Customer Reviews

Son of Rosemary : The Sequel to Rosemary's Baby

5 star:		(6)
4 star:		(25)
3 star:		(12)
2 star:		(26)
1 star:		(93)

 

 

"Rosemary's Baby" was a five star classic that no one should pass up. Unfortunately, "Son of Rosemary" simply does not measure up as a sequel. The premise is unlikely and the novel simply lacks the creativity, class, and suspense of the original. Essentially, in the sequel, Rosemary, the mother of "Adrian" whose father is Satan, wakes from a coma to discover that her son is the wildly popular "Andy" who is the leader of a messianic movement in the modern-day world. The reader, of course, knows the truth. The most interesting part of the novel, to me at least, was the portrayal of what a "Christ versus Antichrist" scenario might be like in the present day, and this is, indeed, the theme of the novel.

Unfortunately, since the reader knows the truth, there is none of the suspense which made "Rosemary's Baby" such a classic (and I am not overusing that word here). Further, the story's ending is unsatisfactory and unsurprising. All in all, this is a quick read to which most readers will not return, and it leaves the reader unsatisfied albeit mildly entertained.

When I picked up this book in my local library, I was hoping for a good read, having enjoyed several of Mr. Levin's previous works ("Rosemary's Baby", "The Boys from Brazil", "The Stepford Wives", etc.)

*Caveat: The following comments contain spoilers. Please don't read them if you want to read this work with a "fresh" mind.

Sadly, this book really let me and several other people down for a number of reasons:

*If you're going to write a novel about the Anti-Christ, you're going to need to follow biblical prophecy; in this work, Levin has failed to do that; instead, he has created an unbelievable end-world (eschatological) scenario. (Everyone in the world is going to light a lethal candle at exactly the same moment and get killed by fumes from the candle? Gimme a break, Mr. Levin...)
*Referring to the above point: If you're going to portray the Anti-Christ, you're going to have someone who somehow unites the world's religions, etc. And since people in our day and age are extremely wary, I find it hard to believe that someone who appears on the world scene and somehow unites the world's religions wouldn't be viewed with at least a hint of suspicion; but in this book, everyone (save a few dumb backwoods rednecks and a few disciples of Ayn Rand) loves Andy to death; in other words, Mr. Levin, your characterization of Andy says, I'm the Anti-Christ and you idiots can't even see it! (Follow this with evil laughs.) In the real world, even blind people could see this from hundreds of miles away. Perhaps the latter is not a politically correct description, but I for one am not a politically correct viewer, and I for one find this novel, whose author seems not to wish to offend anyone with plot twists and turns that would require the offending of people if one were to write a believable novel about the Anti-Christ, to be a politically correct horror novel, which ultimately means it's no horror novel at all. (A true horror novel cannot be politically correct.)
*The character of Andy (Rosemary's son) is unsympathetic; he comes off as a Seattle-like grunge slacker; I for one wouldn't follow him. I just don't believe that die-hard Muslims, hard-core Jews and fundamentalist Christians would, either. Andy's diction is that of a suburban high school student; so much for a potential world leader.
*We're TOLD that Andy has united the peoples and nations of the world, but we're not SHOWN how Andy unites the world. (Refer to the above points regarding plot and character believability. Obviously, Mr. Levin has forgotten an important lesson about fiction writing: Show, don't tell. I'd be embarrassed, if I were a novelist, to claim this work as my own because of this one point.)
*Rosemary's been in a coma for 27 years or so; a little more than a month later, she's dancing in front of the world with her soon-to-be-world-leader-Anti-Christ son? I don't think so, Mr. Levin; you obviously know little of human physiology or believe that your readers are idiots; her muscles would have atrophied so much she wouldn't be able to walk for a long, long time, if ever. So much for waking up from a 27-year coma in November, 1999, and cutting the rug in December, 1999, among other things.
*Several of the characters -- like the TV evangelist -- are direct copies of real people; in other words, these characters are wooden figures because Levin has failed to flesh them out; real characters are archetypes, not just clever (or in this case, not-so-clever) imitations of real-world people.
*We never find out what happens to Guy and other characters from "Rosemary's Baby"; in this sense, "Son of Rosemary" is a lot like the "American Pie" sequels, which, because they fail to incorporate characters from previous "American Pie" flicks, fail to fulfill the promises of the subplots and archplots within them. In other words, if you're going to write a sequel, you need to incorporate all of the characters from the original work to make the sequel believable. Barring this, you end up with a watered-down work (like "Son of Rosemary").
*It all ends when we discover that Rosemary had just had a bad dream; the events of 1965/1966, in other words, were just a dream; Andy was just a dream; it was all just a dream...This is the easy, lazy way for a writer to end a work; and it's one of the most disappointing things a writer can do to a reader.

I could go on and on about this pathetic book, but won't; Mr. Levin, you should be ashamed for writing this work; it's bad, lazy writing not becoming of someone who has written great works like the aforementioned ones in the first paragraph of this review.

SPOILER ALERT-To defend this pretty-good sequel, I'm having to give away the ending. Don't read this post until you have read the book--and have done your part to noodle out its puzzling conclusion. Then tell me if you think I'm right!

Why so many bad reviews? First off, let's be real. Most horror books are nothing but brain candy. When you come to one that requires reflection, it's disconcerting. We were all expecting a typical horror story so that we could be entertained, close the cover and move on to the next read. But this Hershey's Kiss turns out to be more of a Slo-Poke (I betray my age), and we are asked to chew on it awhile to get our nickel's worth.

Were you annoyed by that last page--discovering that ROAST MULES was not to be revealed, and realizing that the book's entire point hinged on it? I enjoy subtlety, but am averse to working anagrams so that I can THEN assemble an author's meaning. The ending would have spun out much more smoothly had the anagram been solved at some point, and I don't think the story would have lost a gram of subtlety.

Nevertheless, the novel is successful and here's why. First, this was no "It was only a dream ... or was it?" cornball kid-book ending--unless, in the manner of Elias Howe, Rosemary was able to invent roller blades and the Palm Pilot as she dozed. The conversation with Hutch assures us (doggedly) that the dream was a vision. Of course, that's not enough to keep the book out of the bush-leagues, but there's more.

To save you a couple of aspirin, the solution to the anagram is somersault. Some have interpreted this as cyclical imagery, suggesting that Rosemary is damned to repeat her ordeal for eternity. However, a somersault is not a cycle. While one does alight in the same posture/position as before, he finds himself a few steps advanced. That's what's happening here. At St. Pat's, Rosemary prays for a sign, and for guidance. The unexpected response turns out to be a full replay--but this time, with the benefit of experience. The last words of the book are, "She looked ahead." That's a lot different from her starting point in Rosemary's Baby. Rosemary never had a chance in the first go-round. Anyone, no matter how good or how clever, would have been pulled in and defeated. But this next time, her mettle and faith can play a role, and depending on how she performs, she'll either save the world or find herself once again on that stuffy elevator. Though the somersault gives her a fighting chance, this won't be a cake walk. `We're about to be thrown out, it's a free year at the Dakota, look, it was only a dream,' and etc. She'll doubtless go on to the Dakota, and there she'll find out how much she learned in the practice round.

... because I was foolish enough to ignore the bad reviews on this page, and read the book anyway.

I've tried to understand what would motivate Levin to write crap like this, and the only answer I can come up with is that he wanted to cash in on all the "end of the world" millenialism that was floating around in 1997. His previous authorship of _Rosemary's_Baby_ gave him a ready audience for a sequel. Clearly this was a money-making opportunity too good to pass up.

The book is pathetic. The plot is ridiculous; the characters are inconsistent and unconvincing, and the ending... what can I say?
[SPOILER ALERT]
Levin does that terrible thing that soap opera writers do when they can't figure out how to end a story: Everything (including the events of the first novel) turns out to be a dream. How rude! How pathetically rude. For an author, this is the literary equivalent of urinating on your readers. It completely violates the contract between author and reader.

So, Ira Levin, if you're reading this from the Great Beyond somewhere, "Shame on you."

!!Warning!!-expounding on spoilers in other reviews!!

I hadn't realised that there was a sequel to Ira Levin's 60's masterpiece, so despite the bad reviews, I picked up a copy.

Well, it's a short read. I started at 7 and ended at nine. Not to say it was enthralling, and not to say that you couldn't see a lot that was coming from about six miles away. Rosemary wakes up after 25-odd years in a coma, gets over that fact in about 5 minutes (feel free to dig out your copy of Stephen King's "Dead Zone" to refresh your memory about the diffculty that long-time coma victims have with physical therapy), meets up with bigger-than-Jesus Andy, who's group wants to get everone to light a candle at the same moment- Greenwich Mean Time on Midnight of the New Millenium. (Yes, I know, the new millenium started on Jan 1, 2001. send your letters to Ira.) It's very important to these people that everyone understands the time zone differences- god forbid that someone may <b>light the candle early</b>!

You can see where this is going.

In any case, there's a lot made about another anagram (that goes nowhere), the whereabouts of Rosemary's ex Guy (which goes nowhere), and Damie- er- Andy, having a bit more.... uh. <i>affection</i> for Rosemary than... well let's just say there isn't a Hallmark card for it. And it's reciprocated (which I wish went nowhere)

Another reviewer gave away the ending, but personally, I think they were wrong. The last chapter isn't telling you that all that happened in the two books before was a dream, it's telling you that sometime even the prince of darkness keeps a promise.

This book will have the curious effect that the color remake of "Psycho" had on me. You will immediately toss it aside and pick up the original. Too bad it makes his early works seem like a fluke.

...should be reserved for authors who pull stunts like this. I have never been more glad that I bought a book from the remainder table and not the best-seller shelf. This book is, quite simply, an unbelievable cheat. Ira Levin has shamelessly attempted to cash in on the success of "Rosemary's Baby" with this wretched excuse for a thriller that any publisher should have had the wherewithal to toss on the trash-heap. Put aside for the moment the shallow plotting and insipid dialogue. Apparently unable to come up with any way to instill actual terror in the reader, Levin has instead sought to incite disgust through repeated suggestions of mother-son incest. As a final insult, he gives us an ending that negates not only the premise of the sequel but the very events of its predecessor. Shame on you, Mr. Levin, shame! Because, in the end--yes, I'm about to spoil the ending, so turn back now if you can't take it--not only has Rosemary dreamed all the events of the sequel, SHE HAS ALSO DREAMED ALL OF "ROSEMARY'S BABY"! Could it be that Levin simply could not think of an ending to save his eternal soul? Or, as the Church Lady might have said, "Could it be...Satan?" Leave this one wherever you found it and buy something else. Buy ANYTHING else.

Don't read unless your out to tarnish your opinion of Rosemary's Baby.
This book is nothing more than a quick cash in on an American Classic, and don't let the "you just have to get it" reviews fool you because there's nothing here to get. Ira doesn't even tell you what the anagram referred to many times throughout the book (Roast Mules) even means because it's just meaningless.
To sum it up... the book is basically just silly, boring rambling with a terribly weak plot that doesn't match up well with the original.
Nothing mysterious about it, the ending is just silly and even insulting to the reader... it's just weak.
It's like ordering a double vodka and you realize you've been served a club soda.
I actually question whether Ira Levin even wrote this because it's such a drastic drop in quality from the original.

"Son of Rosemary", Ira Levin's 1999 follow-up to the wonderful "Rosemary's Baby", was not as horrible as I expected but was much worse than I hoped. Gone is the subtle nuances and shadowy tension of the original novel. Instead, Levin who attempts to re-create the mysterious intensions of his characters and fails, pushes forth an unbelievable plot with characters lacking any sort of common sense.

The major problem with "Son of Rosemary" is that Ira Levin introduces a scenario that is so unbelievable in such a quick fashion that the story has no chance of credibility right from the beginning. Rosemary who wakes from a thirty-three year coma finds her son has grown into a charismatic international celebrity leading a group called God's Children (GC). With the new millennium approaching, the GC has organized a worldwide show of solidarity with Rosemary's son Andy as the messiah. The implausibility of the world rallying around a pseudo spiritual leader like Andy with everyone wearing "I love Andy" buttons and watching GC specials on TV was laughable. Of course with no back story this premise is thrust upon the reader in a few pages and seems so manufactured that the novel never recovers.

Another issue is that Rosemary does not resemble the character we were concerned about so many years ago. After thirty-three years in a coma Rosemary accepts her son's new role so quickly that she is doing press conferences, interviews, attending staff meetings and producing television spots for the GC. Huh? What happened to Guy? What happened to her friends? What happened to the father of Andy? For a woman absent from the world for so long and the mother of the son of the devil, she sure doesn't have any problems assimilating herself into her new life. She does worry shallowly about Andy's intentions, but is just as pleased to overlook a myriad of susceptible behavior by her son and those around him.

The ending that has so enraged many readers was in fact quite clever and the only redeeming portion of the novel. The reader needs to recognize what is actually happening instead of just accepting Rosemary's explanation. I found the ending (really there are two endings) good and creative but not good enough to rescue the implausibility of the rest of the novel.

Well, it might be overkill, but I feel compelled to add criticism to the ocean that this book has already received. I feel almost bad for Levin and his complete breakdown of creativity, until I think that if this novel had been submitted by someone with little or no credentials it probably would be mounted on a wall in some editor's office as an example of the worst piece of writing ever submitted. Someone actually published this and I feel like they literally reached into my wallet and took out the money. I kept hoping while reading this novel that I was missing a joke, or that the whole thing would be revealed as a parody. No, I think Levin was serious the whole way through. I could recount at least ten solid examples of cliche, but to do so might send me into therapy. Don't even think about buying this book.

Ira Levin was around 70 when he wrote this. That's what my family have decided is the reason for such a poor showing from an established author. Judging by this latest effort he is sadly past his prime.

Rosemary wakes up from a coma, finding herself the exact age that Mia Farrow would be now. The book is dedicated to Mia Farrow. On numerous accounts, over-flattering remarks are made regarding how good Rosemary looks for her age. It all reads as a buttering-up to get Farrow to reprise her film role which she will never do because no-one will ever waste their money making this into a film.

The plot is wafer-thin. Rosemary's son is now the saviour of the earth. He is so loved and revered by all races and religions - implausible? I think so - that he has managed to organise a grand event called The Lighting for New Years 2000 in which every inhabitant on the earth will light yellow and blue candles given to them by Andy. Rosemary knows her son is the son of Satan and yet it takes her three-quarters of the novel to suspect that The Lighting may be a sinister plot to destroy mankind.

My favourite part of the novel is when Rosemary discovers that Judy Kharyat (a recently murdered ex-girlfriend of Andy's) had a middle name that started with S. Yep, you got it, Judith S. Kharyat (Levin advises saying it quickly for full effect) attempted to thwart Andy's plans. I was laughing so hard I practically drowned in the bathtub while reading.

The ending is atrocious. Whilst I would never dream of giving the ending of a book away on Amazon, let me say that its denial of the content of the first novel (not to mention film) gives it the ring of a third-grader's short story. Appalling.

Take note of how many people picked this one up in a bargain bin. It's not even worth rummaging for.

C. James Brown