Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

First up, I have two very strong objections to this book, a rewrite of Jane Austen’s classic Pride and Prejudice into a rather juvenile goof.

Objection #1: Everyone knows Mr. Darcy is a werewolf. Come on, Seth. You screwed this up big time. If you were going to do this, you could have at least done it right. And now I’m to understand that someone else has written Sense and Sensibilities and Sea Monsters? No, no, no, a thousand times no! Here are the correct match-ups of Austen and monsters:

• Pride and Prejudice and Werewolves
• Emma and Zombies
• Sense and Sensibility and Shapeshifters
• Persuasion and Sea Monsters
• Northanger Abbey and Vampires
• Mansfield Park and Witches

Get it right, people!

Objection #2: Seth over-edited the beginning. Granted, Austen often starts slow, but in the early pages, Mr. Darcy makes these weird comments that make me think, “who is this guy, how did he get here, and why is he sitting around spouting random, out-of-context, rude remarks?” Fortunately, this is a temporary problem, and anyone familiar with Austen’s original story will be able to fill in the blanks. But still … the guy isn’t given his due as a werewolf, and then he’s also the weirdo in the corner who blathers autistically? Not right, Seth!

These two objections aside, this is a wonderful book. I loved it, I laughed at it, and I recommend it. Only a prig wouldn’t enjoy it. In fact, it was recommended by a woman I consider to be one of the most devoted and knowledgeable Jane Austen scholars not employed by a university. So buy it. Make Seth rich and further his career. The fact that he mucked up Darcy’s werewolfishness becomes a detail once you get into the story.

And as this blog exists for the purpose of warning people about books in which animals are harmed or neglected or otherwise meet bad ends, I have to get serious. There are lots of horses, and since they are often the key to people escaping the zombies, they are worried about and protected. That’s not to say there’s never horse on the menu in Zombieland, but it’s referenced, not shown. There are also deer, who are dear to the Bennet girls. They’re not harmed, either. So this book is SAFE for animal lovers.

And Darcy is a werewolf, dammit!

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of You Must Be This Happy to Enter, by Elizabeth Crane

This book is awesome! And great!

Actually, it’s “very good,” I’m just playing with the title of the first story in the book. Elizabeth’s Cranes surreal short stories deal with happiness, pain, and sincerity. Most of the characters are striving, constantly striving, to achieve some sort of emotional satisfaction. In fact, one of the most touching stories is about Betty, a zombie who tries to improve herself on a reality TV show in order to please her beloved husband, Ed. (Betty and Ed also have a dog, Boone, whom Betty tries not to eat.)

Crane asks and sort of answers a number of intriguing hypothetical questions, like: what would you do if you were perfectly happy and capable of limited time travel, while you also passionately loved an imprisoned man who was perfectly happy and delighted to stay in jail? What if your entire town became invisible except for people’s bodies? What if your baby turned into a fully-grown movie star overnight? How would you adapt and strive for happiness under those circumstances?

Crane also watches a fair amount of reality TV, or so I assume. In fact, I strongly suspect that she and I have similar tastes.

I found Crane’s book to be delightful, though, as with most short story collections, I needed to take a few breaks instead of reading it in a couple of sessions. And I’m blaming a few nights of weird dreams on Crane, definitely. But I do recommend it. And regardless of what might happen to the possibly imperiled Boone and what does happen in another story to a pit bull named Damien, I am declaring this book SAFE for animal lovers.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Second Honeymoon, by Joanna Trollope

This book was a disappointment in that it was merely brain candy. The only thing I got from it is that I don’t quite understand why Trollope is so popular. Fine, she writes well, but I didn’t care for her characters. This was the story of a family of self-absorbed and selfish individuals. After a while, I started wondering why I was supposed to care what they wanted – and they all wanted something, usually in the form of capitulation by other family members. How boring!

So let’s see what’s wrong with the Boyd family. Edie wants her adult children to each be about 20 years younger than they are and can’t deal with the fact that the baby of the family finally left home. Her husband, Russell, feels she should be shifting her attention back to him now. This actually makes sense, though it’s easier said than done, obviously, and Edie appears to have zero interest in Russell as anything other than a sperm donor and emergency-back-up parent to her children. Oldest child Matt wants his girlfriend, Ruth, to read his mind about his financial situation, since he won’t discuss it with her and stupidly breaks up with her over information he never shared. Middle child Rosa loses her job and wants some support from those around her, which makes sense except that she’s somewhat demanding, which is off-putting. And youngest child Ben wants to live with his girlfriend and no one else, but instead lives with her and her mother. Man up, Ben! There’s also a sad-sack adult orphan whom Edie sort of adopts, and his problem is that he isn’t even together enough to want anything.

Finally, there’s a cat, Arsie, who wants a warm place to nap. Arsie makes sense, which most of the people seem to recognize. And therefore this book is SAFE for animal lovers. But I don’t recommend it.

However, one interesting thing Trollope did after the acknowledgements was to recommend other books. Of those I’d already read, about half were good and half were bombs. I have subsequently read a few of the other books, and the 50/50 split remains. Their reviews are forthcoming.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Accidental, by Ali Smith

This intriguing book took a while to pull me in, in part because Smith used four distinct narrators – and counting the prologue and final chapter, she used five – and began with the weakest one. But this story of how each member of a nuclear family responds to a stranger in their midst did eventually capture my imagination, to the point where I continued thinking about the several days after I finished reading it. (The back cover blurb referencing a “startling, wonderfully enigmatic conclusion” is quite accurate.)

In the story, a young woman named Amber enters the summer home of the Smart family: Eve, Michael, teenaged Magnus, and 12-year-old Astrid. Eve thinks Amber is yet another student Michael is messing around with on the side; Michael thinks she’s a business associate of Eve’s; Magnus thinks with his hormones; and Astrid is simply in over her head. What does Amber want, and why is she there? Why is she accepted so blindly by the Smarts? These and other questions may or may not be answered, but it’s an interesting journey regardless. As for the outcome, the ending almost made me reread the entire book. But I didn’t — not yet, at least. I do recommend the book, but please be patient at the beginning. It’s worth it, but you may spend a number of pages wondering about that.

As for animals, this book is SAFE for animal lovers. There is an unspecified dead thing that gets Astrid’s attention, some unpleasant facts about bees are revealed, and a few fleeting odds and ends, nothing more.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks

Let’s get the snark out of the way: This is the best book about the plague I’ve ever read.

in fact, it’s an excellent book, I highly recommend it, and it will be among the books I suggest for my book group to read for next time. Based on real-life events in the remote English village of Eyam in 1665, Year of Wonders describes the fate of the villagers after they decide to isolate themselves in order to avoid spreading the disease to others. The protagonist, a housemaid named Anna, joins with Elinor, the wife of the town’s minister, in reconstructing the craft of two murdered herbalists in an attempt to determine how best to care for the sick while strengthening those who are well. As families disintegrate due to the deaths of loved ones, they increasingly find themselves making decisions that affect the entire community.

I liked the pacing, the writing style, and the characterizations. I also thought Brooks achieved a rare depth — this is a book that made me think, unlike some of the “brain candy” novels that just fill the time. Her research appears to have been thorough, yet she doesn’t smack you in the face with the notion that you’re reading a well-researched book. I hate it when authors fling little factoids at the reader to show off their work, and I imagine Brooks had many opportunities to do that, but she presented a balanced, well-integrated story. I did feel the ending was a bit rushed and somewhat fantastic compared to the rest of the story, yet it worked for me.

There is quite a bit of death in this book, and some violence against people. As for animals, there is a horse named Anteros who plays a significant role in the story. Anna takes over a dead person’s cow and helps a sheep deliver a lamb. Although the absence of cats and dogs were a factor in the overpopulation of the rats that spread of the plague, Brooks only mentions this in her afterword, which makes sense since there would have been no way for Anna to make that connection. I am declaring this book to be SAFE for animal lovers.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Teahouse Fire, by Ellis Avery

A few weeks ago, I wrote about reading history books, noting that novels can help provide a more complete picture of history, beyond the standard account of politics and wars. The Teahouse Fire is a case in point.

I don’t feel this book worked as a novel. To be blunt, I found it boring. Nothing drove the story forward, to the point that I can’t identify a plot. “Passage of time” isn’t a plot, even when every 50 pages or so we’re reminded that the protagonist (Aurelia/Urako) misses a lover from her past. There is mild to moderate tension among certain characters, but even that is tepid most of the time. Other than that, a few things happen, but there’s no sense of movement. Character development was similar, in that I had a sense of who these people were, but there wasn’t much depth to most of them. I hate giving up on a book, but after about 200 pages I decided to scan the rest of this one.

However … in my entry on reading history, I recalled that one of my college history professors had his students read novels. What I didn’t say was that this was a professor of Japanese history. So as I set The Teahouse Fire aside, I had to ask myself if I would assign this book to a Japanese history class. More importantly, if I undertook a project to uncover novels that dealt with the Meiji Restoration, how many would I find that had been written in English, or translated?

A quick online search didn’t produce that many candidates. And although The Teahouse Fire didn’t work for me as a novel, I do think Avery did outstanding research. I especially like the way she showed her characters reacting to the tremendous political and cultural upheaval that came with the Meiji Restoration. Early in the book, Urako, the protagonist, attaches herself to a family whose business it is to teach the tea ceremony. (I took lessons in the tea ceremony, along with Japanese flower arranging, on the side during my sophomore year in college.) With the Meiji Restoration, this family business lost its purpose, only to generate new interest among the increasing numbers of Westerners allowed into the country. It’s highly unlikely this perspective would show up in a standard history text, so on that basis alone I would definitely assign The Teahouse Fire to a Japanese history class.

So the book works for me on one level, though probably not the way the author intended. As for animal issues, by time I started scanning, I had only encountered a few. There’s a spooked horse and some bunnies painted with vegetable dye to appear as if they’re calico, but nothing beyond that. So this book is SAFE for animal lovers.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbery

This novel was a sensation in Europe, making multiple bestseller lists and eliciting wild praise from reviewers in France, Germany, Italy, and elsewhere. “Elegance” tells the story of a 54-year-old Paris concierge/intellectual, a precocious 12-year-old girl, and the Japanese gentleman who instantly sees through both of them, changing their lives forever. So how did the book go over in this American household? I’m giving it an A-, which is high praise coming from me. I do recommend it, although I’m not going to suggest it to my book group to read for the December meeting because I can imagine all too easily the conversation we’d have. It would go something like this:

Jen: I got about halfway through it. (She has a baby, which is a great reason not to finish a book for book group.)

Steph: I thought it bogged down in spots. But it had a cat on Prozac, just like Leonard!

Jenny: And like Smokey!

20 minute digression as we discuss our vets and what they have and haven’t done right with our pets.

Dana: I thought it was funny in spots and beautiful in others, but I really didn’t like the ending.

Me: I agree. There were several different ways to end the book, and I thought Barbery could have done something more ambiguous or nuanced.

Jenny: The portrayal of Paris seemed realistic based on my experience.

20 minute digression as we discuss international travel and a couple of recent vacations.

Steph: Paloma’s parents were nightmares, but she was a bit annoying herself.

Jen: The sister was pretty awful, too. Most of the characters were portrayed pretty favorably, though. Maybe I’ll finish reading it.

45 minute discussion of the election and the new administration.

Bottom line: we’ll hit the highlights quickly and not discuss the book much. This happens about half the time. I’m recommending the next batch of books, from which we’ll select the December book, and I’m trying to select candidates that will keep us engaged. I’m not confident we’d stay on-topic with this one.

So, to sum up: excellent book with an ending that isn’t as nuanced as I’d like, slow in spots, funny in spots, insightful, definitely worth reading. As for animals, since that’s the purpose of this blog, this book is entirely SAFE for animal lovers. The concierge’s cat, Leo, is mentioned quite a bit. The 12-year-old’s family has two cats as well, Constitution and Parliament. A cocker spaniel named Neptune bounds through a few times, as does whippet named Athena. Plus, there is a young vet med student, Olympe, who is among the more endearing minor characters. It’s too bad she isn’t real, because Steph is looking for a new vet and after the cat-on-Prozac discussion, I’m sure she’d want to take Leonard to Olympe’s practice.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Year of Living Dangerously, by C.J. Koch

It seems that most often, people read a book before the movie comes out. In this case, I didn’t even know there was a book until after The Year of Living Dangerously came out as a movie back in the 1980s. But it was clear that some of the most touching and intriguing scenes — specifically, those involving Billy Kwan — would have more depth in the book. I loved the book then, and I loved it again recently when I reread it.

Billy Kwan is a half-Chinese Australian dwarf working as a TV cameraman in Indonesia during the last months of the Sukarno regime, in 1965 I believe. The narrator, a half-character of whom we learn very little beyond his profession (journalist) and last name (Cook), tells of the arrival of Guy Hamilton, a tall, handsome young Australian newsman and the ostensible main character, at least in the movie. Kwan immediately allies himself with Hamilton, passing along strangely-acquired and much-needed connections to insiders so that Hamilton can report stories the other journalists can only envy. Kwan also passes along his “girlfriend,” Jillie. (In the movie, Jillie is played by the very tall Sigourney Weaver; in the book, she is close to Kwan’s height.) As the political crisis becomes increasingly complex, Cook reveals more about Kwan and the strange poetry of his inner life, gleaned from files that Kwan keeps and Cook acquires.

Why do I love this book so? It’s moving, full of insight about love and poverty and conflict and loneliness. It’s also one of the most beautifully written books I’ve ever encountered. I hadn’t heard of Koch before, although he’s evidently written several books as both C. J. and Christopher J. Koch. (I read one of them, about another journalist, this time in Cambodia, but it lacked the depth and poignancy of Year of Living Dangerously.) In addition, Koch tells a riveting story, with excellent pacing, somehow managing to convey the complex political situation of mid-1960s Indonesia without getting bogged down in minutiae.

As for animals, there is only one, a bird named Beo that Billy Kwan keeps. I can’t tell what happens to Beo without spoiling a bit of the story, but he doesn’t get hurt and might end the book better than he begins it. So this book is SAFE for animal lovers. And it’s recommended for everyone.