lock your doors. Happily, the plot line avoids some kind of racist morality tale by showing how the real monsters and threats are internal to the suburbs and the hearts housed in them.
In the end, maybe the only reason I disliked the book is because all of the characters are assholes, except for Edward and Katherine. The real poignant question of the book would be what it feels like to be a kind and interesting person and have everyone else, including your own children, be selfish and cruel. Unfortunately this isn't explored.
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