"Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather, and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know." - John Keats

"You're not allowed to say anything about books because they're books and books are, you know, God." - Nick Hornby
Showing posts with label Americana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Americana. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Review #7: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski

I embarked on reading Edgar, knowing only that it was a story about "a boy and his dog". In fact, in the author's own words: "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle is a boy and his dog story for grownups. If I were looking for this book, the way I once did, that's all I would want to know. Hide the dust jacket away. Don't look at it again until you close the book for the last time. Read the blurbs afterward, like I do, when I need someone to talk to right away. A novel is a daydream machine. I wish for you a long, slow read, a two-week daydream. A double-life, with dogs."

I'm tempted to not say anything more about this book other than, "Go read it. Read it now," but that's kind of a cop out. I'm also tempted to just link to Stephen King's four paragraphs about this novel, but that's a cop out, too. Maybe all I need to say is that Stephen King wrote four paragraphs recommending a novel. A debut novel. I'm thinking that once Stephen King says he wants to reread your book - and is willing to be quoted as saying that - you have officially arrived.

But I digress, and one cannot just steal Mr. King's words and be done with it.

Edgar Sawtelle, born inexplicably mute, lives an idyllic life on his parents' farm in northern Wisconsin. They raise Sawtelle dogs, a breed first created by Edgar's grandfather, and a mission carried on by Edgar's father Gar, who matches the dogs for breeding and places the pups in their permanent homes, and his mother Trudy, who is tasked with training the unusual animals. Naming the pups falls to Edgar, a job he takes very seriously, carefully marking the kennel dictionary with notes on each dog. Edgar's constant companion is Almondine, a Sawtelle dog herself, who recognizes her job in keeping Edgar safe from the moment he is born. (In fact, some of the best chapters were written from Almondine's almost dream-like perspective.)

Edgar is about fifteen years old when his father's brother returns to the farm, and shortly after that, tragedy strikes the Sawtelle family. The events set in motion that day lead to Edgar running off in the night with three of the yearling pups, and Edgar comes of age surviving on his own in the Wisconsin woods. He eventually returns to the farm at the conclusion of the story, again setting off a chain of events that will forever change the Sawtelle family - and the legacy of the Sawtelle dogs.

Amazon shows very mixed reviews about this debut novel, and I think that's because the ending divided readers. Many felt as though the book was perfect, save for the ending, but I loved the conclusion. (In fact, this was my text to the friend who had given me the book: "Just finished Edgar. Loved it. Like, really loved it. The last few chapters were exquisitely done.") Tied in to the worst-ending-in-the-world sentiment is also a heavy comparison to Hamlet, and that may be why readers were so divided on the ending. (Spoiler alert: it doesn't quite end like Hamlet.) There are similarities to the play, to be sure, but Wroblewski also invokes many other classic stories; The Call of the Wild and Watership Down immediately spring to mind.

But I don't like to read books like I'm reading for my junior year English class, dissecting the symbolism of each blade of grass. Like Wroblewski said, a novel is a daydream machine. And I prefer to daydream about Edgar as a story about a boy and his dog. That boy loved his dog, and that dog loved her boy, and sometimes, that's all that needs to be said.

Review #5: The Brothers K, by David James Ducan

Sometimes, you find a book that draws you in so slowly and slyly that you don't realize you're invested until you finish it, and then you can't stop thinking about the characters, and wondering what they're doing now. 

The Brothers K was that book for me. It appeared in my Kindle inbox with a sweet note (as an aside, how awesome is it that you can just send books to people that way?) and some very endearing texts about how loved the book was, and surely I would love it, too. So I embarked on reading it. And I found myself wandering off a bit, putting it down for long periods of time, reading other things (Look Me In The Eye) in between. And honestly, I'm not sure I would have stuck with it except for the aforementioned endearing texts. But I'm very glad I did, because just shy of halfway through, something clicked and I fell in love with it. 

Narrated mainly by Kincaid, the youngest boy in a family of four sons and twin daughters, The Brothers K centers on the Chance family, a ragtag bunch eking out a living in the Pacific Northwest in the 50s and 60s. Papa Chance, a semi-washed up, semi-pro baseball player, is the flawed father of the group, smoking Lucky Strikes, working out his demons in the makeshift ball shed behind the house, and generally just existing. Not living, but existing, waiting for the next day, the next night, in an endless stretch of time. Mama Chance is a Seventh Day Adventist who, owing to her own unfortunate childhood, clings desperately to her beliefs and the church with an increasingly strong and fervored grasp. The four boys struggle with the dichotomy between their parents, each of them choosing very different paths, flinging themselves to the four farthest corners of the earth - India, Vietnam, Canada, and California. The girls are much less fleshed out (one of my only complaints about the story), although there is a heartbreaking scene with them and their grandmother that was so masterfully written I reread it three times.

As with all families, loyalties are won and lost, battles are waged both silently and very publicly, hearts are broken, and things don't always turn out the way they were planned. But the Chance family doesn't back down, and at the end of the day, family is family, no matter how much they may hurt you or drive you insane.

Duncan's style is reminiscent of Richard Russo (who slowly seduced me with Empire Falls) and, to a small degree, he also reminds me of Pat Conroy, although Duncan's daddy issues are much different than Conroy's. (His mama issues, on the other hand, are a different story.) He's a very gifted writer, wandering about, going off topic just enough to make you wonder if he forgot what he was talking about, only to bring it all together again pages and pages later, suddenly making it all make sense. Duncan truly brings the story to life, weaving the stories of this family together in such a way that the reader feels as though they are a guest in the Chance house praying with Mama before supper, or crouched in the bushes watching Papa throw strike after strike, or tucked in to the trees smelling the fear and napalm in Vietnam. 

And the last chapter? Complete and utter perfection.