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I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD

Like a big, friendly mutt—a bit too eager to please, but sweet-souled and companionable.

In singer-songwriter Nelson’s latest (The Christmas List, 2004, etc.), a Massachusetts freelance writer works through a raft of crises with the help of his unlikely confidante, an aging dog named Stella.

Paul Gustavson doesn’t lack for woes. He’s newly divorced, and half a continent away his father has suffered a stroke that will require him to relearn every basic skill. Paul’s long-distance girlfriend, Tamsen, splits her time and affections between him and another man, one whose job may move him (and Tamsen?) across the country. Paul’s rivalry with his superachiever brother seems to be taking a bad turn. His manuscript for the big-selling For Morons series, Nature for Morons, is overdue. He drinks too much. Perhaps worst of all, his loyal companion, Stella, now 15, is half-lame and incontinent, and the end draws near. What’s unusual here is that the confiding goes both directions. Paul doesn’t talk at his dog; he talks with her, and she talks back, imparting doggy wisdom, providing calm and grounded advice and love without condition. (She also conforms to type—the title is her line every time Paul comes home.) As Paul tries to reassert control of his life after even further heartache, the book takes a detour into the clichés of addiction (drink is the BAD dog, it turns out) and of relationship-speak (there are painfully earnest e-mails and IMs between Tamsen and Paul), yet its sweetness and low-key comic charm keep it from falling into schlock.

Like a big, friendly mutt—a bit too eager to please, but sweet-souled and companionable.

Pub Date: April 13, 2010

ISBN: 978-1-56512-597-1

Page Count: 272

Publisher: Algonquin

Review Posted Online: Feb. 17, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2010

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LIVES OF THE MONSTER DOGS

New York is colonized by giant talking canines in newcomer Bakis's wry variation on the traditional shaggy dog story. Imagination is the key here. We need to understand that at the end of the 19th century a crazed German biologist named Augustus Rank performed a succession of medical experiments that resulted in a weird genetic mutation of his subjects and created a race of ``monster dogs''—giant rottweilers and Dobermans who can speak and walk on their hind legs. After living for more than a hundred years in the seclusion of a remote Canadian settlement called Rankstadt, they are forced to move in the year 2008 to New York (where 150 of them take up residence at the Plaza Hotel) when Rankstadt is destroyed. In their 19th-century garb—Prussian military uniforms for the ``men,'' bustles for the ``women''—they cut impressive figures on the streets of Manhattan, where they quickly become celebrities and philanthropists. At Christmas they parade down Fifth Avenue in sleighs, and shortly after their arrival they construct an enormous Bavarian castle on the Lower East Side. When an NYU coed named Cleo Pira writes about them for a local newspaper, the dogs adopt her as their spokesperson and bring her into the inner life of their society. From Cleo's perspective the dogs are benign, quaint, and deeply tragic, and the more fascinated she becomes by their history—both as they relate it to her and as she discovers it for herself through Rank's own archives—the darker and more doomed their society appears. By the time Cleo has learned the secrets contained in Rank's past, it's too late to save his descendants, who have unknowingly brought about their own destruction. Serious enough, but also funny and imaginative: a vivid parable that manages to amuse even as it perplexes and intrigues.

Pub Date: Feb. 1, 1997

ISBN: 0-374-18987-0

Page Count: 320

Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 1996

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FINGERSMITH

Nobody writing today surpasses the precocious Waters’s virtuosic handling of narrative complexity and thickly textured...

Imagine a university-educated lesbian Charles Dickens with a similarly keen eye for mendacity and melodrama, and you’ll have some idea of the pleasures lurking in Waters’s impudent revisionist historicals: Tipping the Velvet (1999), Affinity (2000), and now this richly woven tale of duplicity, passion, and lots of other good stuff.

It begins as the narrative of 17-year-old Susan Trinder, an orphan resident of the criminal domicile run by Hogarthian Grace Sucksby, a Fagin-like “farmer” of discarded infants and den-mother to an extended family of “fingersmiths” (i.e., pickpockets) and assorted confidence-persons. One of the latter, Richard Rivers (a.k.a. “Gentleman”), engages Susan in an elaborate plot to fleece wealthy old Mr. Lilly, a connoisseur of rare books—as lady’s maid “Susan Smith” to Lilly’s niece and ward Maude, a “simple, natural” innocent who will be married off to “Mr. Rivers,” then disposed of in a madhouse, while the conspirators share her wealth. Maidservant and mistress grow unexpectedly close, until Gentleman’s real plan—a surprise no reader will see coming—leads to a retelling of events we’ve just witnessed, from a second viewpoint—which reveals the truth about Mr. Lilly’s bibliomania, and discloses to a second heroine that “Your life was not the life that you were meant to live.” (Misdirections and reversals are essential components of Waters’s brilliant plot, which must not be given away.) Further intrigues, escapes, and revelations climax when Susan (who has resumed her place as narrator) returns from her bizarre ordeal to Mrs. Sucksby’s welcoming den of iniquity, and a final twist of the knife precipitates another crime and its punishment, astonishing discoveries about both Maude and Susan (among others), and a muted reconciliation scene that ingeniously reshapes the conclusion of Dickens’s Great Expectations.

Nobody writing today surpasses the precocious Waters’s virtuosic handling of narrative complexity and thickly textured period detail. This is a marvelous novel.

Pub Date: Feb. 4, 2002

ISBN: 1-57322-203-8

Page Count: 493

Publisher: Riverhead

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2001

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