Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan

“Loving Frank” received excellent reviews, and it’s easy to see why. (I have some quibbles, but what else is new?) Frank Lloyd Wright’s love affair with Mamah (Mame-a) Borthwick Cheney ended when Mamah and six others died in a horrible crime at Wright’s Wisconsin home. Wright was in Chicago at the time; after his first wife, Catherine, finally granted him a divorce several years after Borthwick’s death, he married twice more. In this novel, Horan goes beyond the limited historical record to imagine who Mamah Borthwick was, both in relation to and separate from her famous lover.

Mamah left a husband and two children to be with Wright. Unlike today, the default custodian in a divorce was usually the husband, and divorce was treated as a scandal that warranted disdain and shunning. Both Wright and Borthwick were hounded by reporters and ripped apart in the press for having deserted their families, though Borthwick’s reputation suffered most. Now, hardly anyone is expected to stay in a loveless marriage, and divorce is mostly sad and little remarked upon past that. So credit is due to Wright and Borthwick for having helped blaze a trail so that the heartsick and miserable are no longer doomed to live unhappily forever.

Past that, however, I wasn’t that wild about the protagonists. Wright was wildly irresponsible with money and thought his contributions as an architect meant others should put up with his idiosyncracies and failures to pay his debts. Borthwick didn’t seem to think things through, and they both appeared to expect others to pick up after them, so to speak. Still, the story is intriguing, Horan writes well, and the well-researched background about Wright is enlightening. I’m recommending it unless you really, really insist on likable characters.

As for animals, there is a dog, Lucky, who disappears after the murders. Farm life, with its pros and cons regarding animals, is recounted with a smattering of detail. Borthwick visits a zoo. And of course there are horses. I am declaring this book is SAFE for animal lovers.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The House at Riverton, by Kate Morton

I am tagging this as historical fiction because Kate Morton does a fairly good job of evoking the years surrounding WWI. However, this is primarily a story about loyalty, secrets, miscommunications, love — and the frustrating lack of career options available to women until recent decades.

As a teenager, Grace Bradley is sent to work as a servant at Riverton House, one of those British mansions that seem to inhabit most novels set in England. Over time, she and one of the family’s daughters develop a bond, so that when Hannah marries, Grace goes with her. Grace is one of three people privy to what really happened when a young poet supposedly killed himself — and the way this is constantly being referred to, you know that it didn’t happen that way. The book has a frame, in which the elderly Grace is taken back to tell the tale of the death, which makes Grace more knowledgeable than she would be had the entire book been told in real time.

In fact, the narration is a problem for me. I don’t have a problem with the frame, and I don’t have a problem with Grace as a character or narrator. My issue is that Grace learns much of what she narrates by eavesdropping, hanging around, overhearing and, eventually, flat out admitting she couldn’t know what she’s about to tell and explaining how it came to be told to her. It’s as if Morton couldn’t decide between having a first-person or third-person narrator. I do think she made an understandable choice by going with Grace, but I sort of got fed up with the “lingering in the library” excuses. Grace is a participant in the book’s events, but she is not the driver. In fact, I believe Hannah would have been preferable as the narrator.

I also believe that much of the book, especially up front, could have been thinned out. It’s almost 500 pages, and it really shouldn’t have gone over 400. It seems as if Morton wanted to offer a picture of a large mansion and its inhabitants, maybe one of those sprawling family novels, but narrowed her focus too much and ended up with some flab in the story. Again, narration by Hannah might have allowed Morton to do everything she wanted with the plot while eliminating some of the rambling excuses Grace had to give to explain how she learned certain things.

But the ending … wow! And I’m not talking about the poet’s death. The real ending (which still could have worked with Hannah as narrator) packs a whallop, as they say.

I will recommend this to people who like this kind of book to begin with and don’t mind the perpetually lurking lady’s maid contrivance. It’s a good book, it’s just got some flaws.

As for animals, there are a couple of brief mentions of hunting casualties, plus a couple of references to horses and lap dogs, really nothing upsetting. So this book is SAFE for animal lovers.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Telex from Cuba, by Rachel Kushner

My first “real” job out of college was working as a white-collar minion for United Fruit, back when they were based in Boston. Of course, this was long after the company had been expelled from Cuba in the late 1950s, but I knew they had a dark and difficult past. One of the things I love about Telex from Cuba is how it tells that very story. Kushner writes with such skill and grace that it’s almost impossible to believe that this is a first novel.

Told from multiple points of view — including through the eyes of a few children, which I normally don’t like but which works well here — Telex begins by slowly laying out the background of the privileged few, who were white, American, and often brutal. Compassion was not a value in the company towns of Preston and Nicaro. Kushner then layers on the stories of the workers, who were essentially slaves, and the rebels, along with some of those operating along the sides. The latter include an unethical Frenchman and an erotic dancer. Add Batista, the Castro brothers, and grave doubts about those introduced earlier, and you have a roiling, boiling tale of pain, anger, and revolution.

Most of us only know Cuba as this strange and forbidden island to the south of the United States. Kushner offers a vivid and exciting history lesson that adds many necessary dimensions. I recommend this book very highly, with one caveat.

And here is the caveat: one of the primary purposes of this blog is to screen books for people who can’t stand to read about violence to animals, sad animal scenes, etc. If violence against animals bothers you so much that it’s a criteria in choosing what and what not to read, then you can’t read this book. It is COMPLETELY UNSAFE for animal lovers. I found it quite disturbing in that regard, and there’s so much of it that I can’t isolate pages to skip or otherwise give advice that might make it readable for animal lovers.  Birds, pigs, monkeys, you name it, the species probably does very poorly in this book. I loved Kushner’s writing and, especially, storytelling abilities. And I hope she dials back the animal violence and neglect in future efforts.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Behind the Scenes at the Museum, by Kate Atkinson

My friend Dana gave me this book, saying it was “depressing” and adding that you have to read the last 10-15 pages for it to all come together. I’m going to disagree with Dana this time – for me, Ruby, the chirpy, young narrator, single-handedly keeps Behind the Scenes at the Museum from being depressing. I found a lot of comedy in this book despite the sad and tragic moments, and Ruby is one of the most endearing characters I’ve ever encountered. This is a well-told, intriguing tale of a young girl trying to find out just who she is and how her family history has molded herself and those around her. Her personal history is the Museum of the title, and it’s overflowing. The various mysteries of the book are all eventually explained, but if you are one of these people who can’t stand not knowing, go ahead and flip to the end. I’ll just recommend that you delay that for as long as you possibly can. I made it about halfway through the book before I succumbed.

Descended from a long line of unloved daughters who became bitter, unloving mothers, Ruby has a bitter, unloving mother of her own, Bunty. And Bunty was raised by the bitter and unloving Nell, who was raised by the bitter and unloving Rachel despite being the biological daughter of sad Alicia. These women and their sisters fall for the wrong men, bear children in and out of wedlock, and otherwise live grim, despairing lives. Except … each has a chance to for better, or at least different, lives. That chance is often squandered or snatched away from them in a moment. Sometimes, that moment involves a war. Sometimes, things just go wrong because life is messy. Ruby’s valiant effort to make some sense of life’s messiness and break the pattern, despite some danger of falling into it herself, is only a small part of the plot.

There are mysteries, as I noted above, most of which involve Ruby and her sisters. When your narrator begins with her own conception and doesn’t go much beyond her 16^th birthday, the perspective can be skewed. In Ruby’s case, it’s very skewed. Yet she remains ever the optimist, believing that she is lovable despite the many cold shoulders she encounters at home. I, for one, love Ruby. And it becomes clear that Bunty, a miserable wretch of a mother, has some fight in her, too.

Did I mention that this book is set in the UK? And that Kate Atkinson is possibly the first British author I’ve ever read who didn’t mention London?

 Anyway, I am very sad to say that this book is UNSAFE for animal lovers. There are lots of animal deaths. One of the male characters is in charge of dog messengers used on the front lines in WWI, for example. His experiences are extremely sad and disturbing. Ruby’s family lives upstairs from a pet shop. That’s also extremely sad. Bunty does something vile to a pet (who ends up being rescued). And there are other incidents. If it really disturbs you to read about bad things happening to animals, you don’t want to read this book. Otherwise, if you can get past that, I’m recommending it.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

Recommended for my book group and long on my reading list, this book was quite enjoyable even though it had a few elements of those insufferably twee British novels that are over-stuffed with eccentrics behaving cutely. Yes, there were eccentrics behaving cutely. But I sensed a moderating hand — thanks, moderating hand! — and in the end, the book was more what I’d call “easily accessible historical fiction” than anything else. I guess that means it’s also a beach book. Well, it’s out in paperback now and it’s beach season, so have at it! In other words, yes, I’m recommending this book.

“Guernsey” is told through a series of letters to or from writer Juliet Ashton, a young woman seeking purpose in post-WWII London. And many of Juliet’s correspondents are from Guernsey, one of the Channel Islands. The Nazis captured and occupied the Channel Islands, but not until after many of the children were sent to other parts of England. What followed were complex interactions among the locals and the Nazis, struggles to survive in the face of blockades by both sides of the war, and the ethical dilemmas that resulted. This is where the twee dies in the face of the poignant. Before Churchill relented and allowed Red Cross ships to provide crucial supplies, the islands were denuded of trees in order to provide fuel, the residents and occupiers nearly starved, and most of the pets were euthanized (and farm animals killed for meat) in order to preserve resources that the people needed. The authors give a strong sense of courage in a desperate situation, but the book stays about as light as is possible given the circumstances. And in the end, twee rises to live again and everyone who’s still around goes on to live happily ever after, or something like that. Please don’t be put off by my cynical tone — I loved this book, I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, and I give it my highest recommendation. I just thought the occasional twee moments were kind of odd.

As for animals, I already mentioned that most of the pets had to be put down in order to keep them from eating food the already-starving people needed to survive. Each family was allowed to keep one, but no more. Exceptions existed for egg-laying poultry and, in the book, birds were better off than other species. For example, intrepid parrot Zenobia captures a villain.

But the mass euthanasia breaks my heart. It would be a terrible situation for a pet owner, and yet from a logical standpoint, it had to be done. War is violent, and animals do not receive a special dispensation even though they are innocent bystanders. There is also a sad moment where the “pig whisperer” kills the last one after having scratched its back in a friendly way. Feral cats and dogs fared no better. And there are a couple of other mentions of harm coming to specific animals.

After much thought, I am going to declare this book MOSTLY SAFE for animal lovers. The actions against animals are much more told than described, and you’ll know from reading this review if the mass euthanasia would be too much for you. It’s important to remember the consequences of war, I think, and this was one of them. Otherwise, the book is a delight, and most people will enjoy it.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Katherine, by Anya Seton

Anya Seton was the Philippa Gregory of her day, and vice versa. We know Gregory as the author of The Other Boleyn Girl and similar historical fiction told from the female point of view. In acknowledgement of her predecessor, Gregory has used her success as an author to promote Seton’s books, written in the 1940s and 1950s. As a result, some of Seton’s works have been reissued, with forewords by Gregory.

While there is a dated quality about Katherine, I think Gregory has done the right thing in trying to get it and other Seton books back into circulation. Aside from some relatively chaste bodice-ripping, along with a bit of overwrought yearning, Seton has written a well-crafted history of Medieval England. In Katherine, she tells the story of Katherine Swynford, third wife of John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster during the reigns of Edward III and Richard II. Although they married late in life, Katherine and Lancaster became lovers shortly after the death of his first wife, Blanche, to whom Katherine was also devoted. (Why didn’t they marry sooner? This was the 14th century, when royal marriages were based on political alliances.)

Seton takes us through wars, rebellions, and the plague, deftly using her characters to show us life at all levels, from the poorest serfs up to the most self-centered kings. I finished this book feeling as if I knew more about what it was to be alive then, regarding the customs, the clothing, the values, etc.

I know of John of Gaunt primarily through Shakespeare plays and the odd bit of history. Seton’s portrayal of him as politically astute and mostly benign — except for one vengeful period following a questioning of his legitimacy — is echoed in Wikipedia which, while not being the ultimate authority, backs up Seton’s take on the man. His vengeance, however, led to the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 and the destruction of his luxurious Savoy Palace. In one of her most harrowing and strongest chapters, Seton shows Katherine and a daughter trapped in the palace at the time of the attack.

So I definitely recommend this book, if you will keep in mind that it’s long, and writing styles have changed over the decades. Neither of those facts should put you off, however.

As for animal lovers, this book is set in the Middle Ages. They did things differently back then. Bull-baiting was considered fun, and other activities we wouldn’t tolerate were routine. But really, this book is MOSTLY SAFE for animal lovers. There’s the occasional beast of burden that needs more rest than it’s had; Katherine feels affection for her horse, Doucette; a dog is kicked; royalty fuss over their falcons; and children play with kittens. I didn’t come across any especially gruesome or sad scenes that couldn’t be ignored.