My grandmother's erotic folktales

With none of the dignity and grace of BLESSED IS THE FRUIT (his second novel and one worthy of five stars), Antoni's long-awaited third book comes as a bit of a surprise and a disappointment. There is a certain escapism factor in MY GRANDMOTHER'S EROTIC FOLKTALES that doesn't so much offer readers an escape as it does illustrate the great need Antoni seems to have for one. It is easy to imagine the author closing himself into his writing room and writing away manically, blending his memories of West Indian life with a bizarre seasoning of childish and somewhat silly tales of sex. There is nothing erotic about MY GRANDMOTHER'S EROTIC FOLKTALES. They are more humorous than sensual, more burlesque than art, and more farcical than real. But show more then, that is often the case with folktales. The misleading part in Antoni's book is the word EROTIC.
As usual, Antoni's strength is dialect - perfectly rendered. One can imagine the 96-year-old woman telling her ribald tales. We can hear her accent and her laughter. We can see the grin on her old, wrinkled face. There is certainly an element of reality in this book and the tales play out on the page the way they might on a stage. Indeed, it is easy to imagine a musical adaptation of Antoni's latest work.

There is some interesting and shrewd political commentary going on under the surface of these tales as well and that - along with Antoni's style - save the book. The question is: will Antoni fans forgive him for having fun or will they be insulted at this indulgence of his while yearning for another masterpiece like BLESSED IS THE FRUIT? show less