There, she meets the accomplished-and much older-minimalist sculptor, Sandro Valera his best friend, Ronnie Fontaine and other members of the city’s thriving art scene. It explores these themes largely through Reno, “a Nevada girl and a motorcycle rider” who moves to New York City in the mid-seventies to become an artist. Or immolation.īoth unassailably cool and intellectually satisfying, Kushner’s second novel-after 2008’s Telex from Cuba-is about the trifecta of power, sex, and speed that drives modernity, as well as those forces that impede it. The man removes the nozzle from the gas pump and “jerk it at the woman,” sloshing gasoline “on her bare legs.” He then pulls a book of matches from his pocket, lights one after another, and flicks them at her, “little sparks-threats, or promises-that died out limply.” The woman makes a meager protest, dries herself with a paper towel, and finally “smile at him like they were about to rob a bank together.” This playful yet sinister exchange serves as a kind of synecdoche for Kushner’s work as a whole The Flamethrowers is a novel that courts violence, keeping its reader tense, alert, and braced for impact. While motorcycling cross country, she stops for gas and overhears a couple half arguing, half flirting at the pump next to her. Early in The Flamethrowers, our protagonist, Reno, witnesses a strange and startling scene.
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