Disappointing.October 15, 2008 3 out of 3 found this review helpful
It certainly upsets me a little to think at how good this book could have been. The beautiful descriptive passages rambled on ad infinitum while the intriguing minor plot points were left to dangle without any sort of conclusion. As someone who loves dogs, even I was sick of hearing about them by the end of the book. I can also say that I would usually prefer a tragic ending to a sappy one, but this one seemed abrupt and practically forced. At risk of sounding like a high school English teacher, the author clearly has talent but his finished work just simply isn't polished.
Devastatingly PowerfulOctober 14, 2008 4 out of 5 found this review helpful
To reduce this book to simply a re-telling of Hamlet would be to minimize the emotional finesse of this writer. Each word, each chapter, each perspective curled its hand around my heart, refusing to release its grip. Wrobleski is not only a great storyteller but an elegant writer.
I fell in love with this young mute boy, his soulmate Almondine, and all the other Sawtelle dogs. Certainly, this book parallels many events and characters from Shakespeare's famous play; yet, Wrobleski adds a depth to the characters, something missing from the play. Claude, though despicable, was less of a villian and more of a desperate human. Trudy, while self-absorbed, deeply loves her son and misses her husband.
I was saddened by the ending. I knew it was approaching, and I knew the inevitability of it; yet I was saddened. Nonetheless, tragedy befalls us all, regardless of our invitation. Edgar is courageous; he is heroic. He carried on his father's--and grandfather's--legacy. He is a beautiful human being and doesn't deserve his fate, but we cannot forget his life. Our days with Edgar weren't for naught; they will remain with us. So too will his legacy remain with his dogs. He did not try to discipline or to overpower. He gave the gift of choice, of freedom, and--ultimately--of love.
Oh come on now!October 14, 2008 7 out of 13 found this review helpful
First of all, I love reading. No, really, I mean I LOVE reading. Books have been my best friends since I learned the art. Of this book, and the positive reviewers, I ask -- WHAT AM I MISSING??? I read the review on the back of the book by Stephen King and thought to myself it just HAS to be good if one of the most talented modern writers gave it such glowing praise. Then, Oprah picked it (not that that is any reference in itself) -- and it was about dogs. How could a book about dogs NOT miss. Well, the book missed for me. Big time! REAL big time. It took me three weeks to finish this book and that seldom happens; in fact, I can count on one hand the amount of times I've labored over a story. People say this has is reminiscent of Hamlet. Well, d'oh, how much closer could it have gotten. The Hamlet references were almost handed to us. I caught nothing so 'WOW' type of special between Edgar and the dogs. Yeah, yeah sure he was a great trainer and had empathy with them but I didn't feel it in my heart. Not in my heart. Certainly not like 'Merle's Door'. Now I ask myself why King raved about this book and wonder if Oprah even read it! This book didn't work for me on any level.
A missOctober 14, 2008 2 out of 2 found this review helpful
Wroblewski is a fabulous writer, and there is much here to appreciate, but there are also a lot of problems. The ways the author made the story mirror Hamlet are often ham-fisted, and he's really at his best when he pulls away from that aspect of the story. The ending is forced, at best, and 200 pages could easily be shaved off without sacrificing the plot, the (underdeveloped) characters, or even the shading. There is a ton of talent on display here, but for me, this is a failure of a novel. A noble failure, but a failure nonetheless.
One of the best books I've read this yearOctober 14, 2008 3 out of 3 found this review helpful
This book is nearly flawless, as flawless and perfect as any book written by a mere human can realistically be. The simplistic synopsis about Edgar Sawtelle, a mute boy who comes to believe his uncle killed his father and then wormed his way into Edgar's widowed mother's affections, doesn't even begin to hint at the jewel that lies underneath the Hamlet-esque, thriller veneer. There is so much more than initially meets the eye, and Wroblewski brings the world of Edgar to life in such a way that this boy becomes a part of the reader somehow. The book resonates with images and scenes that are both visual and tactile at the same time: the deep north woods, the bitter winter that falls over both the land and the lives of the Sawtelles, betrayal in its simplest, cruelest form, and the dogs.
Yes, dogs are an important part of this story, for the Sawtelles are dog breeders - and not just breeders, but essentially creators, as Edgar's grandfather establishes a breed early on that come to be known simply as "Sawtelle dogs", known for their almost uncanny ability to think critically beyond simple command obedience. This is no heartless, puppy mill-ish operation, either. The Sawtelle dogs are treated like the treasures they are, bred carefully in small numbers, and meticulously placed when the time comes. The in-depth detail about breeding, genetics and records may surprise many with its astonishing complexity, but in weaving the details together it becomes clear that the lives of the Sawtelle dogs are inextricably wound into the landscape and the lives of the Sawtelles, especially Edgar, and will figure prominently in the final, explosive resolution of the story. One of the most moving sections of the book are the chapters describing the intense longing Edgar and his most beloved dog, Almondine, feel for each other during their separation. Wroblewski's foray into the mind of the dog, especially, is stunning in its simply expressed yet complexly-felt beauty. It was the one point in the book that made me cry - not from sadness, but from the sheer exquisiteness of language and feeling.
As mentioned on the book's dustjacket, it's the double helix of the entrance of Edgar's Uncle Claude (his father's brother) into the Sawtelle's previously peaceful, contented lives, and the death of Edgar's beloved father, that sends Edgar into a tailspin. His profound grief turns to unspeakable fury when he comes to believe that his father didn't die accidentally after all, but was instead killed by his brother's own hand when Claude couldn't bear seeing all that his brother had, coveting it for himself. One night, a shattering specter in the rain blows Edgar's world and heart open, and from then on he has a mission to expose all. However, when he tries in his own unique way to state his case, the plan backfires tragically and Edgar is forced to flee into the wilderness with three of his dogs at his side. It's difficult to describe the palpable, creeping apprehension I felt from the very moment Claude appeared in the story. Even though he never really does nothing overt - and this is one of the many points of Wroblewski's subtle brilliance - the malice and danger that emanates from him, and the threat his presence seems to bring, is as powerful as a strong taste left in the mouth. Never is that sinister patience more ominous than when, during a nighttime family card game with Edgar and his parents, he casually yet pointedly tells Edgar (I'm paraphrasing here) that some things are worth waiting a long time for, and that moving slowly brings the most significant reward. It literally sent a shiver down my spine. Oh, if only Edgar had known, as the reader does, just how prophetic and meaningful that statement would be!
One theme that jumped out at me - and I have no idea if this is the author's intent or not - is that of selfishness. A word with many connotations and associations, but I can't think of a better one at the moment. I already loathed Claude, but I came to dislike Edgar's mother Trudy, as well, due to their utterly distilled focus on themselves and their needs above all else, each in their own way. On the surface you would never think of Trudy as `selfish'. She's a grieving widow, after all, and that grief is genuine. She's also inscrutable, however, and you never really know what's going on beneath her perfectly controlled demeanor. Her actions, therefore, speak terrible volumes. It's an interesting point for me personally because I've had people accuse me of being selfish - for choosing a childless life, for spending my money and focusing my attention on having nice material things and surroundings, etc., yet what is the nature of true selfishness; true narcissism? Beyond superficial acquisitions and the like, what of the quiet, relentless determination to do and take whatever it is in life that you want, despite the consequences and regardless of whom it hurts? There's an almost sociopathic element to a person like that; something cold and bloodless that is truly chilling.
I can't recall the last time I was so deeply drawn in to a story, so emotionally involved! I wanted nothing more than to burst through those pages and snatch Claude by the neck, so intense was my loathing and fear - yes, fear - of his intangible, looming menace. I wanted to throttle Trudy and rescue Edgar. I wanted to fall on the barn floor with the dogs like Edgar does and let them swarm over me in joyous play. Everything about this book is that visceral, from the description of the fierce northern winter, the daily chores involved in breeding and training dogs, and most of all the potent, unspoken undercurrents of emotion and deception in the Sawtelle household, so taut that even the pages seem delicate, breakable at a touch. The tension the author builds throughout is nothing short of brilliant, yet executed with such deceptive simplicity that it still manages to grab you by the throat when the time comes.
I don't know where David Wroblewski has been all my life, but I think I'm in literary love. (I'm being facetious here - this is his first novel). Needless to say I'm looking forward to whatever he offers next, but until then at least I can content myself with re-reading this one a few times, which I will undoubtedly do.
