South Florida Sun-Sentinel (Sunday)
Immigrants make films amid WWII
Anthony Marra’s sweeping new novel, “Mercury Pictures Presents,” follows an eclectic group of European immigrants in California during World War II who are forced to contend with their government’s changing views of their loyalty and their utility.
At the time, Franklin D. Roosevelt’s policies treated “resident aliens” as extensions of the enemies overseas, subjecting legal immigrants and unnaturalized foreigners alike to proscriptions such as curfews and imprisonment in internment camps. All of Marra’s characters are connected to Mercury Pictures International, a second-rate Hollywood studio founded by Artie and Ned Feldman, twin brothers who came to the U.S. from Silesia in 1901.
Artie’s assistant, Maria Lagana, 28, sees to the studio’s day-to-day management. Maria’s story line is the novel’s most robust and rewarding. She and her mother leave Rome as political exiles in 1931. Maria and her mother go to LA, where they live with her great-aunts, a trio straight out of central casting who provide both color and comic relief.
The first half of the novel has freighted moments, but America still seems to present the opportunities that so many believe she holds. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Mercury is employed for propagandistic purposes, even as its employees are forced to curtail their freedoms.
The plot grows unwieldy as it spins off in myriad directions, with Marra seemingly so invested in his subject that he sketches extended arcs for every incidental character. It makes for a rich world, but one that feels unfocused.
The novel keeps returning to Maria, resolving her various struggles against the employer, family and country who variously question her value. And Marra maintains a light touch throughout, because this is Hollywood after all, and entertainment is Paramount — or should I say Mercury. — Cory Oldweiler, Minneapolis Star Tribune
Anders wakes up to find he’s no longer white.
After confiding in his friend, Oona, the two discover this is not an isolated case; all over town and beyond, white people are finding their skin suddenly turning dark.
Mohsin Hamid’s “The Last White Man” follows the experiences of Anders and Oona as their perceptions change along with their appearances.
They’re ordinary people with unexceptional jobs living unremarkable lives until the unexplained darkening of white people’s skin turns society on its head.
Reminiscent of the real, pandemic-battered world, the mysterious change spurs panicked tribalism and manic internet conspiracy theories.
The story is told in a third-person limited point of view that flips between Anders and Oona, sometimes migrating to Oona’s mom or Anders’ dad, who become important characters aiding broader conversations by presenting outlooks from both sides of a generational divide. But occasionally the narration slips from “he” and “she” pronouns to “us” and “them,” accentuating a growing societal divide and disarming the reader with its jarring accusation of “you.”
Hamid takes his penchant for long, stream-of-consciousness sentences and cranks it up to 10. These sentences that stretch for days, overflowing with clauses and fragments, hurl readers along a whirlwind of thoughts.
Hamid’s new novel basks in long-winded streams of narration that sometimes end in lackluster ideas, though the occasional need to reread a paragraph-long sentence is well worth the ride.
Grandeur and mundanity swirl into a fever dream of a story in which days and weeks slip by without any sure marks of time. The overall effect is a light fuzziness that makes any topic approachable, but makes everything hard to fully grasp and focus on.
“The Last White Man” ramps down gently before ending abruptly, leaving a vague, conflicting sense of both satisfaction and unease.