Publisher's Weekly Review
McMillan's first novel Mama was highly praised; critics compared the author to Zora Neale Hurston. Naming the heroine of this second novel Zora may have been intended as an homage to that also gifted and black writer, but despite an abundance of flash and energy, this book lacks the depth and breadth to which McMillan aspires. This is a love story between Zora, an independent, aspiring singer who is said to teach junior high school (we never really see her at work) and Franklin, a sometimes-employed carpenter with an estranged wife and three young children (they're vague props). Life has been unkind to these star-crossed lovers, but they're both survivors. McMillan threads her politics through the narrative and her characters occasionally lapse into dialogue more appropriate for a position paper than conversation. In that sense, and it's not necessarily a bad one, this is an old-fashioned kind of novel, the kind with a Message. But in her effort to achieve authenticity, the author bombards readers with four-letter words, and the effect is both irritating and distancing. Though, indeed, real people talk that way, the question is: Do we want to read a novel with such relentlessly scatological dialogue? In the end, however, readers who are willing to immerse themselves in this gritty slice of life will count it an edifying experience. 25,000 first printing; movie rights optioned by Tri-Star. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Kirkus Review
As in her affecting first novel, Mama (1986), McMillan once again takes her strong and likable black characters through an obstacle course of booze and bad luck--and has them emerge scathed, but hopeful. Zora Banks, a music teacher and would-be singer, meets tall, handsome Franklin Swift, a construction worker, as she is moving into her new apartment in Brooklyn. The attraction is instantaneous--and mutual. Before they quite know how it happened, they're living together and trying to work out the separate pieces of their lives. Franklin has been separated from his wife for six years, but he's still not divorced. Zora is recovering from a series of bad romances. Franklin can't keep a job. Zora wants to quit teaching and start singing. Franklin drinks too much. Zora has epilepsy, which she regards as a shameful secret. Tensions mount when money runs short. Franklin's self-confidence plummets. And Zora finds herself pregnant--for the second time--with Franklin's child. In alternating chapters, McMillan lets her characters tell their own stories, and their voices ring strikingly true--although Franklin's raunchy opening monologue does the book no favors. What comes across loud and clear is the strength of the bond between these two characters, no matter how ragged it gets from the friction of everyday life. And things do get ragged before they get better. Zora, fearing for her physical safety, has to sleep with a butcher knife under her pillow and get a court order against her lover. Franklin has to leave home and hit bottom--hard--before he can work his way back up. A tad heavy on the pop-psych (Franklin's mom never loved him, so he has a hard time with women, etc.), but, overall, an honest and stirring story about two people who win every inch of their happy ending--the hard way. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
In Disappearing Acts, McMillan, the popular author of contemporary black fiction like How Stella Got Her Groove Back, tells the story of a man and woman who fall in love despite their initial reluctance to become involved. Zora, a schoolteacher who longs to be a singer, is a strong, well-educated woman who has seen enough to know exactly what she wants in a man. Franklin, who works intermittently as a handyman in Zora's new apartment building, is an almost-divorced father of two with a GED and a former drug problem. Although Franklin is not quite what she had in mind, Zora is drawn to his dark good looks and quiet strength; he is as impressed by her intelligence and goals as he is by her beauty. With its steamy love scenes and explicit language, this recording is not for the faint of heart. The author has responded to past criticism of the earthy language in her books by stating that such language is realistic for her characters. While this may be true, hearing four-letter words and explicit slang for the male and female anatomy in literally every minute of the recording is quite different from being able to skim over the same language on the printed page. This recording, which is set up as a series of alternating, first-person monologs, is read by New York stage and television actors Marjorie Johnson and Marc Damon Johnson. Language aside, the readers instill their characters with intelligence and honest emotions. Recommended for large public libraries where McMillan's earlier recordings have proven popular.Leah Sparks, Bowie P.L., MD (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
![Cover image for Disappearing acts [CD sound recording] / by Terry McMillan.](https://secure.syndetics.com/index.aspx?type=xw12&client=halan&upc=&oclc=45251022&isbn=9780792799665&issn=/LC.JPG "Cover image for Disappearing acts [CD sound recording] / by Terry McMillan.")
