Helen DeWitt's 2000 debut, The Last Samurai, was "destined to become a
cult classic" (Miramax). The enterprising publisher sold the rights in
twenty countries, so "Why not just, 'destined to become a classic?'"
(Garth Risk Hallberg) And why must cultists tell the uninitiated it has
nothing to do with Tom Cruise?
Sibylla, an American-at-Oxford turned loose on London, finds herself
trapped as a single mother after a misguided one-night stand.
High-minded principles of child-rearing work disastrously well. J. S.
Mill (taught Greek at three) and Yo Yo Ma (Bach at two) claimed the
methods would work with any child; when these succeed with the boy Ludo,
he causes havoc at school and is home again in a month. (Is he a
prodigy, a genius? Readers looking over Ludo's shoulder find themselves
easily reading Greek and more.) Lacking male role models for a
fatherless boy, Sibylla turns to endless replays of Kurosawa's
masterpiece Seven Samurai. But Ludo is obsessed with the one thing he
wants and doesn't know: his father's name. At eleven, inspired by his
own take on the classic film, he sets out on a secret quest for the
father he never knew. He'll be punched, sliced, and threatened with
retribution. He may not live to see twelve. Or he may find a real
samurai and save a mother who thinks boredom a fate worse than death.
