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Our Assessment:
A- : arrestingly hyperkinetic (and grotesque) See our review for fuller assessment.
From the Reviews: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Dolly City is a hyperkinetic surreal fiction narrated by a very driven woman.
She studied medicine in Katmandu ("study medicine in Katmandu for all I care, as long as you study" her dying father had carelessly said, and the literal-minded Dolly immediately fastened on the idea), but she can't (officially) practice in Israel -- though that doesn't stop her from her experimentation and the occasional unlicensed practice of her craft.
Typically, though, for example, for a while: "I earned my living exclusively from enemas. I became a real expert in the field".
Yes, Dolly City often gets literally visceral, and wallows in a lot more than just excrement.
But even though the child was a hundred percent healthy, I decided to cut him open. I succumbed to the chronic doubt from which I suffer. I wanted to check and see with my own eyes that everything was really in order, and then to check on my checkup, and then to make sure there hadn't been any slip ups in the re-examination, and so on and so forth.And so she keeps cutting the poor little kid open, and doing all sorts of medical procedures. Worried that he only has one kidney she gets him an additional one -- though "a few dozen babies had kicked the bucket" in the messy process -- only then to realize that he had two all along (leading her, of course, to perform yet another operation, to remove one of the excess kidneys). Yes, Dolly City is not for the squeamish (or, I'd (strongly) suggest, parents of infants); there's actually quite a bit of humor to this too, but it's definitely of the macabre sort. Castel-Bloom's narrative moves with pinball randomness, speed, and sudden shifts. The narrator recognizes the insanity of some of her actions: My concern for his health knew no bounds. It was voracious, it was grotesque. In the middle of an operation on his leg I would discover problems in the groin. So I would close up the place I'd opened, and open the place that was still closed, and so on and so forth, for hours on end. Until I reached a stage where every inch of his body was open. And then I would pass out.Among her solutions ? I figured out the way to fight my insanity: ignore it.But denial isn't much of a solution for her, not here, where she's constantly confronted with so much -- and: "I knew that there were no limits to reality's imagination, no limits at all." Castel-Bloom pushes at those limits, at a frenetic pace. Dolly City presents a warped picture of contemporary Israel, but the distortion is only one of grotesque magnification, the narrator the personification of the guilt-ridden, terribly defensive, over-protective, self-destructive, self-sure, near schizophrenic state that seems to tear itself in all different directions even as it also curls in completely on itself. The narrative covers years, but the stunted narrator is limited in any growth while the boy's escape from his mother's clutches only gets so far: real progress seems near impossible, and the best the characters can do is stagger (or hurtle) about, driven to acts of desperation. Littered with (often seemingly random) observations and thoughts -- whatever occurs to the narrator, at the time -- there's a good deal of very clever stuff here, some almost too easily lost among all these asides: All the trains in Dolly City rushed to Dachau and back again. Not that Dachau, just some old plank with the name Dachau written on it, a kind of memorial.Both messy jumble -- Castel-Bloom piles it on thick and fast -- and clinical dissection, Dolly City conveys the modern condition -- and especially that in Israel -- remarkably well. It seems haphazard, and it's often obscenely raw, but Castel-Bloom stays true to what is a quite inspired vision. Tough to take, but incredibly rich. - M.A.Orthofer, 23 October 2010 - Return to top of the page - Dolly City:
- Return to top of the page - Israeli author Orly Castel-Bloom (אורלי קסטל-בלום) was born in 1960. - Return to top of the page -
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