A spine-tingling, intricate tale of love, betrayal, and psychological gamesmanship in the wake of 9/11.
Publishers WeeklyShiftless and broke, thieving drifter Henry gets involved with a gang of faux assassins in Hunt's intensely cerebral third novel. Written in an intentionally mystifying fashion ("Falsification," says one character, "sits at the center of everything"), the novel, set in a shell-shocked post 9/11 Manhattan, alternates between two narratives: in one, Henry joins a group, led by the mysterious Mr. Kindt, that stages fake murders for money; in the other, Henry resides in a psychiatric hospital, where Mr. Kindt visits him daily and encourages him to earn money by stealing pharmaceuticals. In both story lines, Henry tries unsuccessfully to sort through layers of deception to learn about Kindt's past. It is possible that Henry's life as a fake hired gun is imagined during his hospital stay; it is equally possible that both lives are occurring simultaneously, as Hunt makes obfuscation one of his chief objectives. A wan love interest develops with tattoo artist Tulip (an echo of the hospital's Dr. Tulp), but it is mostly motivated by Henry's desire to discover why Tulip would want to "tussle" with him. This noir labyrinth captures the post-9/11 gestalt of anxiety and hopelessness. (Sept.) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Library JournalIn Hunt's (Indiana, Indiana) latest, Henry is down on his luck when a new opportunity arises: committing mock murders for the mysterious Aris Kindt and his beautiful associate, Tulip. Is this the same Aris Kindt as the hanged criminal being operated on in Rembrandt's famous painting, The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp? Or are Henry and Kindt both patients in a mental hospital, and is Tulip really Dr. Tulp? Which of either of these never-quite-intersecting narratives are we to believe, or should we believe anything at all? Does the final chapter resolve either or both scenarios? Maybe. The only thing of which we can be sure is that Kindt loves creamed herring on crackers and that Henry develops a taste for it. But can you get creamed herring in a mental hospital? Hmmm. Is this a new postmodern classic? Maybe. Should you buy it for your library? Maybe, if you are a medium-to-large academic or public library. In fact, probably so, which is more probability than you will find in Hunt's novel. Bring your suspension of disbelief and negative capability on this wild literary trip.-Jim Dwyer, California State Univ. Lib., Chico Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus ReviewsThe namesake of a 17th-century thief helms a fake murder ring in New York's East Village. Henry, a young man whom the big city has chewed up and spit out, meets a tall Dutch-like beauty named Tulip, who leads him to Aris Kindt, who lifted his name from the cadaver subject of Rembrandt's The Anatomy Lesson. In homage to the late W.G. Sebald's The Rings of Saturn, Hunt (Indiana, Indiana, 2003, etc.) makes ekphrastic use of book and painting as templates for a danse macabre, a mannered gavotte featuring Kindt's ersatz murder posse: a near-bionic woman known only as "knockout"; contortionist twins; a failed faux murderer named Anthony or Job; and Cornelius, Kindt's henchman from way back, to a certain night on Lake Otsego. Against a backdrop of post-9/11 upheaval-black netting on windows is a leitmotif-present and past conflate. A hospital that houses homeless Henry after he's hit by a florist's van segues seamlessly into an institution for the criminally insane. Entranced by his new mentor's courtly persona, his crackers and talismanic herring spread, his tales of the Dutch theft of New York and his air of soft-spoken menace, Henry quickly becomes chief "executioner," and there are hints that one victim, Kindt's accountant, may have actually died. Facts are provisional; only questions propel the plot. What are the origins of Kindt's identity and prosperity? How will Kindt's fake murder devolve into a real murder for which Henry is framed? Although the work deliberately subverts linearity and relies on a stylishly down-at-heels East Village for much of its resonance, Sebald-concordance and elegant gimmickry do the heavy lifting. Hunt's lapidary dialogue, sharpobservation and penchant for enlivening character with a few deft strokes might be better showcased in a less meta-fictional straitjacket. An author to watch once he "murders" his mentors.
- Coffee House Press
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- 5.00(w) x 7.50(h) x 0.70(d)
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