I am so behind in my reviews and decided to just dive in with my most recent reading…so here goes:

The Genius of Dogs: How Dogs Are Smarter Than You Think

Well, I ask you…how could I say no to this book?  It jumped off the New Acquisitions shelf of the Hinkle Library.  The Genius of Dogs: How Dogs Are Smarter Than You Think by Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods is a readable and fascinating excursion into dogs and their relationship with humans. I learned so much without reading the notes at the end; however, this is a book I want to purchase.

            It begins with Hare’s history with dogs and how his first dog turned him on to this area of research.  Hare, a professor of evolutionary anthropology and founder of the Duke Canine Cognition Center knew his dog was different and began his research as an undergrad.  I was especially interested in his theory of how some wolves adapted into the life of domestication.  He does not believe that man would have trained them because it would have required sharing food with them.  Hare believes it is much more likely that some wolves were attracted to humans through the garbage that accumulated in towns and eventually developed an attraction to humans.  All this was surmised from the research results of a Russian who bred foxes for genetic testing under the guise of fur breeding, thus escaping Stalin’s banishment of genetics.  Survival of the fittest sometimes means survival of the friendliest.

            The research he has done making connections between humans and dogs is astonishing. My primary reason for reading the book was interest in more effectively working with my dogs.  I was not disappointed: “Like infants, dogs are best at following the direction of your gaze when you signal to communicative nature of your head movement.  Dogs are more likely to look where you are looking if you call their name and make eye contact before shifting” (241).  His research has proven that puppies have the same reactions to human gestures as adult dogs.  They also respond well to a high pitched voice, which explains why Viola and Fabian react to my singing in such a positive way.  While reading this book I began thinking of the benefits of having testing done on my hounds.  Brian Hare has an extensive website www.dognition.com  providing the opportunity to test and understand your dog’s cognition and personality.  Pursuing this avenue with one of my hounds is my next goal.

            Not being able to write in this book was a challenge, hence, my desire for a personal copy of it.  The book closes with this thought: “Dogs have such a natural affinity to humans that the gentle stroking of a human hand can release chemicals inside their brains that make them feel calm and affectionate.  They even prefer to be with humans [rather] than with their own species” (282).  Well, of course…I knew that.

Hare, Brian and Vanessa Woods. The Genius of Dogs: How Dogs Are Smarter Thank You Think.

            New York: Dutton, 2013. Print.

Picked-up Pieces by John Updike

My blog has been neglected due to the heat of summer, preparing for my annual pilgrimage to Stratford, Ontario, and the trip itself.  I completed my June reading with this collection of essays, speeches, and reviews.

Shortly after October 1989, I picked up this book off a shelf at Sundance Books in Geneseo, paid for it, and brought it home.  Since then my paperback copy of Picked-up Pieces by John Updike has been moved from an apartment to my home and waited patiently on a shelf for me to read it.  It was one of the first books I paged through this year; in May I actually began reading it.  I enjoyed reading this collection of essays, speeches, and book reviews originally published between 1966 and 1975…far earlier than I began reading John Updike.  I heard him speak in Rochester once, and his style was easy and enjoyable – like listening to a good friend talk about books.  John Updike is no longer with us, but his voice remains.

In the Foreword he recalls how he became a book reviewer and gives his rules for writing a book review.  “A reviewer, unlike an ideal reader, is committed to finish the book: I read slower than I write…” (15); identifying with this statement is easy for me.  If I am reading for storyline, I read rather quickly, but when I sense a book deserves a more serious reading, I slow down; I take notes; I copy out lines that strike me.  I am a note taker.  Updike was a serious reviewer:

My rules, shaped intaglio-fashion by youthful traumas at the receiving end of critical opinion, were and are:

1.      Try to understand what the author wished to do and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.

2.      Give enough direct quotation—at least one extended passage—of the book’s prose so the review’s reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste.

3.      Confirm your description of the book with quotation from the book, if only phrase-long, rather than proceeding by fuzzy précis.

4.      Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending.  (How astounded and indignant was I, when innocent, to find reviewers blabbing, and with the sublime inaccuracy of drunken lords reporting on a peasants’ revolt, all the turns of my suspenseful and surpriseful narrative!  Most ironically, the only readers who approach a book as the author intends, unpolluted by pre-knowledge of the plot, are the detested reviewers themselves.  And then, years later, the blessed fool who picks the volume at random from a library shelf.)

5.      If the book is judged deficient, cite a successful example along the same lines, from the author’s oeuvre or elsewhere.  Try to understand the failure.  Sure it’s his and not yours?

To these concrete five might be added a vague sixth, having to do with maintaining a chemical purity in the reaction between product and appraiser.  Do not accept for review a book you are predisposed to dislike, or committed by friendship to like.  Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any ideological battle a corrections officer of any kind.  Never, never…try to put the author “in his place,” making of him a pawn in a contest with other reviewers.  Review the book, not the reputation.  Submit to whatever spell, weak or strong, is being cast.  Better to praise and share than blame and ban.  The communion between reviewer and his public is based upon the presumption of certain possible joys of reading, and all our discriminations should curve toward that end. (14-15)

And with that citation I believe I have done justice to John Updike.  This collection of essays, speeches, and reviews does not need to be read cover to cover.  I skipped a few reviews of books that I will not be seeking to read.  However, I compiled a list of authors whose work I will revisit or visit for the first time because of Updike’s thoughtful opinions. 

He discusses, in essays and speeches, issues of interest to me: his reactions to meeting other writers, the difficulties of humor in translation, and (in 1969) thoughts on the future of the novel.  As a lover of graphic novels, I was astounded by this comment, “I see no intrinsic reason why a doubly talented artist might not arise and create a comic-strip novel masterpiece” (39).  Updike lived to see graphic novels come to life; I will be seeking out later writings to see if he revisited this topic.

I will close this long overdue review with two lists: one of titles and characters he valued and a second of authors he admired.

Specific titles and characters:  Living and Loving by Henry Green, Remembrance of Things Past, Lolita, Ulysses, Madame Bovary, Notes From the Underground, Last Exit to Brooklyn, Brand by Ibsen, The Painted Bird by Kosinski, Don Quixote, Falstaff, The Naked Ape, Candide, Moby Dick, The Plague, and Fear of Flying by Erica Jong.

Authors: Henry Green, John Hawkes, Proust, Kafka, Joyce, Karl Barth, Soren Kierkegaard, Ibsen, Paul Tillich, Knut Hamsun, Borges, H.G. Wells, Hawthorne, Whitman, Wilde, Chesterton,  G.B. Shaw, Nabokov, Sylvia Townsend Warner, Auden, Camus, Gunter Grass, Jean Genet, Marge Piercy, James Gould Cozzens, Hemingway, John Cheever, E.B. White, Norman Mailer, Saul Bellow, and Naipaul.

Updike, John. Picked-up Pieces. New York: Fawcett Press, 1989. Print.

Two by Joyce Carol Oates...

In the month of June I also read two books by Joyce Carol Oates: The Museum of Dr. Moses – Tales of Mystery and Suspense and Beasts.  Both of these were library books that have since been returned; hence, the reviews will be brief.

The Museum of Dr. Moses (2007) is not for readers who enjoy happy endings; however, if you enjoy Stephen King, you should add this book to your “to be read” list.  These stories had all been previously published in journals and magazines.  I am giving away nothing by including my quick notes on each story: “Hi! Howya Doin!” A friendly runner, “Suicide Watch” Father, son and missing grandson, “The Man Who Fought Roland La Starza” And his affair with the narrator’s mother & truth of his death, “Valentine, July Heat Wave” Unhappy divorce, “Bad Habits” Children of a serial killer, “Feral” Child gone bad, “The Hunter” Serial killer point of view, “The Twins: A Mystery” Mystery on two levels, “Stripping” Pedophile and former (?) victim, and “The Museum of Dr. Moses” Catharsis but is it a happy ending?

I love reading short story collections, and every story in this book was a page turner.

Beasts is a novella really – 138 pages – published in 2002.  Although I neglected to record the publisher, I do have some citations from this one and have decided to share exactly what I wrote in my journal after reading it.

“We are beasts and this is our consolation” (13).  “Trust not in appearances nor in what lies beneath” (14).

How does Oates do this?  She is such a prolific writer, and this novel hinted but did not clearly give away anything a moment too soon. 

It begins with Gillian jolted into a memory, not a confession:  “This is not a confession.  You will see, I have nothing to confess” (3).  And that one word, you, turns a simple first person memory into second person, if only briefly, and brings the reader into the novel as a witness to the memory.  Marvelous.

Two books I listened to...

I am definitely behind in my book blogging and will begin with the two I listened to most recently: The Red Garden by Alice Hoffman and A Good Dog: The Story of Orson, Who Changed My Life by Jon Katz.  Both books are excellent reads that deserve space on my library shelves.

Alice Hoffman’s novel tells the story of a small town in Massachusetts from its founding through the present day.  It is a series of interwoven short stories all of which involve the Red Garden.  Having listened to it, I cannot offer citations; however, as I was listening to the narrator read, memories resurfaced of what I loved about Here on Earth, Green Angel, and Turtle Moon.  Hoffman creates a world with characters you want to know, understand, or wish you had never met.  Her characters say or think things that do far more than advance the story.  Her writing forces you to savor a page, to read a passage more than once – not because it is difficult to understand but for the richness of the ideas and the language in which they are expressed.  I regret having given away two of her books and will be looking for this one.

Jon Katz’s memoir, A Good Dog: The Story of Orson, Who Changed My Life, is an extraordinary story of a border collie that changed the world of Jon Katz.  There are sad moments in the book; my sister Penny has vowed not to read any more books about animals because they always make you cry.  They may bring me to tears; however, I identify with the author and learned much from his experiences.  In his desire to understand Orson and help him be a happy dog, Katz took him for obedience training, sheep herding lessons, consulted multiple veterinarians, and animal communicators.  I agree with the steps he took and the decisions he made.  Another reader may disagree; that’s OK.  His explanations and meditations on aspects of life are what make this book a keeper – one I need to actually read.  The discussion of ecstatic places is important to an understanding of life.  I will never forget Orson, Rose, or Jon Katz.

Reflections on Major Barbara by George Bernard Shaw

Major Barbara is a play I have enjoyed reading and seeing in performance multiple times.  Having just read it again for my Great Books group, I decided a brief reflection is in order.

This play is the perfect read for thinking Americans today.  If you have ever read works by Shaw, you know that his plays are meant for thinkers; they are not light comedies.  This play includes discussions of morality and its varying definitions, responsibility of the state for its people, morality and religion or perhaps morality versus religion, and finally the crime of poverty.  Poverty is a crime?  Yes, if there is great wealth, there should be no poverty.  It is also about families:  mothers and sons, mothers and daughters, responsibility of fathers to their children.  And it is about love: parental love, couples in love, love for humankind.

If you have never read Shaw, shame on you!  Start with Major Barbara.  Even better...it is in performance at The Shaw Festival this year!

Shaw Festival Link!

More...I will always read more by Christopher Moore.

How does one go about writing a review of any novel by Christopher Moore?  I will begin with a line from The Stupidest Angel:   “The prior Christmas, Mavis’s fruitcake had put two people into detox.  She’d sworn that it would be the last year.  Mavis shrugged. ‘This cake’s nearly a virgin.  There’s only a quart of rum and barely a handful of Vicodin’” (164).  Mavis Sand is the proprietor of the Head of the Slug Saloon, and in Practical Demonkeeping, Christopher Moore’s first novel, I read her background story.  I would love to try her fruitcake.

This novel introduces the setting of Pine Cove, California: a town Moore revisits in other novels including The Stupidest Angel.  The reader meets important citizens such as Augustus Brine, owner of Brine’s Bait Tackle and Fine Wines.  How can you NOT love the world of Christopher Moore?

My first journey into Moore’s hysterically hilarious irreverent world was Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal when it made the Top Ten YA Books List from the American Librarian Association.  Reading his novels, I am guaranteed to be laughing out loud with tears streaming down my face.  After reading The Stupidest Angel for the first time, I knew I must seek out and read everything written by Christopher Moore.

The angel Raziel appears in both Lamb and The Stupidest Angel; Pine Cove is a town the reader will revisit many times.  And demonkeeping is a topic addressed in many of his works.  This novel tells the story of Travis, a man who has spent about 70 years traveling with the demon Catch and is trying to get rid of him – permanently.  I’ll close with a bit of dialogue between these two characters:

            Catch: “You’re trying to be tricky.  What’s morality?” 

Travis: “It’s the difference between what is right and what you can rationalize.” 

Catch: “Must be a human thing.” 

Travis: “Exactly.” (73).

Moore, Christopher. Practical Demonkeeping. New York: Harper, 2004. Print. (Originally published 1992).

---. The Stupidest Angel. New York: Harper Collins, 2004. Print.

POST SCRIPT - I also listened to The Photograph by Penelope Lively.  As I do not have a print copy of this book, I am unable to write a review; however, I did enjoy the story.  Decided on this book because I had read The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald several years ago.  Well...when I was at the library looking at the playaways, I thought Lively had written The Bookshop.  LOL  One books leads to another...

The Temple of the Golden Pavilion by Mishima Yukio

The last of three Japanese novels in my library The Temple of the Golden Pavilion requires giving what some readers may consider a spoiler; however, the storyline should not be the only reason to read a book.  This novel is historical fiction: information included on the cover and discussed in the Introduction by Nancy Wilson Ross:

In 1950, to the distress ad horror of all art-loving and patriotic Japanese, the ancient Zen temple of Kinkakuji in Kyoto was deliberately burned to the ground.  This Golden Pavilion, a rare masterpiece of Buddhist garden architecture, dated back over five hundred years to the days of the great Shogun, Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, military leader, aesthete, and powerful patron of the Zen cult. . . So revered was this historic and religious shrine that it enjoyed in Japan the status of a National Treasure.  It was willfully set fire to and destroyed by an unhappy and unbalanced student of Zen Buddhism. (vi)

But this knowledge should not stop anyone from reading The Temple of the Golden Pavilion.  Readers do not refuse to read historical fiction because they know the time period; that is precisely why we read historical fiction.  Readers enjoy reading a story that takes place with familiar markers or markers of interest.  I read this novel knowing it was Mishima’s interpretation of history; he used the incident and built a story around the perpetrator of the crime.

The Temple of the Golden Pavilion is told from the first person point of view of Mizoguchi, the student.  (This is not the real name of the student who burned down the temple). The novel is a confession and reads with the believability of non-fiction.  Things happen which the reader may or may not be able to connect as important to the story, but that is real life.  Every moment or action in life is not necessarily important, but it is all part of a complete life.  Mizoguchi is faced with situations that are problematic to him; individuals get in the way of his plans, but there is no one clearly taking the role of antagonist.  Mizoguchi is the antagonist in this novel; the temple is the protagonist.  Even as he prepares to set the fire, Mizoguchi contemplates its beauty:

Yet I did not know whether beauty was, on the one hand, identical with the Golden Temple itself or, on the other, consubstantial with the night of nothingness that surrounded the temple.  Perhaps beauty was both these things.  It was both the individual parts and the whole structure, both the Golden Temple and the night that wrapped itself about the Golden Temple.  (254)

A quick Google of the author made more interesting connections.  Mishima Yukio was far right politically.   He was short-listed for the Nobel Prize for Literature three times, and his political views probably kept this award from him.  He committed ritualistic suicide after his failure to overthrow the Japanese government in 1970. 

My brief foray into Japanese literature has been challenging and rewarding.  Having read a couple of books by Kenzaburo Oe after he was awarded the Nobel in 1994, I will probably return to them for a second reading.  Although I am ready for some lighter reading now, I have greatly enjoyed reading three very different novels, all considered to be classics from the literature of Japan.

Mishima, Yukio. The Temple of the Golden Pavilion. Translated by Ivan Morris. Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle Co., 1987. Print.