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Ride a Cockhorse
A revolution is under way at a once sleepy New England bank. Forty-five-year-old Frances Fitzgibbons has gone from sweet-tempered loan officer to insatiable force of nature almost overnight. Suddenly she’s brazenly seducing the high-school drum major, taking over her boss’s office, firing anyone who crosses her, inspiring populist fervor, and publicly announcing plans to crush her local rivals en route to dominating the entire banking industry in the northeast. The terrifying new order instituted by Frankie and her offbeat goon squad (led by her devoted hairdresser and including her own son-in-law) is an awesome spectacle to behold.
Brimming with snappy dialogue and gleeful obscenity, Ride a Cockhorse is a rollicking cautionary tale of small-town demagoguery that might be seen to prefigure both America’s current financial woes and the rise of Sarah Palin. Frances is in any case a beautiful monster of an antiheroine—resist her at your peril!
Brimming with snappy dialogue and gleeful obscenity, Ride a Cockhorse is a rollicking cautionary tale of small-town demagoguery that might be seen to prefigure both America’s current financial woes and the rise of Sarah Palin. Frances is in any case a beautiful monster of an antiheroine—resist her at your peril!
307 pages, Paperback
First published May 29, 1991
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 98 reviews
September 7, 2016
I'm convinced that there is a discrete outpost within the southern climes of my stomach— approximately the size of an average avocado pit—where my loathing resides. In this theory, my loathing, in its neutral state, is a congealed knob of greenish wax-like substance which radiates a faint, mostly evenly-distributed rancor throughout my body. It isn't an assertive affect—just a general disposition which can be given in to or overcome (with effort) as one wishes.
But certain stimuli have the power, it would seem, to activate this usually semi-dormant nugget of bilious hatred. When activated, the globule softens and then melts into a highly acidic solution that sloshes within and throughout the gastrointestinal system, corroding its protective walls and debilitating its normal functions. The deleterious effect of this substance cannot be overstated. Historically, it has incited wars, occasioned crimes of passion, and precipitated unmanageable bouts of diarrhea. Its direst symptom, of course, is the impairment of rational judgment—that fragile mechanism which maintains (however precariously) an ordered society. If the substance remains activated and in its liquefied form indefinitely, profound and irreversible mental dysfunction can occur—which is why aromatherapy and meditation have become so popular, I guess.
To get to the point: Ride a Cockhorse by Raymond Kennedy liquefied (and boiled) my globule. It is such an astoundingly inept novel that I'm not sure exactly how to approach it. It's as if somebody asked me what the main problem with the movie 2012 was. How does one answer that? I want to tell you what's wrong with this novel, but I think I would have to set aside two weeks at a writer's retreat to get it all out.
Do you like novels that are populated only by two-dimensional characters who never change or evolve in any way over the course of three hundred pages—but who instead act in the same (ridiculous, undermotivated) way over and over and over and over again? Do you like when completely implausible events comprise almost the entirety of a novel's plot? Do you like it when a novelist satirizes things (e.g., the banking industry, power trips, the cult of personality) that are, for all practical purposes, self-satirizing and require no exaggeration whatsoever to illustrate their failings and absurdities? Do you like funny novels that aren't funny—I mean, novels that try so fucking hard to be biting and hilarious but fail almost uniformly to be anything but tepid and obvious? Do you like novels about unlikable characters whose unlikability (its genesis, its motivation) is never explored in any real way and never used to make any point whatsoever?
WELL, HAVE I GOT A NOVEL FOR YOU, SUCKER!
Ride a Cockhorse is about a fortysomething woman named Frances 'Frankie' Fitzsimmons, who at the very outset of the novel has changed. She was once a sweet, helpful, milquetoast kind of gal (we are told, anyway), but suddenly she is now a megalomaniacal asshole who seduces a high school boy, ruthlessly forces her way up the corporate ladder, and loses all grasp of reality. We aren't told why she changed. Raymond Kennedy has simply told us that she has changed, and we shouldn't question it. If Frankie Fitzsimmons were an actual character, maybe Kennedy would have offered up a little insight, a little shading, but she's not. She's a cartoon. A cardboard cut-out. A one-note idea dressed up in a skirt. Although Frankie generally acts like a freak and engages in the most ridiculous behavior, she is constantly rewarded by fate (or she reaps the benefits of having weak and ineffectual enemies).
Oh. And I hope you like reading monotonous ravings... (You made it this far into this monotonous raving, so I suppose you do.) Because Frankie goes on and on and on about how great she is. She's like Muhammed Ali in three-inch heels.
You know how I said she's an asshole at the beginning of the novel? Well... SPOILER ALERT! She's an asshole at the end of the novel too! Nothing has changed. She hasn't grown or learned anything or been developed by the author in any way. I guess Kennedy didn't really have a choice though—because when a character is defined only by one characteristic, you can only tinker around with that characteristic at the risk of losing the character altogether.
ARGH! My globule is so melted right now that I need to go listen to some sitar music or visit a Japanese garden to re-coagulate it. So if you'll excuse me...
But certain stimuli have the power, it would seem, to activate this usually semi-dormant nugget of bilious hatred. When activated, the globule softens and then melts into a highly acidic solution that sloshes within and throughout the gastrointestinal system, corroding its protective walls and debilitating its normal functions. The deleterious effect of this substance cannot be overstated. Historically, it has incited wars, occasioned crimes of passion, and precipitated unmanageable bouts of diarrhea. Its direst symptom, of course, is the impairment of rational judgment—that fragile mechanism which maintains (however precariously) an ordered society. If the substance remains activated and in its liquefied form indefinitely, profound and irreversible mental dysfunction can occur—which is why aromatherapy and meditation have become so popular, I guess.
To get to the point: Ride a Cockhorse by Raymond Kennedy liquefied (and boiled) my globule. It is such an astoundingly inept novel that I'm not sure exactly how to approach it. It's as if somebody asked me what the main problem with the movie 2012 was. How does one answer that? I want to tell you what's wrong with this novel, but I think I would have to set aside two weeks at a writer's retreat to get it all out.
Do you like novels that are populated only by two-dimensional characters who never change or evolve in any way over the course of three hundred pages—but who instead act in the same (ridiculous, undermotivated) way over and over and over and over again? Do you like when completely implausible events comprise almost the entirety of a novel's plot? Do you like it when a novelist satirizes things (e.g., the banking industry, power trips, the cult of personality) that are, for all practical purposes, self-satirizing and require no exaggeration whatsoever to illustrate their failings and absurdities? Do you like funny novels that aren't funny—I mean, novels that try so fucking hard to be biting and hilarious but fail almost uniformly to be anything but tepid and obvious? Do you like novels about unlikable characters whose unlikability (its genesis, its motivation) is never explored in any real way and never used to make any point whatsoever?
WELL, HAVE I GOT A NOVEL FOR YOU, SUCKER!
Ride a Cockhorse is about a fortysomething woman named Frances 'Frankie' Fitzsimmons, who at the very outset of the novel has changed. She was once a sweet, helpful, milquetoast kind of gal (we are told, anyway), but suddenly she is now a megalomaniacal asshole who seduces a high school boy, ruthlessly forces her way up the corporate ladder, and loses all grasp of reality. We aren't told why she changed. Raymond Kennedy has simply told us that she has changed, and we shouldn't question it. If Frankie Fitzsimmons were an actual character, maybe Kennedy would have offered up a little insight, a little shading, but she's not. She's a cartoon. A cardboard cut-out. A one-note idea dressed up in a skirt. Although Frankie generally acts like a freak and engages in the most ridiculous behavior, she is constantly rewarded by fate (or she reaps the benefits of having weak and ineffectual enemies).
Oh. And I hope you like reading monotonous ravings... (You made it this far into this monotonous raving, so I suppose you do.) Because Frankie goes on and on and on about how great she is. She's like Muhammed Ali in three-inch heels.
You know how I said she's an asshole at the beginning of the novel? Well... SPOILER ALERT! She's an asshole at the end of the novel too! Nothing has changed. She hasn't grown or learned anything or been developed by the author in any way. I guess Kennedy didn't really have a choice though—because when a character is defined only by one characteristic, you can only tinker around with that characteristic at the risk of losing the character altogether.
ARGH! My globule is so melted right now that I need to go listen to some sitar music or visit a Japanese garden to re-coagulate it. So if you'll excuse me...
June 21, 2016
Frankie Fitzsgibbons, at 46, has undergone an unexplained change in personality. It is not that she is recently widowed. She says of her late husband, “Larry didn’t die. … He just slowed down terrifically.” Nor is it that she can’t abide her daughter, whose lack of fashion sense and left-wing save-the-world politics nauseate her.
Overnight, seemingly, she decides to take over the bank where she has worked reservedly for years as a loan officer. She makes up for the lost time with Larry by seducing the local high school drum major.
She bullies and blusters and succeeds beyond any justification. How? Well . . . she’s a fast-talking populist hotshot. . . She’s a demagogue! . . . a rabble-rouser. . . She works on people’s fears. . . She plays to the balcony.
Sound like anyone you know?
This was mildly entertaining; and, perhaps, instructive on how a charlatan can gain power and how he can be stopped. If they can be stopped.
Overnight, seemingly, she decides to take over the bank where she has worked reservedly for years as a loan officer. She makes up for the lost time with Larry by seducing the local high school drum major.
She bullies and blusters and succeeds beyond any justification. How? Well . . . she’s a fast-talking populist hotshot. . . She’s a demagogue! . . . a rabble-rouser. . . She works on people’s fears. . . She plays to the balcony.
Sound like anyone you know?
This was mildly entertaining; and, perhaps, instructive on how a charlatan can gain power and how he can be stopped. If they can be stopped.
December 14, 2015
It's probably because most of the books I read and log on GR tend to have a very small number of reviews - so the sampling is super wonky - but I'm pretty much without fail amused at readers reactions to nyrb selections. It's almost always this disparate melange of glowing reviews and utter bewilderment (or just straight contempt) - scrolling through them almost always reminds me in some small way why I dislike mostly everyone I know. Hyperbolic? I don't know, maybe - I should probably just treat the general reading public's reviews with the same apprehension that I treat the comments on basically every article on the internet.
This is not a glowing review. I will not talk to you about how amazing the satire here is, nor how sharp. I won't even spend any time praising the character of Frankie Fitzgibbons, or her wild antics. I don't think any of those comments are appropriate - there are traces of those things in the text; however the book doesn't really support those assertions.
This is a fun book though. It is funny, and it is witty, and thankfully it doesn't take itself too seriously. The book operates under it's own internal set of rules and logic and doesn't deviate from them, presenting a setting at once familiar but filled with actions that are absurd and mostly alien. I would say the reason this book succeeds is that it buys into its own brand of bullshit and never looks back or second guesses itself. Probably the other reason I like it is that my job overlaps into the banking industry, and so this all the funnier in a gross-exaggeration of some of my day-to-day kind of way.
Clearly this isn't for everyone, but I think nyrb did a great job selecting this, and I'm glad to have spent the time reading it.
This is not a glowing review. I will not talk to you about how amazing the satire here is, nor how sharp. I won't even spend any time praising the character of Frankie Fitzgibbons, or her wild antics. I don't think any of those comments are appropriate - there are traces of those things in the text; however the book doesn't really support those assertions.
This is a fun book though. It is funny, and it is witty, and thankfully it doesn't take itself too seriously. The book operates under it's own internal set of rules and logic and doesn't deviate from them, presenting a setting at once familiar but filled with actions that are absurd and mostly alien. I would say the reason this book succeeds is that it buys into its own brand of bullshit and never looks back or second guesses itself. Probably the other reason I like it is that my job overlaps into the banking industry, and so this all the funnier in a gross-exaggeration of some of my day-to-day kind of way.
Clearly this isn't for everyone, but I think nyrb did a great job selecting this, and I'm glad to have spent the time reading it.
June 7, 2012
A revolution is under way at a once sleepy New England bank. Forty-five-year-old Frances Fitzgibbons has gone from sweet-tempered loan officer to insatiable force of nature almost overnight. Suddenly she’s brazenly seducing the high-school drum major, taking over her boss’s office, firing anyone who crosses her, inspiring populist fervor, and publicly announcing plans to crush her local rivals en route to dominating the entire banking industry in the northeast. The terrifying new order instituted by Frankie and her offbeat goon squad (led by her devoted hairdresser and including her own son-in-law) is an awesome spectacle to behold.
Uhhhh hunh. Sounds awesome. There are times the ever-present undertone of misogyny in a lot of quasi-analytic fiction by men swells to the dominant melody, the theme of the whole goddamn symphony, and this appears to be one of them. She's Hitler! She's like unregulated banking! She's suddenly confident and with a powerhouse libido! But she's also a crazy virago! And then she gets the liquid cosh - she's Ratched and McMurphy. (And if you think those are spoilers, you know nothing about this kind of narrative, and less about misogyny. Will she be Saved by the Love of a Good Man? What do you think?)
You know, Shakespeare wrote about this woman called "Lady Macbeth." It's really great. Raymond Kennedy should check it out.
Uhhhh hunh. Sounds awesome. There are times the ever-present undertone of misogyny in a lot of quasi-analytic fiction by men swells to the dominant melody, the theme of the whole goddamn symphony, and this appears to be one of them. She's Hitler! She's like unregulated banking! She's suddenly confident and with a powerhouse libido! But she's also a crazy virago! And then she gets the liquid cosh - she's Ratched and McMurphy. (And if you think those are spoilers, you know nothing about this kind of narrative, and less about misogyny. Will she be Saved by the Love of a Good Man? What do you think?)
You know, Shakespeare wrote about this woman called "Lady Macbeth." It's really great. Raymond Kennedy should check it out.
November 20, 2019
Can't remember where I saw this book described as a forgotten classic, a ribald satire, etc. Unfortunately, reading it I couldn't wait for it to end. It lost me about half way through. Looking back, I can see it is a satire of insanity in banking, and how people are willing to overlook outrageous behaviour "as long as we are making money." For me, the antics were too broad and it was beyond satire, verging into the slapstick. Also, there were some failed details — the worst being the graffiti above the urinal in the men's washroom, which supposedly was written in black spray paint. Who has a spray can of paint to use in the employee bathroom at a bank? Much more likely to have been written simply in ball point pen. Or a marker.
I also removed a star for the mention of Sarah Palin on the back cover. Completely unnecessary, and irrelevant. Shame on you, grasping at straws marketing department at the NYRB.
I also removed a star for the mention of Sarah Palin on the back cover. Completely unnecessary, and irrelevant. Shame on you, grasping at straws marketing department at the NYRB.
December 12, 2025
I took another 'stroll' through the catalog of New York Review Books and happened upon this prime example of absurdist realism from 1991 by Raymond Kennedy (a talented author new to me). The premise intrigued me: a somewhat-lowly female loan officer has a sort of epiphany one day re: how she can easily change (and vastly improve) her position in life if she just... grabs the world firmly by the balls and acts like she deserves the world as her oyster. ...Or else.
The ground plan (such as it is - for the most part, she wings it) for this awakening is laid down almost immediately in the novel. Mrs. Fitzgibbons (the terror in this tale) assumes the manner of a steamroller, relying on her big (and quick and often vulgar) mouth and her ability to not only lie at will (she wills that constantly) but to create chaos. As she explains...
But (to me, anyway), it seems that - three decades ago - Kennedy was writing about our current 'POTUS': the epitome of Fraud. ...Except for the fact that Mrs. Fitzgibbons has a real sharpness of wit and an impressive command of language: two things that what's-his-name always seems to be at a loss for.
Another parallel with you-know-who: he has made many of his followers horribly vocal. They might have kept a lid on their hatred - they might have had to - if a Democrat were leading the country. But, because that's not the case, they're saying and doing any vile thing that they please. The same thing happens in this novel. A number of Mrs. F's devotees (and sycophants) make a sharp about-face from their previously tentative natures.
Everything that happens in this story happens in a relatively short period of time. It's sort of what it would be like if it took a house on fire a week to burn to the ground and to cinders. Fortunately, the conclusion reveals that, all along, we've been reading what amounts to a black comedy. (~except that someone much like Mrs. F. is now running and ruining the White House; and there's nothing funny about it.)
The ground plan (such as it is - for the most part, she wings it) for this awakening is laid down almost immediately in the novel. Mrs. Fitzgibbons (the terror in this tale) assumes the manner of a steamroller, relying on her big (and quick and often vulgar) mouth and her ability to not only lie at will (she wills that constantly) but to create chaos. As she explains...
"You can't turn back," she said. "There's no place to hide. You can stay forever buried in the mass, as long as you keep quiet and swallow what they feed you, but when you start to fight, you have to defend yourself around the clock every day of the year. And you can only do that by attacking and destroying your enemies. ...It's a never-ending struggle. If you stand still," she said, "those behind you will smash the life out of you."The "fight" Mrs. Fitzgibbons refers to is the one she creates without cause; as are her "enemies". She is a supreme narcissist. She devises dilemmas that she will then star in as Savior. Lying (like a large and ornate 'rug') every step of the way, she paves for herself the reputation of a Great White (Woman) Hope. Once she (via self-promotion) achieves CEO status, many around her come to believe she's a legit (and simply hard-working) force.
But (to me, anyway), it seems that - three decades ago - Kennedy was writing about our current 'POTUS': the epitome of Fraud. ...Except for the fact that Mrs. Fitzgibbons has a real sharpness of wit and an impressive command of language: two things that what's-his-name always seems to be at a loss for.
Another parallel with you-know-who: he has made many of his followers horribly vocal. They might have kept a lid on their hatred - they might have had to - if a Democrat were leading the country. But, because that's not the case, they're saying and doing any vile thing that they please. The same thing happens in this novel. A number of Mrs. F's devotees (and sycophants) make a sharp about-face from their previously tentative natures.
Everything that happens in this story happens in a relatively short period of time. It's sort of what it would be like if it took a house on fire a week to burn to the ground and to cinders. Fortunately, the conclusion reveals that, all along, we've been reading what amounts to a black comedy. (~except that someone much like Mrs. F. is now running and ruining the White House; and there's nothing funny about it.)
June 1, 2022
Ah, the banality of evil! In this genius and prescient novel, easily one of NYRB's most hilarious offerings, you will be both titillated and disturbed as the fascist bank employee Frankie Fitzgibbons cuts her bloody swathe through her sleepy New England town.
Don't misunderstand: this is no slasher novel and the political parallels are at once nebulous and often laugh-out-loud funny because they hit you so suddenly. Mrs. Fitzgibbons merely has an awakening one day that she can run things better than the fools in charge. Setting out to seize power at the bank, purge her foes at the bank, and fuck high school students when not at the bank, with her retinue of blindly-obedient toadies in tow (it will be hard for you to find a favorite one of those), she upends the status quo and sets out to destroy everyone and everything in her path. And looking damn good doing it.
Don't misunderstand: this is no slasher novel and the political parallels are at once nebulous and often laugh-out-loud funny because they hit you so suddenly. Mrs. Fitzgibbons merely has an awakening one day that she can run things better than the fools in charge. Setting out to seize power at the bank, purge her foes at the bank, and fuck high school students when not at the bank, with her retinue of blindly-obedient toadies in tow (it will be hard for you to find a favorite one of those), she upends the status quo and sets out to destroy everyone and everything in her path. And looking damn good doing it.
Read
January 1, 2023Revelatory. The description of how a post-menopausal bank clerk, through amorality and sheer personal brutality, swiftly amasses an empire, Ride a Cockhorse is at once a hysterical and an intensely disturbing vision of the rise of fascism. I am burying my political convictions deep in the second paragraph of a blog which no one reads when I say that the personal style of the antihero, which consists of gross dishonesty expressed in a contemptuous and exaggerated masculinity, is one which presages that of one of our own current presidential candidates, though you're welcome to guess which one on your own. In any event, very much worth reading.
April 19, 2022
Here I was giggling and chortling and genuinely kicking my legs up in the air like a little girl at Raymond Kennedy's Ride a Cockhorse, and then I get on here and see a barrage of overly negative reviews; colour me surprised! Sure, the critiques are pretty much warranted and make several points (there's no real character development, its satirical elements are broad and on-the-nose, and the wicked girlboss antiheroine that is Mrs Frances Fitzgibbons doesn't actually learn or grow throughout the course of the novel - among other things), but I think if you abandon all sense at the door and this idea that novels have to mean something or comment about deep, important themes in the society we live in, and just suspend your disbelief for a second and enjoy this splendidly entertaining farce about horrible people doing horrible things to themselves and each other.
It starts off superbly with our introduction to a mild-mannered loan officer who changes overnight into a rogue, silver-tongued dictator (I personally didn't mind that we're given no reason for this); the writing is just so sublimely intoxicating and constantly interesting that it's impossible not to want to read on. The plot loses steam somewhat in the final act and is a little too insular to give us that big payoff the beginning hints at, but I found this to be remarkably entertaining and the funniest book I've read in ages.
It starts off superbly with our introduction to a mild-mannered loan officer who changes overnight into a rogue, silver-tongued dictator (I personally didn't mind that we're given no reason for this); the writing is just so sublimely intoxicating and constantly interesting that it's impossible not to want to read on. The plot loses steam somewhat in the final act and is a little too insular to give us that big payoff the beginning hints at, but I found this to be remarkably entertaining and the funniest book I've read in ages.
July 17, 2012
I picked up this book because Slate ran a short piece by James Parker comparing the novel's protagonist Frances “Frankie” Fitzgibbons to Sarah Palin. Of course Parker overstates his case (as he freely admits) but I'm kind of glad he did, because his review intrigued me, and I immediately ordered the book from Powells, and quickly read it.
I loved the tight time frame that allowed the action to unfold like in a Greek tragedy, and Kennedy's characters were deftly drawn. Fitzgibbons is a character study in modern life and her rise to power is as thought provoking as it is entertaining and horrifying all at once. Are we supposed to hate her? Would we hate her any more - or any less - if she were a man? The book at times reminded me of The Wave by Todd Strasser, how easily someone could gather power on the force of their personality, and how eager people are to follow a strong leader.
This is lit no doubt, but I think it would be accessible to many people. I actually thought that this book was quite cinematic. I can see why Parker thought this was relevant to current politics - a good read for this election season.
I loved the tight time frame that allowed the action to unfold like in a Greek tragedy, and Kennedy's characters were deftly drawn. Fitzgibbons is a character study in modern life and her rise to power is as thought provoking as it is entertaining and horrifying all at once. Are we supposed to hate her? Would we hate her any more - or any less - if she were a man? The book at times reminded me of The Wave by Todd Strasser, how easily someone could gather power on the force of their personality, and how eager people are to follow a strong leader.
This is lit no doubt, but I think it would be accessible to many people. I actually thought that this book was quite cinematic. I can see why Parker thought this was relevant to current politics - a good read for this election season.
January 16, 2019
This was nuts. Mrs Fitzgibbons' tits do something on almost every page.
Bits:
"'what the hell do I care? I didn't make the world.'"
"'The only thing that would make your father turn over in his grave would be if the television set was behind him.'"
On Terry's penis:
"'You've never seen anything like it in your life. It's a work of art. You couldn't dent it with a hammer.'"
"'Eddie is a peeping Tom," Matthew explained pleasantly.
'Oh, I see!' Dolores brightened happily over that.'"
"In fact, amid the grunts and outcries, the quartet of men formed a frightening primitive picture, as of pre-historic ritualists struggling with a recalcitrant beast. Dolores immediately banalized this awesome impression, however, with her remark on Mr Hooton's sexual skills. 'He fucks like a pizza,' she said."
"'The developer is a shyster. And you ... are left sitting on an iceberg headed for the equator.'"
Bits:
"'what the hell do I care? I didn't make the world.'"
"'The only thing that would make your father turn over in his grave would be if the television set was behind him.'"
On Terry's penis:
"'You've never seen anything like it in your life. It's a work of art. You couldn't dent it with a hammer.'"
"'Eddie is a peeping Tom," Matthew explained pleasantly.
'Oh, I see!' Dolores brightened happily over that.'"
"In fact, amid the grunts and outcries, the quartet of men formed a frightening primitive picture, as of pre-historic ritualists struggling with a recalcitrant beast. Dolores immediately banalized this awesome impression, however, with her remark on Mr Hooton's sexual skills. 'He fucks like a pizza,' she said."
"'The developer is a shyster. And you ... are left sitting on an iceberg headed for the equator.'"
July 14, 2012
This is one of the funniest books I've read in quite a while, as well as the best novel about banking ever.
August 23, 2015
A few years ago I read, somewhere out there in the vast Interwebs, something positive about this book. So I ordered a copy and it sat unread until last week when I took it on a beach trip. Maybe it was the perfect Atlantic Ocean days on the Delaware shoreline, but I enjoyed the book thoroughly. About half-way through I began to realize that the main character was shockingly similar to an old boss of mine. Not in all ways of course because the plot is quite outrageous; the book is silly in a 1930s mad-cap movie sort of way. But in subtle ways -- the arrogant strutting down hallways and ignoring subordinate employees, the habit of calling employees into her office only to make them stand silently at attention for several minutes while she finished clacking away on her computer, or rearranging a stack of papers, or rummaging through her purse. Then I read a passage in which the main character forces an underling to shield her with an umbrella while she walks to her car, like a lackey for a member of the royalty. That sealed it for me. You don't have to have experienced an arrogant and slightly deranged employer to enjoy this book but it helps.
September 18, 2020
I read this because of the review in Slate from the great James Parker: https://slate.com/culture/2012/06/sar...
I wouldn't say that the psychotic, horny, ruthless main character is good old Sarah, though, I'd say more like an unholy cross between Carly Fiorina and Faye Dunaway in Network.
August 10, 2012
This is one of those books that you push on people that you know, that you buy as gifts. I rated this last year, and I see now that it has been republished, and given the recognition as a classic that it deserves.
September 3, 2013
I enjoyed the writing and the story. The comedy is vicious even when it's slapstick. As to the plot, the clash of characters in the climax seems inevitable as the (anti)heroine becomes ever more martial in her mania, but it nicely turns the ostensible misogyny of office politics on its head. However, as I read, I never felt that Moment of Insight some books induce.
Thinking back, the title might be the key. Frankie's mania is a toy horse of sorts and she rides it, for better or for worse. Simultaneously, Frankie is herself a toy horse of sorts and her employer rides HER, however unwittingly, to a victory that may not be Pyrrhic at all.
If we've learned anything about humanity here, though, perhaps it pertains to the nature of Leaders and the Led. There is a quiet moment in the final paragraphs when Mrs. Fitzgibbons gently demonstrates her ability to direct Bruce, and his need to be directed. Tellingly, Kennedy leaves us with only the two characters, and with that as his final thought.
Thinking back, the title might be the key. Frankie's mania is a toy horse of sorts and she rides it, for better or for worse. Simultaneously, Frankie is herself a toy horse of sorts and her employer rides HER, however unwittingly, to a victory that may not be Pyrrhic at all.
If we've learned anything about humanity here, though, perhaps it pertains to the nature of Leaders and the Led. There is a quiet moment in the final paragraphs when Mrs. Fitzgibbons gently demonstrates her ability to direct Bruce, and his need to be directed. Tellingly, Kennedy leaves us with only the two characters, and with that as his final thought.
April 10, 2013
I thought this novel was hilarious, and that Frankie Fitzgibbons, a formerly sedate home loan officer who goes on a manic rampage and commandeers a small town bank, was deliciously entertaining. The novel gets a bit tiresome, as it probably must, since Frankie's mania gives her such an inflated sense of her own command of language that she rants virtually nonstop throughout the novel, and she can't help repeating herself. Still, a very funny look at the way people are drawn to, and seduced by, a powerful personality who decides to chuck the rules and use wild, over the top tactics to mow down everyone in her way. I couldn't resist her.
July 8, 2019
A satire of humanity's mad lust for money, about a woman who, at the outset, becomes something of a monster at the bank where she works, all the while turning the place into a massive success. Great writing, very measured, considering the lunacy the characters engage in. Haven't read anything quite like this one before.
Also amusing--the many one star reviews for this book. I suppose one does have to be amused by horrible people being horrible to enjoy this one.
Also amusing--the many one star reviews for this book. I suppose one does have to be amused by horrible people being horrible to enjoy this one.
August 26, 2012
Call me a nattering nabob of negativism, but I didn't find a whit of humor in this sad tale. Yes, I know it's satire, but what exactly was Kennedy satirizing: insane sociopaths who take over local banks by ruthlessly destroying other peoples livelihoods and lives?
This was simply a painful read with few redeeming literary qualities.
This was simply a painful read with few redeeming literary qualities.
February 15, 2016
How can one be both appalled and enthralled by the protagonist? The author painted a great picture and I couldn't put it down, even when I was ashamed to be reading this. It's actually quite humorous and sad at the same time.
February 22, 2011
Dark. Funny. Vicious. Hyperbolic. Kennedy nails these characters with warmth and style.
August 10, 2012
This is a hilarious, and pensive, tale. I'm delighted I found it.
August 19, 2025
Apparently we’ve gone way beyond being lured into reading a book by its cover (something I’m both a victim and an advocate of) and apparently simply a silly name is enough to get me to give something a go. Not only that, if you also tell me your book is about a middle aged woman having essentially a power crazed, mildly psychotic, midlife crisis, that’ll probably work on me too. Alas, disappointingly, sometimes the promise of all this is not quite enough, and though I did enjoy some of my time with this novel (especially at the beginning), this book ended up being much more of a let down than I anticipated.
The real issue with ‘Ride a Cockhorse’ is that it simply overstays its welcome, and I cannot think of a single reason for it to be almost 400 pages long. It’s like a comedian that doesn’t have enough material and so drags out a bit. It almost doesn’t really matter how good or funny that bit initially was, watching someone beat it to death gets boring pretty quickly. By a certain point, it just felt unforgivably repetitive. For example, immediately after the first scene where Mrs Fitzgibbon newfound ballsiness leads her to firing someone at the bank (and all of the chaos and consequences that ensue from it), it’s immediately followed by essentially the same scene again. This next scene doesn’t really ratchet things up, or change things in any way. Nor is it strictly bad, or badly written. It just seems to be entirely the same again, for no real reason. I felt this way increasingly as the book went on. That the bulk of this book was just more of the same again, to its detriment. This book clearly doesn’t believe that less is more, but unfortunately for it, I do, and this entire book could have easily been stripped and streamlined and massively improved by such actions. I really believe ‘Ride a Cockhorse’ could have easily been halved in volume and been twice as good.
I really didn’t love the ending either. It wasn’t the most disappointing thing I’ve ever read, but I couldn’t help but feel that a book like this should go out with a bang rather than a whimper, and I would’ve liked to see it culminate in something equally as ridiculous as everything else here had been.
It wasn’t all bad though. Quite frankly, the fact that I was able to get through the full 400 pages with relative ease despite all these issues is actually a testament to both Kennedy’s prose and the original idea here. Both were genuinely good. The prose was so easy and fluid, you could read 100 pages in the blink of an eye thanks to how smooth it was. Equally, I liked how ridiculous and bombastic this book was at the start. Mrs Fitzgibbons’ Trumpian qualities were well wrought and exaggerated in a way that was genuinely funny. Yes, the satire was yes very much on the nose, but I don’t believe subtlety is strictly a criteria for satire to be successful (and subtlety would definitely have no place in a novel like this), especially for a concept as inherently ridiculous as politics or the world of banking.
So it’s hard not to be hard on this book, and I do think that’s a shame considering its many good qualities. When I looked at Goodreads as I was marking this as currently reading, I was surprised by all the negative reviews. Throughout the course of reading it, I went from disagreeing with them, to slowly seeing where they were coming from but liking it nonetheless, to all but sharing their opinion, more or less. I can’t say I hated it in the way some people did (as understandable as that is), but a lot of my enjoyment was definitely tarnished by its myriad issues. I’m not sure I’d go so far as to really steer people away from this book, but I definitely couldn’t freely recommend it either. Just a shame this book could never quite get out of its own way.
The real issue with ‘Ride a Cockhorse’ is that it simply overstays its welcome, and I cannot think of a single reason for it to be almost 400 pages long. It’s like a comedian that doesn’t have enough material and so drags out a bit. It almost doesn’t really matter how good or funny that bit initially was, watching someone beat it to death gets boring pretty quickly. By a certain point, it just felt unforgivably repetitive. For example, immediately after the first scene where Mrs Fitzgibbon newfound ballsiness leads her to firing someone at the bank (and all of the chaos and consequences that ensue from it), it’s immediately followed by essentially the same scene again. This next scene doesn’t really ratchet things up, or change things in any way. Nor is it strictly bad, or badly written. It just seems to be entirely the same again, for no real reason. I felt this way increasingly as the book went on. That the bulk of this book was just more of the same again, to its detriment. This book clearly doesn’t believe that less is more, but unfortunately for it, I do, and this entire book could have easily been stripped and streamlined and massively improved by such actions. I really believe ‘Ride a Cockhorse’ could have easily been halved in volume and been twice as good.
I really didn’t love the ending either. It wasn’t the most disappointing thing I’ve ever read, but I couldn’t help but feel that a book like this should go out with a bang rather than a whimper, and I would’ve liked to see it culminate in something equally as ridiculous as everything else here had been.
It wasn’t all bad though. Quite frankly, the fact that I was able to get through the full 400 pages with relative ease despite all these issues is actually a testament to both Kennedy’s prose and the original idea here. Both were genuinely good. The prose was so easy and fluid, you could read 100 pages in the blink of an eye thanks to how smooth it was. Equally, I liked how ridiculous and bombastic this book was at the start. Mrs Fitzgibbons’ Trumpian qualities were well wrought and exaggerated in a way that was genuinely funny. Yes, the satire was yes very much on the nose, but I don’t believe subtlety is strictly a criteria for satire to be successful (and subtlety would definitely have no place in a novel like this), especially for a concept as inherently ridiculous as politics or the world of banking.
So it’s hard not to be hard on this book, and I do think that’s a shame considering its many good qualities. When I looked at Goodreads as I was marking this as currently reading, I was surprised by all the negative reviews. Throughout the course of reading it, I went from disagreeing with them, to slowly seeing where they were coming from but liking it nonetheless, to all but sharing their opinion, more or less. I can’t say I hated it in the way some people did (as understandable as that is), but a lot of my enjoyment was definitely tarnished by its myriad issues. I’m not sure I’d go so far as to really steer people away from this book, but I definitely couldn’t freely recommend it either. Just a shame this book could never quite get out of its own way.
February 15, 2024
This was a horrible little book, 4.5 stars.
November 14, 2025
Funny, strange, about 50 pages too long. “He fucks like a pizza” will stay with me for a long time.
August 4, 2014
Full disclosure: I gave up on this novel halfway through; with that said, I���m still marking it as read���I feel as if I have read it as, at the point at which I threw in the towel, the monotony and repetitive dialogue and almost predictable rise-in-the-chain-of-command ascendancy of Frankie Fitzgibbons made me feel as if I had the end of the novel pretty well nailed. (Of course, I now wonder how the novel does end: perhaps it ends . Although that wouldn���t surprise me all that much either, so I���m happy living with the uncertainty.������
Raymond Kennedy���s Ride a Cockhorse has polarized a lot of reviewers here on Goodreads, and for good reason. I think that a lot of us expect a certain quality of books from NYRB, and this certainly doesn���t feel like a NYRB title at all. Another point of contention has to do with the marketing blurb on the back of the book itself, something that George Ilsley points out in his review below. From the blurb:���
While I���m hardly a fan of Sarah Palin, I���m not sure that a publisher should be espousing political agendas on the back covers of their books. On top of that, I prefer to make my own connections while reading instead of having the marketing department at NYRB decide it for me, thank you very much.������
The first chapter of Ride a Cockhorse is wonderful: it���s witty; it���s perverse; it���s hilarious; it���s sickening; it���s like watching a train wreck and being somehow immobilized, unable to look away. After this, Kennedy���s pace slows down as we witness the previously docile and demure Frankie Fitzgibbons come into a strange midlife crisis that, for her, involves the blessing (or curse) of a growing ego, libido, and deluded inflation of her view of herself in relation to others. Her constant denigrations and whip-quick put-downs of those in her power are funny, but they grow old quickly���all the more so as they are repeated almost verbatim on every other page. (On this note, some words get repeated too frequently as well: e.g., ���paranoid��� and ���liquid��� being two words that caused me to cringe each time I saw them peppered throughout the text.)������
Moria has made a good point about the novel���s sexist message: it does indeed read like a male author���s own paranoia���deflected and refracted through the main female character here in the novel���about women rising to positions of power. I also found the sycophantic Bruce and his partner to be characterized in comical ways that could also be read as bordering too closely on homophobia. Ride a Cockhorse is, if anything, a portrait of two-dimensional characters drawn along lines of stereotypes and cliches, so perhaps this was Kennedy���s intention; if it was, the message was not delivered properly to many readers, simply reading comments below.������
Nathan N.R. Gaddis brought ���camp��� up earlier, and as I was making my way through Ride a Cockhorse, I realized that the true way to appreciate the humor and the satire at work in Kennedy���s novel was to read it as camp. It���s the only way, and actually, you know something, Kennedy does camp really well. But there also comes a point when camp is overdone, and, in the case of Ride a Cockhorse, 300 pages filled with phrases, characterizations, put-downs, you-name-it that are repeated ad nauseam is far too long to sustain camp, if you ask me. (Of course, I could also be biased in suggesting Kennedy might well have turned this novel into a solid short story or novella: it seems the last few novels I reviewed���Gerard Murnane���s Inland and Barry Webster���s The Lava in My Bones ���were also, in my view, pieces that would have functioned better as short fiction.)���
���NYRB publishes some truly wonderful books, translations, brings long out-of-print titles back into circulation, etcetera. Perhaps Kennedy���s should have been shelved in favor of bringing more typical NYRB titles into our always-greedy hands (ahem, like MacDonald Harris���s Mortal Leap). Ride a Cockhorse, including its Sarah Palin marketing blurb, should be viewed as an experiment on NYRB���s part, one that failed pretty miserably���although it was fun as far as chapter one goes, I���ll give them/him/it that much.
Raymond Kennedy���s Ride a Cockhorse has polarized a lot of reviewers here on Goodreads, and for good reason. I think that a lot of us expect a certain quality of books from NYRB, and this certainly doesn���t feel like a NYRB title at all. Another point of contention has to do with the marketing blurb on the back of the book itself, something that George Ilsley points out in his review below. From the blurb:���
Brimming with snappy dialogue and gleeful obscenity, Ride a Cockhorse is a rollicking cautionary tale of small-town demagoguery that might be seen to prefigure both America���s current financial woes and the rise of Sarah Palin.
While I���m hardly a fan of Sarah Palin, I���m not sure that a publisher should be espousing political agendas on the back covers of their books. On top of that, I prefer to make my own connections while reading instead of having the marketing department at NYRB decide it for me, thank you very much.������
The first chapter of Ride a Cockhorse is wonderful: it���s witty; it���s perverse; it���s hilarious; it���s sickening; it���s like watching a train wreck and being somehow immobilized, unable to look away. After this, Kennedy���s pace slows down as we witness the previously docile and demure Frankie Fitzgibbons come into a strange midlife crisis that, for her, involves the blessing (or curse) of a growing ego, libido, and deluded inflation of her view of herself in relation to others. Her constant denigrations and whip-quick put-downs of those in her power are funny, but they grow old quickly���all the more so as they are repeated almost verbatim on every other page. (On this note, some words get repeated too frequently as well: e.g., ���paranoid��� and ���liquid��� being two words that caused me to cringe each time I saw them peppered throughout the text.)������
Moria has made a good point about the novel���s sexist message: it does indeed read like a male author���s own paranoia���deflected and refracted through the main female character here in the novel���about women rising to positions of power. I also found the sycophantic Bruce and his partner to be characterized in comical ways that could also be read as bordering too closely on homophobia. Ride a Cockhorse is, if anything, a portrait of two-dimensional characters drawn along lines of stereotypes and cliches, so perhaps this was Kennedy���s intention; if it was, the message was not delivered properly to many readers, simply reading comments below.������
Nathan N.R. Gaddis brought ���camp��� up earlier, and as I was making my way through Ride a Cockhorse, I realized that the true way to appreciate the humor and the satire at work in Kennedy���s novel was to read it as camp. It���s the only way, and actually, you know something, Kennedy does camp really well. But there also comes a point when camp is overdone, and, in the case of Ride a Cockhorse, 300 pages filled with phrases, characterizations, put-downs, you-name-it that are repeated ad nauseam is far too long to sustain camp, if you ask me. (Of course, I could also be biased in suggesting Kennedy might well have turned this novel into a solid short story or novella: it seems the last few novels I reviewed���Gerard Murnane���s Inland and Barry Webster���s The Lava in My Bones ���were also, in my view, pieces that would have functioned better as short fiction.)���
���NYRB publishes some truly wonderful books, translations, brings long out-of-print titles back into circulation, etcetera. Perhaps Kennedy���s should have been shelved in favor of bringing more typical NYRB titles into our always-greedy hands (ahem, like MacDonald Harris���s Mortal Leap). Ride a Cockhorse, including its Sarah Palin marketing blurb, should be viewed as an experiment on NYRB���s part, one that failed pretty miserably���although it was fun as far as chapter one goes, I���ll give them/him/it that much.
August 14, 2012
Read in a single stab - this is more fierce than funny. Possibly the result of developing a brain tumor while masturbating to Femdom porn and listening to Ayn Rand books on tape at the same time - Frankie goes apeshit banking power mad overnight and you get to experience it all with her in slightly less than amazing detail. This book made me think about things I don't like to think about too often because I'm never quite confident or proud of my initial reactions to such situations. I write and read from the view point of a man who supports computers in a hospital staffed by 90% women which taints my opinions. I've seen episodes like this book illustrates repeatedly, seen 'em dragged out by cops, bifurcated from underlings in broom closets with only slightly less splash than the average ejaculation of a garden hose and I've seen 'em steal anything that will fit in a purse for sheer vindictive will. Generally speaking I loathe the Powersuit Pollys with shit-level educations and even less tolerable morals. So reading this was sort of like dreaming about work which I'd like to either cease or somehow be compensated for otherwise. But I also read and write from the vantage point of a father of a girl who I hope matures into a happy, powerful, and self-directed professional. And if I'm viewing the book as a lesson rather than lit - I'm opening discussions I'm not sure I want to have. For example - what if all the gender roles in Cockhorse were swapped? I think Kennedy had to have those thoughts in mind as well. He does spare his readers some of this concern as he reduces everybody, apart from the hair dresser - and his intentioned androgyny, into some horrible creep, sycophant, toady or freak. Like The Tenants of Moonbloom for example, these are all people that are easy to enjoy despite their obvious flaws. Frankie is no exception. Frankie doesn't walk the line between male and female, she picks the line off the ground, fashions it into a lasso, hogties her prey with it and smotherfucks their faces. It makes me feel funny to write like that. Funny's good. And this book is very funny at times - but as sophisticated humor demands - there is pathos to give it all depth. Frankie's Quixotic focus is exactly as reality-excluding as the Knight of the Sad Countenance as she is described as having no more than 4 hours of sleep a night during her brief and fiery sky-blossom. When she forcibly alights her throne she is no less defeated than Don Quixote and we love her no less for it.
There is a delightful amount of smut involved here - not much - but just enough to keep the reader focused on the sexual potential of every situation. Rabelais said from the gut comes the strut but in Frankie's case - it's slightly lower in origin as sexuality seems to be at the center of her drive to power. She loathes those with no sexual potential and only has any genuine affection for those who can excite her. A like minded crony remarks, "He fucks like a pizza." (I'm from Chicago - that means deep and tasty fucking for a few hours - but when you consider that the book is set in Mass - you understand how that is an insult to your cocksmanship) which in my mind's inner photoplayer makes a mallet hitting a metal tub of water type of warbling resonant thud. There are many such oddly sonorous notes that make this a delightfully unique read. On the subject of music, this is a very musical prose that flows nicely throughout. This is well written and Kennedy's descriptive skill is appreciated. I thought that some of the character development was a bit lacking in parts as some of the supporting cast is thinly drawn - but the brisk pacing of the subject matter might have suffered with excessive psychological contemplation. If Stephan Zweig wrote this it would be well over a thousand pages and the sexy parts would be less sexy.
I imagine this book will offend the easily offended and inflame those that wrestle with sex and gender issues - but if you're willing to just be entertained - this book will enable that response in most attentive readers as well. Something sinister creeps under the water here. Frankie’s achievements basically take her from a loathing of masturbation to fleeting joy of masturbating with another’s body – a pitiful ground display to accompany the firework of her career. When the majority of your motivation generates from below the beltline – and you don’t please yourself – this is the result. You’re better off to marry a whore and just pay cash for your major purchases than intermingle with failed onanistic creditors. Ayn Rand said, "A creative man is motivated by the desire to achieve, not by the desire to beat others." Frankie is not a creative man. A more sane man might would just beat himself instead.
There is a delightful amount of smut involved here - not much - but just enough to keep the reader focused on the sexual potential of every situation. Rabelais said from the gut comes the strut but in Frankie's case - it's slightly lower in origin as sexuality seems to be at the center of her drive to power. She loathes those with no sexual potential and only has any genuine affection for those who can excite her. A like minded crony remarks, "He fucks like a pizza." (I'm from Chicago - that means deep and tasty fucking for a few hours - but when you consider that the book is set in Mass - you understand how that is an insult to your cocksmanship) which in my mind's inner photoplayer makes a mallet hitting a metal tub of water type of warbling resonant thud. There are many such oddly sonorous notes that make this a delightfully unique read. On the subject of music, this is a very musical prose that flows nicely throughout. This is well written and Kennedy's descriptive skill is appreciated. I thought that some of the character development was a bit lacking in parts as some of the supporting cast is thinly drawn - but the brisk pacing of the subject matter might have suffered with excessive psychological contemplation. If Stephan Zweig wrote this it would be well over a thousand pages and the sexy parts would be less sexy.
I imagine this book will offend the easily offended and inflame those that wrestle with sex and gender issues - but if you're willing to just be entertained - this book will enable that response in most attentive readers as well. Something sinister creeps under the water here. Frankie’s achievements basically take her from a loathing of masturbation to fleeting joy of masturbating with another’s body – a pitiful ground display to accompany the firework of her career. When the majority of your motivation generates from below the beltline – and you don’t please yourself – this is the result. You’re better off to marry a whore and just pay cash for your major purchases than intermingle with failed onanistic creditors. Ayn Rand said, "A creative man is motivated by the desire to achieve, not by the desire to beat others." Frankie is not a creative man. A more sane man might would just beat himself instead.
February 14, 2014
Ride a Cockhorse is a hilariously bawdy comedy and a modern day horror story. Mr. Kennedy spins a rollicking good yarn of a lowly white collar bank employee who rises up and, through the sheer force of will and charisma, takes over her local branch and institutes a reign of terror worthy of the Jacobins over her coworkers, underlings, and local competitors. It is a filthy tale, full of sound and fury, that has my unqualified recommendation.
Anyone who has ever toiled under a psychotic boss or has had to endure unstable, paranoid coworkers will recognize in Mr. Kennedy's protagonist, Ms. Ferguson, a hilariously frightening grotesquerie of said archetype. Why Ms. Ferguson experiences her psychotic break is neither here nor there - other members of goodreads who fret over it miss the point completely. It is the unfolding of her hilarious reign of terror which captivates. No Rhodes Scholar, Ms. Ferguson amply demonstrates how an average individual can take over any local fiefdom through sheer force of will, especially when her competitors are unwilling to go to such lengths. A literary Keyser Soze, Ms. Ferguson knew that "You just needed the will to do what the other guy wouldn't." It was the source of her irresistible charm, and downfall.
The tale climaxes in a scene of inspired vulgarity which would make Baudelaire and Brecht well up in admiration; it is matched only in the tenderness of the denouement.
The victory here is that such a pulpy story is told with such panache. Mr. Kennedy's prose is energetic and laugh out loud funny - except of course, for all of the times it makes you cringe with horror from the everyday social depravity it flaunts for all to see.
Anyone who has ever toiled under a psychotic boss or has had to endure unstable, paranoid coworkers will recognize in Mr. Kennedy's protagonist, Ms. Ferguson, a hilariously frightening grotesquerie of said archetype. Why Ms. Ferguson experiences her psychotic break is neither here nor there - other members of goodreads who fret over it miss the point completely. It is the unfolding of her hilarious reign of terror which captivates. No Rhodes Scholar, Ms. Ferguson amply demonstrates how an average individual can take over any local fiefdom through sheer force of will, especially when her competitors are unwilling to go to such lengths. A literary Keyser Soze, Ms. Ferguson knew that "You just needed the will to do what the other guy wouldn't." It was the source of her irresistible charm, and downfall.
The tale climaxes in a scene of inspired vulgarity which would make Baudelaire and Brecht well up in admiration; it is matched only in the tenderness of the denouement.
The victory here is that such a pulpy story is told with such panache. Mr. Kennedy's prose is energetic and laugh out loud funny - except of course, for all of the times it makes you cringe with horror from the everyday social depravity it flaunts for all to see.
December 13, 2016
My end-of-2016 quest for "relevant" reads brought me to this obscure comic novel. Actually, no, scratch that. The library's copy of a book with an appealing blue spine and a funny-lookin' title brought me here. But, whaddya know, it's America! Today! It's about a small-town banker who embraces her fascist impulses, ascends to power, forms a goon squad, conducts mass firings, survives an assassination attempt, delivers interminable speeches, and destroys her arch nemeses. A political thriller about a vindictive populist demagogue who stages an unlikely takeover of a venerable institution... That sound familiar?
Anywho, Goodreads thinks it's a sad and sexist book (presumably because it's a man writing about a deranged woman who uses sex as a weapon), but I thought it was funny and compelling and maybe even feminist (the woman in question, Frankie Fitzgibbons, is a satirical creation, but she was not written by Kennedy out of spite: he seems to delight in her exploits, and I think he expects the reader to, as well (I certainly did, even when she fired the man with one arm)). So yeah, a difference of opinion.
I'm right, though.
Anywho, Goodreads thinks it's a sad and sexist book (presumably because it's a man writing about a deranged woman who uses sex as a weapon), but I thought it was funny and compelling and maybe even feminist (the woman in question, Frankie Fitzgibbons, is a satirical creation, but she was not written by Kennedy out of spite: he seems to delight in her exploits, and I think he expects the reader to, as well (I certainly did, even when she fired the man with one arm)). So yeah, a difference of opinion.
I'm right, though.
October 21, 2012
Wow. Lots of hatin' on this book on Goodreads. I have to say I really enjoyed it. Frankie Fitzgibbons is so shockingly unapologetic in her power grab, it's mind-blowing to watch others just let her bowl them over. And the sycophantic attraction others have to her power is terrifying. Some have said this book is a statement about the arrogance of the banking industry in the mid-80s. Other claim it's a statement on Hitler. I hate to think Raymond Kennedy would be so one-dimensional in his attack on single-minded autocracy. To me, this book demonstrates just how much power one can usurp when unfettered by what anyone else thinks. Frankie Fitzgibbons is full of empty platitudes but cares simply about accumulation of power and its intoxicating effects. It's truly fascinating and terribly funny as well. Glad the negative reviews didn't scare me off.
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