Book Review-"Even The Dogs" by Jon McGregor

My review of Even The Dogs was one that I took under careful consideration. This was an unusual book which, it was clear, would shock some readers, while hitting home with others. In a technical sense, the author shows his mastery of the craft of writing, and his deep understanding of the human condition as it applies to those who frequent the underbelly of society. Is this through a personal acquaintance with a seamy, dark life among the scavengers of a middle class existence, of those who do not "succeed" but chase after the crumbs and detritus of the lives they never quite "managed"? Or does McGregor have the gift of placing himself in the skin of his characters so completely that his stream-of-consciousness dialogue becomes disturbing to the reader? This dialogue, often trailing off mid-sentence, or seeming to lose its focus as it begins another story within a story, is often an indictment of those of us who can observe the "low crawlers" of this society and feel nothing but contempt for their apparent weakness in the face of temptation. In fact, the dialogue is a tool McGregor employs that carries the reader from the scene at hand to events that led to the present catastrophe or dilemma, or has the potential to suggest redemption, just out of reach of the speaker. Some readers may feel only compassion for the ruined lives before them, the bad choices, the potential unrecognized, the humanity withheld, while other readers wonder how to feel pity for these people who choose to live their lives in dirty holes, apartments full of used needles and the vomit of past trips into an ecstasy only felt, never realized in any concrete world? Either way, McGregor has accomplished his task of placing before his readers a world of dark and light, depending from where the reader views it. It is a book filled with only a few days, but days jammed full of the existence of people who fill every minute with a desperation that makes the time seem longer, the end seem closer, the parallels more distant. I think the novel is a success. Its success makes it neither easier to read nor more pleasant for the reader. It makes Jon McGregor a master at manipulating dialogue and characterization into a world clamoring to be remembered, a literary device that allows each reader to carry away from "Even The Dogs" what they will, be it positive or negative. It seems a given that it will not be forgotten easily. ( )

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Book Review of Little Women

Oh, book of little women about your little men! I was charmed by Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women" and I'm bound to read another book by her. It has been suggested that I read "Eight Cousins." I could not help but notice that each of the girls is involved in the pursuit of a man to make her life complete, because as she sees it, the formation of a family is the focus of a young man or woman's life, and why be coy about it? The characters in "Little Women" each of whom the reader follows from childhood to young adulthood into motherhood, are a combination of saucy, bitingly honest, refreshingly sincere and touchingly common, in the gentlest sense of the word. Even the vocabulary reflects their station in life. At any given point, the reader can find a sentence in which the character states "It don't mean" or she "don't intend to" but they do not lack commonsense or book smarts, as provided by their home-schooling mother, fondly called"Marmee." Money is never the focus of their love interests, while still being of key importance to young women who always struggled for more than the basic necessities. And yet, when necessary, they gave generously of what they called their own, be it time, money, clothing or food. Throughout the book, Jo, Meg, Amy and Beth, lovingly exist in their plain home next to the dwelling of the Laurence boy, Teddy. His friendship with them is of long-standing, in fact, he finally becomes a part of the family. Each of the girls has their own special quality that serves them best and makes them special to the other members of the family. Jo is focused on primarily, and she, in turn, focuses on the family for the readers, who see them through Jo's eyes. There is Meg, proper oldest sister, who becomes a model of domesticity for her younger sisters, and Amy, the painfully shy youngest sister, talented piano player, much beloved of Mr. Laurence, the girls benefactor and appointed grandfather, who has a piano moved to the house for the March girls pleasure. Beth,next youngest, is never quite well, but decidedly proper and made much of by her sisters, particularly Jo.And then, Jo, the writer, outspoken and unabashedly opinionated, admired by her sisters, self-appointed protector and instructor for Teddy. 
Not only were the characters quite fun to observe as they developed into "little women" but the story was well-written, full of literary allusions and other well noted references. Each chapter is titled and progresses the story to its conclusion, in which the March sisters are happily ensconced within their small, nuclear families. It was a relaxing pleasure to read "Little Women" and I did not find it syrupy sweet as I suspected I might due to the era in which it was written. No, I looked forward to the ways in which they solved each of their dilemmas and I think I read it at the appropriate time in my life, when I seemed to benefit from an enduring classic of the American home. It seemed to me not unlike a memoir, and as it is based loosely on Alcott's life I think it is safe to say it was fiction's closest cousin. I recommend it highly, and also suggest it for a family read.

Death and The Living

We don't think much about death until it affects us directly. When a family member is struck down or cursed with an incurable illness or disease closely affected friends or family begin to live in a netherworld of twisted emotions, ugly foreboding and potential collapse. Revelations of all sorts become a daily rejoinder, memories, predictions, questions and realizations rushing in. My mother-in-law has been cursed with the Big C, The Cancer, Renal cancer metastasized to lymph nodes, cancer in her chest cavity, her body a morass of uncontrollable invaders. "Why her?" queries segue into prayers to keep her comfortable in these, her last days. Prayers to lessen her suffering by distributing it among her faithful followers, we, her family, are shouted to the Universal Gods. The knowledge that a life of sacrifice and oceans of time toiling for others, both family and friends, has come to this, a solitary bed, equipped to manage the failing systems and the drugs and fluids transported by tubes, each painfully and mercilessly inserted, injected, affixed. Tubes are hanging from an ingenious metal framework like extra appendages, tubes wrapped around and protruding from pumps, clicking, whirring, buzzing pumps. Have you been there? A place that is best quickly forgotten, a place of last resort, The Hospital is nevertheless the lifesaving ring we seek when struck by a health crisis. Grateful in the knowledge that The Hospital is there when we fall, it quickly becomes a nightmare to run from, to escape from, to recover from. Having worked in one or two,I have always seen the more human side of The Hospital, employers, friends, acquaintances, fellow sufferers of the Harbinger of Death, a hospital stay.

Snow was falling...

Hello World! The world of technology is very off-putting. In order to communicate with others I have had to learn the lingo first, then learn the right steps to take to leave a message. After losing so many to cyberspace (the proverbial Black Hole) I am simply trying the simplest approach. Send others to my site where they can read a post intended for them. Hopefully, they will come out to play, and we can get to work on our writing! Today I meant to go to a big Library sale at one of the local libraries and got so carried away with what I was doing on the computer that I never even looked up. When I finally did. snow was falling quite steadily and it was too darn late to go to the library. I hope that those I have directed to my sites find them without much of a problem...

Book Review-Dogtown

This is my review of the book Dogtown that I checked out of the library at Stafford. It is the second review this year-
http://www.librarything.com/work/9027423/reviews/55181520

Life is too short...

Life is too short. Unfortunately, that appears to become clear to us only when we are faced with the end of our life, or the life of a loved one. While we make our way through the doldrums of everyday life,we often find that time slips by quickly, almost completely without notice. Suddenly another week has gone by and another month, soon we are celebrating another birthday, and our pets are beginning to get white around their muzzle. 

With a loved one in my family at the mercy of a fatal illness, time is a commodity. I keep looking back and wondering if there was a way that I could have made more of the time we spent together which now seems so brief. There is no way to stop the marching on of time. Each day I am painfully aware of the ticking of the clock, aware of what the family faces in just a short time. That the end of her life will be the end of my life as I know it, in so many crucial ways. That our extended family will grow distant without her presence as the glue that binds us together. That my children will no longer learn life lessons in love, in how to give of oneself unselfishly, in how to be a mother. That I will no longer have her unconditional love and guidance, her unselfish way of letting me know that I made her proud, or happy, or simply that I made her laugh.