There is No Dog

Who doesn't love the idea of God just wandering around every day among us? . Meg Rosoff's book There is No Dog is designated a YA novel and the God portrayed here is a malodorous, lazy late adolescent named Bob who won control of this world through his mother's poker game. His assistant--the also-ran for control of this earth--admits Bob has had flashes of brilliance in some of his creations. Mr B marvels that the same God who leaves his dirty clothes in a moldering heap by the side of the bed could have created golden eagles and elephants and butterflies. Such moments of transcendent inspiration! Other creatures fill him with admiration as well--heavy loping striped tigers and graceful long-necked swans, creaking as they fly,. Ludicrous pincushion porcupines. The problem, as Mr B sees it--somewhat resentful that he wasn't considered good enough for the role of God all by himself--is that Bob loses interest easily. He's distracted, gets bored, can't be bothered, or he falls in lust with some human girl and, incidentally, unleashes cataclysmic weather events.

This particular  predicament is how the book opens. Bob has become infatuated by Lucy, a local 21 year old intern at the zoo. He realizes, dimly, that he can't appear as a burning bush, or in full angelic attire, but he's flummoxed how to proceed. Mr B is being less helpful than ever, partly because he's planning his escape to another world as soon as he can. After all, he's spent eons cleaning up after Bob and he's tired of it. This world is a mess, getting messier as Bob chases Lucy--the town is practically underwater already.  Bob's mother is even less help as she's too busy getting drunk and playing poker against Emoto Hed, a god whose presence becomes  a devastating absence, a malignant Hed-shaped void sucking all light and heat into its core. No, Bob is on his own. He even loses his one-of-a-kind pet, an Eck, an odd penguiny sort of creature with the long elegant nose of an anteater, beady eyes, and soft gray fur.


Will Bob have his way with Lucy? Will Eck be eaten by Emoto Hed, as threatened? Will the world fall apart under the strain of a hormonal God, or will Mr B pull his dignity together and stick around to solve once and for all the Bob problem. Rosoff certainly has fun with her premise and it works, mostly. There are, indeed, flashes of brilliance, but it's a little hard to have to come face-to-face with a fairly unlikeable God, and I was left not too invested in anyone.

The Brothers K

For the first third of David James Duncan's gigantic, 650 page book, I was in love. I could not get enough of The Brothers K and I don't even like baseball which features prominently in this book. Still, it's about baseball the way Friday Night Lights was about football. Really, the story is about the Chance family and their collective and separate journeys through the 20 ugly years that start in the late 50s. I say ugly because, remember that the bulk of this period involves the Vietnam War. I also say ugly because, hey, it includes the 1970s.

Papa Toe Chance (though he gets this nickname late in life when, yes, his mangled thumb is replaced by his big toe in what must have been cutting edge surgery back then) is a pitching wonder. Life has intervened (even before the mangled thumb) and he has a growing family, an adored religious zealot for a wife, and fading dreams of pitching. Drink is more appealing to him, though the Seventh Day Adventist spirit in the house often precludes that option.

The religion is tough to take, perhaps tougher than the baseball jargon. Sure, I glided over a few descriptions of long innings, but I devoured young Kincaid's description of two announcers and their patter. "Call us Diz and Pee, for short!" Enthuses the more entertaining of the two. Poor Pee Wee Reese has to play straight man to this guy, but it makes for entertaining exchanges. Kincaid says, "[Dizzy] tells you things you hadn't notice, and things that have nothing to do with what's happening, and he gets mad at umps, makes fun of bad plays and players, calls errors 'eras' and basemen 'sackers,' tells lies, brags, invents fake statistics to win arguments, and generally grates on Pee Wee's nerves till you feel you're really living through a flesh-and-blood ballgame instead of sitting in your house staring at a box."

That kind of patter might make even me pay attention to a game. The problem with this particular game is that it's taking place on the Adventists' sabbath day and Kincaid and his father--he of the still-mangled thumb-- are breaking all sorts of rules set by their mother. Laura is so devout (and devoted to Elder Babcock) that it eventually causes a rift in the family, with the non-believer children doomed to hell in her mind (and therefore no longer destined to be under her earthly care) and the three who still believe. The father gets a pass. Sure, later--at the very end, we find out the source of Laura Chance's blind, determined devotion to her faith. Though it falls a little flat and comes a little late, it all makes sense in the end, and this is after the most devout and kind and thoughtful of her children has been mangled by the Vietnam War, abandoned by his church, and cast out for his very beliefs.

The rescue of Irwin from the clutches of those who thought they could best help him could have been a joke. Picture the scene: A motley assortment of Chance family members, Adventists, including a visiting Korean elder, and some hangers-on arriving at a military psych ward in a couple of Winnebagoes. Throw in a dash of the terrible fashions of the 1970s and Duncan could have just made fun of everyone and called it a day. Instead, the scene becomes quite moving and heals a rift among believers and non-believers, drinkers and academics, baseball-lovers and those who have abandoned the sport, draft dodgers and those damaged more directly by war. Those who want to sing Adventist songs and those who want to storm the place to rescue the lost son. This episode is what won me back. Zealotry of any kind--religious, political, academic, spiritual, is never the answer, Duncan seems to say, but family is. Family matters and never mind how crazy that family turns out to be, you shouldn't let go. Even if it takes 650 pages to sort out what the heck is going on in the Chance family. As one brother's political college paper column is called, "Give Chance a Peace." Give this book a go, just be ready to commit yourself.

*You do not have to have intimate knowledge of either The Brothers Karamazov or Russian literature in general, but it might add a level of enjoyment or understanding.