For many years, Lin has had to sacrifice her dream of having a successful career as a choreographer in favor of being a wife and mother. But when Lin is offered a job as a dance instructor in Mexico City, she abandons her husband and children and pursuits her dream. However, guilt courses through her body when she encounters abandoned children in the mean streets of Mexico. Will she leave it all behind and continue to pursue her career, or will the ties of motherhood bind her back with her children? The author of Mark of the Angel delivers another haunting and beautiful tale of love and sacrifice in Slow Emergencies. Her writing is poised and elegant, yet dark and disarming. The building of tension and emotion threaten to jump out of the pages as the flooring conclusion approaches. Nancy Huston hasn't let me down. I look forward to reading more of her work in the future.

Inhale the breathtaking simplicity. Savour the exquisite distilling of words and passions. Behold the condensed choreography of an artist's soul. No, Slow Emergencies is not a large book. It is, however, a vast, un-romanticized exploration of a life in art. The magnitude of its spirit spills far beyond the confines of the book's covers. The simplicity of the narrative can mislead some to think the book is about the protagonist's choice between career and family. Not so - this ostensible issue is the surface manifestation of a deeper struggle.

In Slow Emergencies, linguistic and structural sophistication is a canvas for the unfolding of timeless conflicts - between divine gifts and mortals, and between favoured mortals and society. Lin, the heroine of this book, does not choose. She is chosen. The novel presents a protagonist who, after much struggle to remain "normal" and to conform to the diktats of society, surrenders to her beckoning destiny. This is the thematic backbone of Slow Emergencies: we do not choose art - it chooses us. Fighting the honour of the gods is lethal. The only way to survive is to heed the calling. However, neither is there any quixotic notion of a blissful surrender into a joyous dance with the muses. Giving birth to Art (hence, all the conception and birth metaphors) is an agonizing process. The chosen ones are haunted, tormented with burning pain which drives them to the point of insanity, insists on claiming the body, reorganizes its cells and opens them up to the seeds of divine inspiration. Yes, Lin does make a choice, but not between career and family. She chooses life over death.

This book analyzes the effects of such a choice without apologizing for it. The society at large does not understand artists. It cannot, for they are different beings - half human, half divine messengers. Thus, once Lin escapes her suffocating normalcy, the spotlight of the book shifts away from her. Hence we are focused on her all-too-human abandoned family in Small Town, USA. We glimpse the great artist in sporadic tortured-blissful flashes. Humanity exists on the periphery of Inspiration. It is awed, dazzled and frightened by the distant, unfamiliar landscapes of Art. Except this artist happens to be a woman. And when the artist is a woman, humanity also condemns: "in these postfeminist times, it's a daring choice to write with tenderness about a woman who abandons her babies for her art." Was the critic reproaching the writer or the protagonist?

Nancy Huston's prose is subtle, elegant and has long been lauded and revered in Europe. Finally, she is being "discovered" here. Tolstoy, once penned the following in his journal, it is very apropos, both to the subject matter and to the writer of Slow Emergencies: "(Art) is a fire sparking up in a human soul. This fire burns, gives warmth and provides light. There are some people who experience the heat, others feel mere warmth, yet a third group only sees the light, and a forth group doesn't sense anything, not even the light. However the majority- the horde - the judges of (artists), don't feel the burning or the warmth, they only see the light. All of them think that the aim of (art) is only to enlighten. People, who think so, become (artists) themselves and walk around with a torch, illuminating lives... Others understand, that the essence is in the warmth, and they artificially warm up that, which is easily warmed ... But a real (artist) cannot force anything. Cannot help anything. Cannot orchestrate anything. He is ablaze, suffering, and he enflames others. And that is the crux of it."

"Prodigy" is a wonderful novella. It is a story about a loving mother,Lara, who tirelessly devotes her physical and emotional energy to her sweet, angelic daughter, Maya, and who, after "abandoned" by her husband and the sudden death of her own mother, eventually collapses in total exhaustion. Huston creates very realistic (and wonderful) characters that come to life and talk to you whenever you open the book. And the setting is so french(the story takes place in Paris) and real, that as you are reading the story, you feel like you are actually watching the characters from a street in Paris. Although the format of the prose is more like dialogues, or a screenplay, Huston's writing is still wonderful to read. I like this book because it is beautifully written, fresh, and powerful. Huston tells a story that shows that when a human being pushes himself/herself (or is pushed) beyond his/her own limit (physically, emotionally, or mentally), there could be very serious consequences. And it is always the miserable pain that Lara suffers, and the sweet innocence that Maya possesses, that always bring me back to the many images of the book.
"Prodigy" is highly recommended! And I promise you that the story's simple beauty will leave you enthralled!!!

Wonderfully crafted and portrayed. Huston uses a Thanksgiving dinner party as the setting for a richly layered story that recounts the lives of the guest in attendance. During the course of the evening, the story reveals the joys and tragedies that make up the life of each character. I thought Huston's choice of "God" as narrator is quite clever. An all knowing, all seeing, full of wisdom, narrator. That's an awful lot of narrative power! And she uses it well. Were it not for the "God" narrator the story could have come off scattered, as if pieced together helter-skelter by a writer with good imagination but poor organization. Instead, the novel reads with ease and efficiency using the joy or misfortune in one character's life to launch a story portraying the joy or misfortune in another's. The novel supports the belief that all human beings are connected, and to some extent, that our fate, really, is not in our own hands. That God does indeed have a wicked sense of humor.

"Dolce Agonia" is a very well done book and an excellent introduction to a new writer. Enjoy!

Those were my feelings after finishing "Dolce Agonia" and writing the above review. The review was based on my initial reaction to the author's writing style and narrative device. Those aspects of the novel I genuinely enjoyed. However, immediately after writing the review, I felt conflicted, uneasy with the review but comfortable with what I'd said. I returned to the novel to reread specific sections that I'd marked with post-it notes. Slowly, the sources of my conflict begin to surface. I had been distracted by style, technique and an all too willing surrender of a critical eye to the all powerful all knowing narrator. Upon second reading and some reflection, I begin to realize that at the seat of my discontent with Huston's text is her use of black characters and symbolism to evoke meaning based on stereotypes about race. The black characters may not be the only one's in the novel that fell victim to the author's race-constrained imagination but I was particularly bothered by her unconscious assault on the African American race.

Case in point. The first black character that is introduced in the novel is Charles. The author describes him as "an elegant black man" immediately. A poet, well learned, well known yet distanced from his race. We learn through the narrator that Sean, the evening's host, took an immediate liking to Charles because, "though celebrated from coast to coast . . .", Charles "refused to teach a course in African American poetry". His refusal was not to teach only African American poetry, but "a course". The fact that teaching African American poetry is completely rejected by an African American poet serves to separate Charles immediately from the race to which he belongs. It appears to me that here Huston is unable to imagine a renowned, African American poet, teaching African American poetry. As if the inclusion of this genre of poetry lessens the accomplishments of the would be teacher. Only a few sentences later, we learn perhaps, why Charles' separation from his race is needed: he's married to a white woman. Although I find nothing problematic with the marriage, I find it interesting that the author reveals Myrna's (wife) race not directly through the narrator (e.g. "an elegant black man), but through another black character.

Within the span of fifteen lines, the author portrays an angry, bitter, revengeful Myrna. "I'm gonna throw the book at you!" . . ."You murdered me!" . . . "You murdered my love for you!" . . ."Its over!" . . ."You're a dead [expletive] duck!" These are the statements bulleted through the telephone to her husband, a clear measure of Myrna's rage and pain. What, you may ask, could Charles have done to evoke venom of that magnitude? " . . . a single afternoon spent in a hotel room exploring the luscious brown body of Anita Darven. . .". With this single sentence, I knew immediately that Myrna was white. In this case, Huston uses racial coloring and "sinful but delicious sensuality"* to not only justify Mryna's furry but also to inform the reader of Mryna's race. For what other reason would Anita need to be "luscious and brown"? Why is Anita's color important here? Why doesn't the narrator directly inform us of Myrna's race as he does with Charles'? Why is the author withholding Myrna's race, only thirty some pages into the novel, but reveals it directly much later in the book? These are the types of inquiries that deserve contemplation by the reader and self-examination by the author. Charles wrestles with internal racial conflict throughout the novel in much the same way that Huston struggles with conveying her black characters - moments of clarity, periods of confusion. I've thoroughly documented many instances (much worse than this example) in the novel of Huston's race constrained imagination as far as black characters are concerned. Unfortunately the analysis is too long for Amazon.com review requirements; however, I will send the entire critique to whoever request it. I can be contacted at mauricewms@aol.com.

While I do take Huston to task on the workings of her literary imagination, I do realize that she operates within a fully racialized world where stereotypes abound. It is challenging to free the imagination in such an environment but I give a nod to Huston for at least including a racial diverse cast of characters and wrestling with portraying those characters realistically. A really ironic aspect of the novel is that Charle's youngest child is named after Toni Morrison because "Myrna, unlike Charles, revered the novelist Toni Morrison." Even though Huston acknowledges Morrison in the text, its obvious she is not informed by her literary critic titled "Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination" *. It is precisely this essay that prompted me to read below the surface of good writing and clever technique.

Hard to believe that a book that truly makes you feel the pain of its protagonists can be so sweet. The structure is nothing short of brilliant with the constant juxtaposing of a chapter where you meet and get to know the participants of Sean's Thanksgiving gathering with one prophesizing their(sometimes)sorrowful fates. A real tour de force that hopefully will be read by many.

I got this book as a gift from my mother who thought I would enjoy it and she was right. I didn't want to put it down and read it in 2 days. A wonderful read!

I liked this book very much. It explores surviving WWII from a different perspective than I've read before. The reader empathizes with both the German and the Holocaust survivor. Rather than dwell on the horrors of their experiences, the book describes their emotional adaptation. I found the writing style awkward at times, especially the author's presence, however, it provides an easy way to incorporate a modern viewpoint and historic context. It is a fairly quick read and very captivating. I don't think the book has received the attention it deserves. It was interesting to read The Mark of the Angel immediately after finishing After Long Silence (Fremont) and Homestead (Lippi). After Long Silence is about people who have buried their experiences during the Holocaust completely -- after passing as Catholic for many years, their daughters force the truth (that they are Jewish) into the open. The book goes into detail about the parents' stories and the emotional effects of exposing the truth. War plays more of a background role in Homestead, which tells the story of multiple generations of women living in rural Austria, but the effects of war clearly mark the characters. Homestead was definitely my favorite of the three books -- it is incredibly beautifully crafted. Some of the stories told and pictures of the landscape will stay with me for a long time.

A story of forbidden love in post-war Paris between two people damaged in different ways by the Holocaust--you've read it before. But Huston's book is a cut above--beautifully written from multiple perspectives, Huston describes Paris, love, music and above all, anger and shock over infidelity discovered, so strongly and vividly--this one has stayed in my mind for awhile. And the conclusion was a brutal shock! Of particular interest to me was the backdrop of the French--Algerian issues--as England had India, France had Algeria--a painful, shameful episode in the history of a Western democracy that has permanently marred France's conception of itself.

The setting of 'The Mark of the Angel' is in Paris, 1957. It's a story of two people from different backgrounds (she is German, he is French) who meet and marry. But the recent past of World War II and the current rising violence, which eventually leads to the independence of Algeria, shape the attitude of these two characters into a disastrous climax.

The seemingly simple style of this story could make some readers believe that it's just a 'pulp romance' novel -- there are, however, layers of psychological levels to the characters and a complexity in the way setting and storyline are entwined together that make this novel far from being simplistic or a 'pulp romance' novel. Saffie, the female protagonist, is a difficult character to read -- and agreeably unpleasant at times -- and that's why makes the story even more intriguing; we are not dealing with nice and 'normal' cardboard cut-out characters, where everything is beautiful and everyone holds hands at the end of the story.

This book is not a lovely love story, but a character study on how war tears down the fabric of human nature, how it effects everyone for years to come, even for genertations to come -- it a story about confusion, betrayal, jealousy and revenge. Nancy Huston has done a wonderful at showing how difficult it can be to deal with the world around us, and how sometimes human behaviour can be misinterpreted by those who live in a protected world.

'The Mark of the Angel' is a disturbing tale of passion and survival, which makes the reader reflect on the humand condition long after the book has been read. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.