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      Edna O’Brien: An Appreciation

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      Decades before Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels, the Irish writer Edna O’Brien — who died at 93 on July 27 — provided her own searing portraits of an oppressive, violent society seen through the prism of female friendship.When we first meet them in 1960’s “The Country Girls,” Kate and Baba are teenagers, dreaming of a future beyond the confines of their rural Irish village and strict convent school. Its sequels — “Girl With Green Eyes” (1962), and the ironically-titled “Girls in Their Married Bliss” (1964) — follow them through their first taste of womanhood in Dublin, then to London, where they struggle to reconcile their romantic fantasies with the frustrations of real marital life.O’Brien was 29 when “The Country Girls” was published, living with two young sons and her then-husband, the writer Ernest Gébler, in a small house in a bleak south London suburb to which they’d moved, two years earlier, from Ireland. The novel took her only three weeks to write, the words having “tumbled out,” as she recalled in her 2012 memoir, “Country Girl,” “like the oats on threshing day that tumble down the shaft, the hard pellets of oats funneled into bags and the chaff flying everywhere, getting into the men’s eyes and their having to shout to be heard above the noise of the machine.”Although tame by today’s social mores, and praised on its publication by the English press, “The Country Girls” — with its candid portrayal of female sexuality and extramarital romance — sent shock waves through Ireland, where it was denounced by the church and banned by the Irish censorship board as “indecent.” Copies were even publicly burned.Overnight, O’Brien became Ireland’s most notorious exiled daughter, and its foremost chronicler of female experience. “No writer in English is so good at putting the reader inside the skin of a woman,” praised The Evening Standard of her fourth novel, “August Is a Wicked Month,” the story of a divorced mother aflame with desire. She “gave voice to a previously muzzled generation of Irish women,” declared the novelist Eimear McBride.O’Brien’s Ireland is “a land of shame, a land of murder and a land of strange sacrificial women,” as she describes it in her short story “A Scandalous Woman.” She describes how paternal violence — sanctioned by the misogynistic power of the Catholic Church — is woven into the fabric of life. Violence against women is an ordinary, everyday occurrence, as is their propensity to be punished for their sins.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Gail Lumet Buckley, Chronicler of Black Family History, Dies at 86

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      She wrote two books about multiple generations of her forebears, including her mother, Lena Horne.Gail Lumet Buckley, who rather than follow her mother, Lena Horne, into show business, wrote two multigenerational books about their ambitious Black middle-class family, died on July 18 at her home in Santa Monica, Calif. She was 86.Her daughter Jenny Lumet, a screenwriter and film and television producer, said the cause was heart failure.Mrs. Buckley was inspired to chronicle her family history in the early 1980s, when her mother asked her to store an old trunk in her basement. It had belonged to Ms. Horne’s father, Edwin Jr., known as Teddy, and contained hundreds of artifacts that had belonged to relatives dating back six generations, to Sinai Reynolds, who had been born into slavery around 1777 and who in 1859 bought her freedom and that of members of her family.“There were photographs, letters, bills, notes,” Mrs. Buckley told The New York Times in a joint interview with her mother in 1986, as well as “speakeasy tickets, gambling receipts, college diplomas.”Those disparate paper fragments of history helped her structure “The Hornes: An American Family” (1986).Mrs. Buckley was inspired to chronicle her family history when she discovered, in an old trunk, hundreds of artifacts that had belonged to relatives dating back six generations.Alfred A. KnopfWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      From Naples to New Orleans, Murder and Mayhem

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      This month’s column is all about firsts — debut authors, new series beginnings or both. I make it a point to pick up books by new authors whenever I can. Sure, there’s pleasure to be had in discovering someone 10 books into a series and binge-reading them all, but I like embracing promising careers at the ground level, too.MAY THE WOLF DIE (Penguin Books, 359 pp., paperback, $20), the first book from Elizabeth Heider, a physicist and former U.S. Navy research analyst, bowled me over with its descriptions of Naples — seedy, beautiful, baroque — and the trials and tribulations of its main character, Nikki Serafino. Nikki, a liaison between the local police and the American military, works in a unit called Phoenix Seven where the men, when they aren’t “barraging her with sex jokes,” undermine and condescend to her at every turn. Nikki, “short and compact and muscular with a dynamic, interesting face,” can handle them just fine, thank you very much.Then, within 24 hours, she stumbles across two bodies. The first, submerged in water, is an American naval officer, and the other has connections to the military base, too. The investigation unfolds with all manner of surprises, and Nikki, to the chagrin of her Neapolitan colleagues, will be the one to solve it.Delia Pitts begins a new series with TROUBLE IN QUEENSTOWN (Minotaur, 312 pp., $28), which introduces Vandy Myrick. A private detective who’s recently returned to her New Jersey hometown, she’s working in the shadow of her former cop father, who now has dementia, and grieving the death of her daughter, Monica. The sleepy Queenstown that Vandy remembers as a child has changed; it’s now a nest of secrets, teeming with corruption and bigotry.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      2 Los Angeles Novels as Stylish and Wild as the City Itself

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      Elizabeth Stromme’s noir about a writer for hire; Karen Tei Yamashita’s magic realist dystopia.Beth Coller for The New York TimesDear readers,A few years ago I interviewed a writer who in a past life worked as a transcriber for people who had suffered traumatic brain injuries. Listening over and over to patients describe life-changing pain, she realized their realities bordered on the supernatural, and that adopting language more commonly found in science fiction or fantasy was the most honest way to convey their distress.I thought of her earlier this summer, around the time I realized my knowledge of the Los Angeles literary canon was basically nonexistent. It was stupid I’d never thought to approach the city — which despite my years of visiting family there has never felt like terra firma — through novels. The books I recommend today are both set in the region, but that’s almost incidental. More important: They convey a sense of place that had previously eluded me, using fantastical, intentionally stylistic language, and somehow rank among the truest things I’ve read.—Joumana“Joe’s Word: An Echo Park Novel,” by Elizabeth StrommeFiction, 2003This unsung stunner could credibly be called “pre-gentrification noir” — two words I wouldn’t normally put in the same room together, let alone the same clause.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      A Poet Goes to War

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      Deep in the sweltering jungles of Myanmar this spring, a rebel commander stood in front of 241 recruits for Day 1 of basic training. The troops — part of a resistance fighting an unpopular military dictatorship — were organized in rows by height, starting at less than five feet tall. A spotted dog patrolled the ragged lines before settling in the dirt for a snooze.The commander, Ko Maung Saungkha, has raised an army of 1,000 soldiers. But his background is not military. Instead, he is a poet, one of at least three who are leading rebel forces in Myanmar and inspiring young people to fight on the front lines of the brutal civil war.“In our revolution, we need everyone to join, even poets,” Mr. Maung Saungkha said.He amended his statement.“Especially poets,” he added.To his new recruits, though, Mr. Maung Saungkha delivered a lecture devoid of literary embellishments. The soldiers, roughly half from Yangon, the largest city in Myanmar, may have been lured by his social media presence, curated to appeal to romantic notions of resistance, or by the junta’s ordering conscription for all young men and women in the country. But no rhyming couplet — no matter how deft — would save them in battle. For that, they had to learn how to shoot and fight.The jungle simmered. Over the next few hours in Myanmar’s eastern Karen State, more than a dozen enlistees would collapse from the heat, exhaustion or simply nerves. Ko Rakkha, Mr. Maung Saungkha’s chief drill sergeant, kept the soldiers moving. Otherwise, he said, they would not be ready for the front lines in three months’ time.“Whether you’re a doctor or a lawyer or a poet, forget your past, forget your pride,” said Mr. Rakkha, himself a poet. “The point of training is to learn how not to die.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      A Queer Mountain Lion Leaps From the Page to the Little Island Stage

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      Henry Hoke’s 2023 novel, “Open Throat,” narrated by an animal in peril in the Hollywood Hills, is adapted for a staged reading.The concept behind Henry Hoke’s 2023 novel, “Open Throat,” is an eyebrow-raising one: It’s a story about overdevelopment and climate change narrated by a mountain lion who muses on the lives of hikers and loved ones.Hoke was loosely inspired by the mountain lion known as P-22 whose regular sightings in the hills surrounding Los Angeles’s Hollywood sign, successful crossing of two freeways and eventual death captured the public’s attention in 2022. In “Open Throat,” according to the book’s publisher, the animal identifies as queer, and uses they and them pronouns.The book is “what fiction should be,” the novelist Marie-Helene Bertino wrote in her review for The New York Times, and it made several end-of-year best-of lists and awards shortlists.With an internal monologue that has poetically broken stanzas and a fluid sense of time and reality, “Open Throat” does not immediately call for theatrical adaptation. Yet a staged version of the work is premiering Wednesday as part of Little Island’s ambitious summer series of live performances at its outdoor amphitheater.The narration is divided among three performers, including Chris Perfetti, who is holding the book, and Calvin Leon Smith. “I think the beauty of it, and the reason we’re intentionally having three different voices, is making it universal,” Perfetti said.Jeenah Moon for The New York Times“It reads beautifully,” Zack Winokur, Little Island’s producing artistic director, said of the book. “The way it’s placed on the page is visually interesting. The way the voice exists is not like anything else. I kept thinking that it being so voice-driven would make an amazing show, and I didn’t know how to do it, which is the greatest thing in the world.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Try to Find the 12 Books Hidden in This Text

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      The famished road warriors drove down the cold mountain highway and across the bridge into the town. The September sun was setting and it was time to stop, as Benny’s increasing night blindness made him leery about driving late and his eyes still stung from a thousand acres of grass pollen. The ancient rental car was also wheezing like a mean spirit was trapped inside the engine.Aleksandar pulled out the notebook with his mother’s list of local tips. “Let’s try the Blue Flower Hotel — there’s a basement jazz lounge called Underworld there and maybe we can pick up a gig and dinner.”Benny parked the car and grabbed his saxophone. “I know this is your homeland, but at least I’m a native speaker in the universal language of music.”The famished road warriors drove down the cold mountain highway and across the bridge into the town. The September sun was setting and it was time to stop, as Benny’s increasing night blindness made him leery about driving late and his eyes still stung from a thousand acres of grass pollen. The ancient rental car was also wheezing like a mean spirit was trapped inside the engine.Aleksandar pulled out the notebook with his mother’s list of local tips. “Let’s try the Blue Flower Hotel — there’s a basement jazz lounge called Underworld there and maybe we can pick up a gig and dinner.”Benny parked the car and grabbed his saxophone. “I know this is your homeland, but at least I’m a native speaker in the universal language of music.”The famished road warriors drove down the cold mountain highway and across the bridge into the town. The September sun was setting and it was time to stop, as Benny’s increasing night blindness made him leery about driving late and his eyes still stung from a thousand acres of grass pollen. The ancient rental car was also wheezing like a mean spirit was trapped inside the engine.Aleksandar pulled out the notebook with his mother’s list of local tips. “Let’s try the Blue Flower Hotel — there’s a basement jazz lounge called Underworld there and maybe we can pick up a gig and dinner.”Benny parked the car and grabbed his saxophone. “I know this is your homeland, but at least I’m a native speaker in the universal language of music.” More