A quietly delightful read, perfectly calibrated for deep enjoyment. It has none of the high-stakes drama of the Man Booker Prize-shortlisted Room or the magical gimmickry of The Wonder, but Akin will satisfy Donoghue-ites just as much as her previous best-sellers. It succeeds, you see, because it just does so many things right, a melody that’s pleasing simply because there are no off notes. Donoghue, who lived there for two years, captures Nice during Carnival vividly, detail after detail painting a portrait so real the combined smells of urine and socca seem to waft off the pages. There are insertions—of everything from knock-knock jokes to heartbreaking fragments of history and genuinely interesting science facts—that work harder to pull you into this world than any amount of edge-of-your-seat plotting. Her portrayal of an 11-year-old in particular is almost note perfect ... Crucially, Donoghue crafts a believable bond between Noah and Michael. They’re an odd couple, sure, separated by generation, class and an ability to comprehend selfies, but this funny pair grow genuinely fond of each other. Just as I think you will of them.
As the rather well-weaved plot gathers momentum, it juxtaposes two family mysteries ... there is no soppy exposition of love between the old man and the boy at the end of the book, and the relationship’s development is subtle enough for us to accept that a partnership of sorts has formed. The extended generational plots that develop through the novel are complex and deeply moving, exploring how our family histories often affect the fates of unfolding generations. Akin sparkles with Donoghue’s clear, often witty style ... Donoghue’s crafted combination of historical context and current social issues make her book compelling and important, as well as delivering a well-paced and intelligent read.
Donoghue nails not only the class differences but the generational impasse: the adult who cannot grasp the extent to which society has broken; the child who has never known it to be otherwise ... And so it’s unfortunate that Michael seems less like a real person than a collection of attitudes, even after his sharp eye and technical savvy prove useful in helping Noah probe the mystery of a cache of 1940s-era photos Noah found among his late mother’s possessions ... As this historical subplot gains momentum, the past becomes more compelling than Noah’s present-day relationship with Michael, which somehow lacks an emotional charge ... What begins as a larky story of unlikely male bonding turns into an off-center but far richer novel about the unheralded, imperfect heroism of two women — Michael’s incarcerated mother and Noah’s long deceased one — and the way we preserve the past and prepare for the future.
Emma Donoghue has written the perfect novel to ease the transition from beach reads to the traditionally more serious issue-driven books of fall ... The first third of Akin drags somewhat while Donoghue sets up [an] elaborate plot...but once in France, the novel soars ... the overall tone remains hopeful. Akin makes for an intriguing trip to Nice for the armchair traveler who is not quite ready for the summer to end.
If Room was a horror novel laced with sweetness, Akin is a sweet novel laced with horror ... Yes, this odd-couple situation is contrived, but it’s also continuously charming ... Donoghue, a mother herself, has a perfect ear for the exasperated sighs of preteens ... offers little in the way of plot. Instead, “Akin” is true to the quiet investment of time needed to win a child’s trust. The movement here is the slow accrual of affection ... For us, the reward stems from Donoghue’s ability to wring moments of tenderness and comedy from this mismatched pair of relatives who never crossed paths in their own country.
...[an] odd little social experiment of a novel ... Grief can make people prickly, and neither of these characters [Noah and Michael] comes across at first as sympathetic. In Donoghue’s sure hands, both Noah and his snarky charge are immediately distinctive, their voices clear. Neither, however, are much fun ... It would be a stretch to say these two loners redeem each other, but cast together, they do at least learn to reach out. By their flight back to their new, shared home, they’ve touched the reader as well.
The novel is dotted with fascinating details about Nice, its history and countless references to French culture, and this factual material is mostly well worked into the narrative. And yet, while the novel represents a return to Donoghue’s enormously successful earlier concerns, Akin fails to deliver in terms of psychological tension. The story’s most compelling elements remain buried deep in the subplot, and the present where the plot is set has too little in the way of dramatic stakes to compensate and keep the reader turning the pages ... The novel has its heart in the right place, the plight of children growing up in poverty is an indisputably worthy subject for a contemporary novel ... Donoghue’s fine ear for dialogue makes for entertaining reading, and despite lacking a little tension along the way, Akin delivers a heart-warming, satisfying ending.
As its title suggests, Akin is a book about kinship. The question of what makes a family is a basic one, but no less engaging for that. Donoghue’s writing is as lush as it is clear-eyed; her characters and settings emerge in richly detailed prose, but there’s never a word out of place. Noah, a curmudgeonly almost-octogenarian who is not quite as progressive as he imagines, will ring true to anyone familiar with his type. Michael occasionally teeters on the edge of post-Generation Z stereotype—his speech is a touch too littered with buzzwords, his life goal of being a video-game streamer a bit too on the nose—but he’s believable all the same. In the hands of a lesser writer, their strained relationship might induce eye rolls, but Donoghue is adroit enough to avoid any common pitfalls. Noah’s and Michael’s emotional arcs never feel manipulative or contrived but always well earned. Their dialogue (mildly cringe-worthy slang aside) is consistently well crafted, smart, and funny ... While it might not have the high-stakes drama of The Wonder or the thriller-like quality of Room, Akin is a satisfying book nonetheless ... Donoghue’s ability to spin a story is masterful, and Akin is engaging and very readable.
... isn’t as tightly plotted as Donoghue’s previous works, and many scenes play out like a Nice travelogue more than a novel. But Donoghue does an admirable job dramatizing the sacrifices people are often forced to make for younger generations, sometimes in unimaginably dangerous situations.
Emma Donoghue is a magnificent writer, but Akin is not her best novel ... Donoghue is adept at bringing her readers to the edge of psychic collapse, and allowing them to peer into the abyss, even as they laugh. Akin never steps that close to the edge ... [the book has] a scenario with potential, but the result is didactic ... It should be said that Akin is far from a bad book. It’s perfectly readable, and, at some moments, deeply engaging. Disappointment emerges not from the book itself but from the enormously high caliber of the author’s other work. Akin is full of skeleton-stories: the death of Michael’s father, who was Noah’s nephew; Noah’s childhood in pre-WWII Nice; Noah’s marriage to the brilliant, now-deceased wife, Joan; Michael’s tumultuous history before and after his father’s death and his mother’s imprisonment. If some combination of these carried more flesh, they in turn might help carry the story and grant it the emotional depth of Donoghue’s best work.
If this book demonstrates Donoghue’s range as an author – and it does, in spades – it also shows her circling back to a handful of key concerns. In Akin, she has found a way to consider the subjects of love, freedom and family from a freshly illuminating perspective ... The path of the generational collision is a well-trodden one, but Donoghue dances along it with customary lightness ... Donoghue is far too wise to force them into an unearned happy ending ... If Room forced home truths on us, about parenthood, responsibility and love, Akin deals with similar subject matter more subtly, but in the end just as compellingly; like Noah and Michael, the books are superficially different, but fundamentally connected. This is a quietly moving novel that shows us how little we know one another, but how little, perhaps, we need to know in order to care.
... manages to find the sweet spot in a story about a traumatized kid ... Donoghue is aiming for much more than than just a quirky road trip adventure. It’s an overdue excavation of old wartime traumas by a man suddenly put in charge of a boy whose upsets are far fresher. Although marred by some heavy-handedness, her treatment of their double story grows on you ... turns unabashedly sentimental, but only a stone wouldn’t be moved by its final pages.
This is typical of Akin: the words roll off the page, the image is tender and sad, conjuring not only the awfulness of that grasp on emptiness, but its repetition too ... something about Donoghue’s story doesn’t feel quite real ... The main narrative gets off to a shaky start ... Donaghue carefully walks the tightrope between comedy and tragedy, making Rosa a convincing blend of compassion and fatigue, honest humanity and bureaucratic double-speak ... There are also moments of real poignancy. Donoghue takes care to show how vulnerable Michael is ... There are moments of real horror and pathos in the descriptions of the Nazi occupation, but it’s a plot strand that again relies heavily on coincidence, scant documentation and the reader’s willingness to suspend disbelief ... All of this would be more forgivable from a lesser writer – but not from someone with Donoghue’s talent and track record. It just feels too silly to be credible. She has been reaching for a good story, but ultimately closed on nothing.
Emma Donoghue’s novels are preoccupied with parenting in difficult circumstances ... In Donoghue’s captivating twelfth novel, another pair of strangers form a parent–child relationship ... Donoghue is impressive at producing believable and often funny dialogue ... There is a lyrical, mesmerizing quality to the storytelling...but the book feels drawn out towards the end. Michael perilously runs away twice with the same outcome each time. The mystery behind the photographs is worked through in such obsessive detail by Noah that its thrill begins to wane. It is the complex and soulful characters Donoghue creates that are most memorable in this novel.
Fans of Ms. Donoghue may find this book a bit tame in comparison to some of her other novels ... Compared to her other work, this is a quiet story in a lovely setting. It is about the development of a relationship between two people who don’t seem to have much in common ... Ms. Donoghue charts this developing relationship with sensitivity that never liquifies into sentimentality. Our understanding of these two characters remains clear-eyed, grounded in respect for their differences and concern for their vulnerabilities. As compelling as this emerging relationship is, the mystery surrounding Noah’s mother never quite becomes as interesting ... Ultimately, it is the relationship between Noah and Michael that provides the forward momentum of this story.
Setting the story against the compelling backdrop of the annual Carnaval de Nice, Donoghue...shines in her careful study of this slice of WWII history in France. As engaging and pleasing as this tale is, the two time frames don’t quite cohere, and initially, Noah’s relationship with Michael feels stilted; yet there is keen humor in how nearly all the boy does is crave Coca-Cola, curse, or convey assent by saying, 'kay.' Donoghue builds unabashedly to a heartwarming conclusion.
With her characteristic storytelling brio, Donoghue...sets up a fraught situation with multiple unresolved issues ... Donoghue keeps sentimentality to a minimum and deftly maintains a suspenseful plot ... a beautiful meditation on how we preserve the past as we prepare for the future. Noah and Michael, humanly flawed and all the more likable for that, deserve their happy ending. ... Not as ambitious or challenging as Donoghue in absolute top form...but readable, well crafted, and absorbing.
... underwhelming ... The reader is soon exasperated ... This work seems like a pale redux of Room, with its depiction of the wonder of a sheltered boy supplanted by the cynicism of a damaged one, whose voice doesn’t always ring true. The gap between Michael’s view of the world and the reader’s feels less charged than it should be, though the book makes up for it to some degree with a very satisfying denouement. This is a minor work in Donoghue’s astounding oeuvre.
