I recently finished reading a fantastic novel, "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle" by David Wroblewski.
Books about dogs and their humans have abounded at the top of the best seller lists for the past decade and have warmed the hearts of readers for centuries. My earliest memory of a heart wrenching dog story is of Disney’s “Old Yeller.” Another favorite is “Shaggy Muses, the Dogs Who Inspired Virginia Woolf, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Edith Wharton and Emily Bronte.” More recently “Marley and Me” by John Grogan is a delightful read. And Garth Stein’s “The Art of Racing in the Rain,” promises to be another.
But I think far and away, “The Story of Edgar Sawtelle” has them all beat on language, story, craft and depth. It is a work that will remain in the minds and hearts of readers everywhere for decades to come.
The novel’s forboding prologue tells of an American soldier who, while stationed in the Korean War, trades medicine to an herbalist for his dying grandson in exchange for a deadly poison in an antique cruet. It was 1952 and the soldier declines to reveal his reason for wanting the potion.
Edgar is the long-awaited child of Gar and Trudy Sawtelle who married in 1951. Trudy had brought to the marriage an uncanny ability to train and understand Gar’s dogs like none other while he focused on the heredity of their lines and the details of breeding. His goal was to create dogs like no other that was a cross of all the best dogs he could find and call them simply ‘Sawtelle dogs.’
Edgar is preceeded in birth by two miscarried siblings and a brother who is stillborn and tenderly buried by Gar at the base of a birch grove on his property. Edgar is born a mute but his condition never comes between him and either the animals nor the people with whom he communicates except for his nemesis, his Uncle Claude who is unwilling to learn to read or use sign language.
Edgar becomes an integral part of his family’s dog breeding business and one of his tasks early on is selecting names for the pups, a challenge that becomes another form of communication for him.
From the time he was conceived Almondine, one of the Sawtelle dogs, is Edgar’s mentor, his protector and his muse. The idyllic setting and peaceful routines are, however, shattered with the arrival of Gar’s brother, Claude. Claude is a ne’er do well, a dog fighter and the discontented sibling and the thorn is Gar’s side. But Gar’s sense of familial obligation makes room in his heart and on his farm for the prodigal brother.
For the emotionless imposer, a take on Hamlet’s Claudius, “It was never a question of whether Claude could learn to do something, just a question of whether it would be worthwhile and how long it would take.” So eventually he finds a way to get rid of Gar, marry his wife and take over the kennel.
“The Story of Edgar Sawtelle” seeks to reveal the answers to several mysteries besides who caused Gar’s death. Edgar obsesses over learning the true story of how his parents met. But when Trudy finally tells him had has lost interest. And on several occasions Trudy asks her son if he knows yet what is so unique about a Sawtelle dog which, until the end, he cannot answer.
After his murder Gar comes to his son as an apparition during a driving rain storm to warn him about Claude. And Ida Paine, the ancient proprietor of Popcorn Corners’ grocery, to whom God told a secret when she was born, gives Edgar a psychic vision about his uncle, the old man in Korea and the antique cruet. “’And if you go,” she whispered, “don’t you come back, not for nothing. Don’t let the wind change your mind.’”
In the end I was left with the sense that it would be the Sawtelle dogs, Gar Sawtelle’s vision, the mutts he bred for their awesome individual qualities they’d bring to the future, that would eventually inherit the earth.
Essay, Edgar’s alpha, was the one who understood the meaning of the devastating fire, who then led the other dogs “through fence after fence...They would follow or they would not, she had only made the possibility clear.”
That was the secret of the Sawtelle dogs, their ability to choose. And, in the west, Forte the ghostly forefather of them all, stood on the treeline beyond the field. Essay “looked behind her one last time...along the way they’d come...turned and made her choice and began to cross.”
Beyond the suspense, compassion and insight of the story itself is the skill with which David Wrobelwski spins it. His imagery, dialogues and interplay of characters and scenes is deft and delicious.
“The Story of Edgar Sawtelle” is the debut novel of a 48 year old software designer but I have a suspicion the literary world has, fortunately, not read the last of David Wroblewski.
Thoughts, conversations, insights and discoveries found in Nature and in books--from both human and canine points of view.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Monday Musings--Favorite Shoes
Since today is Monday, and not everyone is ready to jump right in to the work week on Mondays, I thought I would pose an exercise that might humor us, divert us from the news of the day, or perhaps give pause for reflection.
My question is: What is your favorite pair of shoes?
It is a fairly open ended question. They can be any pair you have owned but, as in my case, not necessarily have worn. They can be your ballet shoes when you were five years old, your Wellingtons, your saddle shoes (some might be dating ourselves here), your riding boots or whatever else you choose.
Then, tell us the story. If they are your favorite shoes, surely there is one.
Here is mine:
Grandma's Booties
I had two grandma's. Some people have none, some have half a dozen. I had two and my favorite one was Grandma Hilvers, my mother's mother. She lived in the same clapboard house on the first rise west of the Mississippi, where my mother grew up, in Dubuque Iowa.
Allow me to divert a minute. Two weeks ago, one of my brothers queried the rest of the family as to whether they remembered where that house was. Seems he recently met someone at work who hailed from Dubuque and the question arose. No one could come up with the answer despite spending at least a dozen summers there growing up. Two hours later the answer just popped into my head. Go figure. Hadn't written that address on an envelope in probably thirty years.
1460 Dodge Street, now cemented over by Highway 20 which runs east to Chicago and west through cities I recognized like Sioux City, Casper, Cody, Boise and stops at the Pacific Ocean in Yaquina Bay, Oregon...not far from Portland. I have a dear friend in Portland, have never been there, might follow Highway 20 in its entirety some day.
Anyway, the Hilvers family was basically impoverished. They didn't see it as a bad thing, but compared to my father's childhood with country clubs and fancy parties, the Hilvers' humble lifestyle with two entire families, grandparents, parents, and three kids, crammed into three bedrooms was substantially lower key. Every gift we received from Grandma and Grandpa Hilvers was endearingly hand-made including the booties I received when I was pregnant with my first daughter, Jennifer. They were so incredibly tiny I couldn't imagine they would ever fit a human, but they did.
And, as often happens with me, I lost track of them after our third daughter's first few months of life when I could no longer squeeze her tiny feet into the soft, cozy footware. I was sure I had packed them away but probably not as carefully as I should have, given their significance. My excuse was that I was a working mom, running my own flower business and raising three daughters, tending a husband, cooking, walking dogs, driving to soccer games and violin lessons, the whole nine yards.
When Jenny was a sophomore in college my husband and I decided expand our house, something we should have done years earlier but couldn't afford. To make a long story shorter many disasters befell us during this project including the wholesale deluge of our basement over our storage shelves in late September. I mean, we needed Noah's Ark just to navigate the waters that went straight from the grey, rain laden skies into our house with a force like Niagra Falls.
The clean-up process was a nightmare and, unfortunately, some of it was put off until after Christmas. The time frame for a florist from October through December 25 is hellacious.
So, in the calm of a dreary January Saturday I began to pull down the boxes of memories that still lay on the storage shelves. With trepidation I opened one, now slightly dusted with mold, to find layer upon layer of baby clothes, laundered, neatly folded and layered with tissue. Most of them were ruined, which broke my heart. But for some strange reason both Grandma Hilvers' baby booties and the christening gown she had hand sewn and embroidered, survived relatively unscathed.
You would have thought, for all the happy tears I shed, that I'd discovered a million dollars tucked away for a rainy day and then forgotten, when in fact it was a rainy day that had spared something that is worth a whole lot more.
If you have a pair of favorite shoes, tell us about them in the comment area of my blog.
I'd love to read about them!
My question is: What is your favorite pair of shoes?
It is a fairly open ended question. They can be any pair you have owned but, as in my case, not necessarily have worn. They can be your ballet shoes when you were five years old, your Wellingtons, your saddle shoes (some might be dating ourselves here), your riding boots or whatever else you choose.
Then, tell us the story. If they are your favorite shoes, surely there is one.
Here is mine:
Grandma's Booties
I had two grandma's. Some people have none, some have half a dozen. I had two and my favorite one was Grandma Hilvers, my mother's mother. She lived in the same clapboard house on the first rise west of the Mississippi, where my mother grew up, in Dubuque Iowa.
Allow me to divert a minute. Two weeks ago, one of my brothers queried the rest of the family as to whether they remembered where that house was. Seems he recently met someone at work who hailed from Dubuque and the question arose. No one could come up with the answer despite spending at least a dozen summers there growing up. Two hours later the answer just popped into my head. Go figure. Hadn't written that address on an envelope in probably thirty years.
1460 Dodge Street, now cemented over by Highway 20 which runs east to Chicago and west through cities I recognized like Sioux City, Casper, Cody, Boise and stops at the Pacific Ocean in Yaquina Bay, Oregon...not far from Portland. I have a dear friend in Portland, have never been there, might follow Highway 20 in its entirety some day.
Anyway, the Hilvers family was basically impoverished. They didn't see it as a bad thing, but compared to my father's childhood with country clubs and fancy parties, the Hilvers' humble lifestyle with two entire families, grandparents, parents, and three kids, crammed into three bedrooms was substantially lower key. Every gift we received from Grandma and Grandpa Hilvers was endearingly hand-made including the booties I received when I was pregnant with my first daughter, Jennifer. They were so incredibly tiny I couldn't imagine they would ever fit a human, but they did.
And, as often happens with me, I lost track of them after our third daughter's first few months of life when I could no longer squeeze her tiny feet into the soft, cozy footware. I was sure I had packed them away but probably not as carefully as I should have, given their significance. My excuse was that I was a working mom, running my own flower business and raising three daughters, tending a husband, cooking, walking dogs, driving to soccer games and violin lessons, the whole nine yards.
When Jenny was a sophomore in college my husband and I decided expand our house, something we should have done years earlier but couldn't afford. To make a long story shorter many disasters befell us during this project including the wholesale deluge of our basement over our storage shelves in late September. I mean, we needed Noah's Ark just to navigate the waters that went straight from the grey, rain laden skies into our house with a force like Niagra Falls.
The clean-up process was a nightmare and, unfortunately, some of it was put off until after Christmas. The time frame for a florist from October through December 25 is hellacious.
So, in the calm of a dreary January Saturday I began to pull down the boxes of memories that still lay on the storage shelves. With trepidation I opened one, now slightly dusted with mold, to find layer upon layer of baby clothes, laundered, neatly folded and layered with tissue. Most of them were ruined, which broke my heart. But for some strange reason both Grandma Hilvers' baby booties and the christening gown she had hand sewn and embroidered, survived relatively unscathed.
You would have thought, for all the happy tears I shed, that I'd discovered a million dollars tucked away for a rainy day and then forgotten, when in fact it was a rainy day that had spared something that is worth a whole lot more.
If you have a pair of favorite shoes, tell us about them in the comment area of my blog.
I'd love to read about them!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Yes, Virginia, There Is An Internet
I can't believe it's been almost two weeks since I posted here. Maybe the cold, grey days...maybe the overwhelming sense I get at the holidays. Deadlines and more deadlines. Oh, and puppies too.
Anyway, I read a post on author, Laura Benedict's blog that quotes Mark Tavani, a Random House editor, on the state of the industry which, no surprise, is as dark as the state of the rest of the economic world. He speaks to how publishing, and I must add every other business, has been adjusting to corporate takeovers. How, by becoming larger, many businesses are finding survival more difficult.
Which certainly is bad news, but it is also good news because with trauma comes change and that kind of change is rarely a bad thing.
A futurist came to our city a few weeks ago and this 72 year old man's main thrust was that the internet is going to impact our lives in ways we are unable to comprehend. And we thought we were just getting a fix on the internet...at least I thought that!
Then this morning the Detroit Free Press has an article on its front page, which has been nothing but bad news for the last eighteen months, which spoke to how retailing on the internet for the beginning of December is up 9%.
So for persons whose lives have been jolted or surely will be jolted by the economic events of the day the internet remains our best friend.
So getting back to Mr. Tavani, he too sees the internet as promising great things for the publishing industry. He writes that the most wonderful thing about books are the stories they convey and the medium will never change that.
It could be worse. We could have no friends at all.
Anyway, I read a post on author, Laura Benedict's blog that quotes Mark Tavani, a Random House editor, on the state of the industry which, no surprise, is as dark as the state of the rest of the economic world. He speaks to how publishing, and I must add every other business, has been adjusting to corporate takeovers. How, by becoming larger, many businesses are finding survival more difficult.
Which certainly is bad news, but it is also good news because with trauma comes change and that kind of change is rarely a bad thing.
A futurist came to our city a few weeks ago and this 72 year old man's main thrust was that the internet is going to impact our lives in ways we are unable to comprehend. And we thought we were just getting a fix on the internet...at least I thought that!
Then this morning the Detroit Free Press has an article on its front page, which has been nothing but bad news for the last eighteen months, which spoke to how retailing on the internet for the beginning of December is up 9%.
So for persons whose lives have been jolted or surely will be jolted by the economic events of the day the internet remains our best friend.
So getting back to Mr. Tavani, he too sees the internet as promising great things for the publishing industry. He writes that the most wonderful thing about books are the stories they convey and the medium will never change that.
It could be worse. We could have no friends at all.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
NaNoWriMo 2008 - I Did It!
With approximately thirteen hours to spare I have met the NaNoWriMo 2008 challenge and written 50,083 words of my second novel, a crime thriller based at a private golf club in the suburbs of Detroit.
This is a short synopsis of my novel: Christian Tyler, a famous Hollywood actor, is murdered at a Country Club where he is filming his first motion picture. A number of characters are instant suspects but the actual perpetrator is none of them. Brenda Taglioni, the locker room attendant of the Country Club and a first year student of a PI course, discovers his body in one of the showers. While she is concerned about the perpetrator of this dreadful event Brenda has her life wrapped around a threat more close to home...rampant cocaine use in her home town that she blames for her younger brother's overdose.
The story line of my novel is about 85% complete. In order to amass the 50,000 words for this national challenge I raced to the finish without stopping to smell the roses. I plan to finish the story then return to the beginning to nourish it so that its fragrance, texture and fruit can be enjoyed.
Might even have time to spend with this blog as well!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Buy Books this Holiday...From an Independant
Looking for a holiday gift idea that keeps on giving and has a reasonable price tag?
How about a book?
If you are looking for some great book suggestions link on to the blog, http://buymorebooks.blogspot.com/.
Many of the members of Backspace, an interactive website for writers, publishers and agents, are making their recommendations, including some of my own.
Then seriously consider supporting the independant book dealer. We are all hurting this season, but they are all running the risk of losing their businesses entirely and they are just folk like the rest of us.
Then, when you buy any books for the holidays, enter the titles you purchased under the comment section to help us reach our goal of 1 million books!
How about a book?
If you are looking for some great book suggestions link on to the blog, http://buymorebooks.blogspot.com/.
Many of the members of Backspace, an interactive website for writers, publishers and agents, are making their recommendations, including some of my own.
Then seriously consider supporting the independant book dealer. We are all hurting this season, but they are all running the risk of losing their businesses entirely and they are just folk like the rest of us.
Then, when you buy any books for the holidays, enter the titles you purchased under the comment section to help us reach our goal of 1 million books!
Saturday, November 15, 2008
NaNoWriMo 2008
I am now 25,000 words into my NaNoWriMo 2008 challenge. NaNoWriMo is a national writer's personal challenge to write 50,000 words of a new novel during the month of November.
It was good timing for me because my current WIP (work in progress) needs a break from me and I need a break from it!
So for a change of pace I decided to write a Janet Evanovich style murder mystery for fun. About a week into it I realized I am not a Janet Evanovice style writer...but did like the story so continued in my Jacqui Carney style which might be slightly more meditative. I found myself upping the ante of my protagonist, a locker room attendant at a fancy country club who discovers a murder in one of her showers. She is at the onset of pursuing a new career in police work as a private detective to earn a better living and to investigate the sudden increase in heroin use in her home town.
I expect the two endeavors will come together at the end and may actually result in resolving the murder as well. It's fun and now that I have stuck my neck out I am learning a lot about the plague of heroin in Detroit.
It was good timing for me because my current WIP (work in progress) needs a break from me and I need a break from it!
So for a change of pace I decided to write a Janet Evanovich style murder mystery for fun. About a week into it I realized I am not a Janet Evanovice style writer...but did like the story so continued in my Jacqui Carney style which might be slightly more meditative. I found myself upping the ante of my protagonist, a locker room attendant at a fancy country club who discovers a murder in one of her showers. She is at the onset of pursuing a new career in police work as a private detective to earn a better living and to investigate the sudden increase in heroin use in her home town.
I expect the two endeavors will come together at the end and may actually result in resolving the murder as well. It's fun and now that I have stuck my neck out I am learning a lot about the plague of heroin in Detroit.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Laura Kasischke
I read today in the Detroit Free Press that Michigan author Laura Kasischke was one of 50 artists awarded a prestigious USA Fellowship grant yesterday. This is the third year of the USA Fellows program which awards funds directly to working artists in a wide range of media from architecture to visual arts. Laura has published seven books of poetry, four novels and two young adult novels. Her novel, "The Life Before Her Eyes" was made into a film starring Uma Thurman that released last April.
I met Laura at the Bear River Writer's Conference in northern Michigan last Spring. She is an inspiring mentor, gracious individual and bewitching lyricist. One more feather in a cap with many.
Congrats Laura!
I met Laura at the Bear River Writer's Conference in northern Michigan last Spring. She is an inspiring mentor, gracious individual and bewitching lyricist. One more feather in a cap with many.
Congrats Laura!
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Andre Dubus III
I have really enjoyed discovering blogs by other people who enjoy reading and authors. There are about a million of 'em out there so this new found distractions should get me through what looks like a long, grueling Winter. Anyway, I am intrigued by one that encourages persons to write about the author they are currently reading...research facts about them and then present it in their own blog.
So, I am reading 'The Bluesman' by Andre Dubus III. I selected it for several reasons.
1. It is about music in the 60's and 70's which ties into the book I am writing.
2. It is by a highly regarded writer whose works are known for a skillful and sensitive use of language and subject matter.
3. Andre Dubus III also wrote 'House of Sand and Fog' a National Book Award finalist in 1999 and 2003 movie, which I have not read yet but surely will after finishing 'The Bluesman.' I LOVE this writer!
4. Andre Dubus III has a new work just released titled, 'Garden of Last Days,' which I will also read ASAP.
Looks like I am going to be into Andre for a while and loving every minute of it. His style reminds me somewhat of David Wroblewski whose debut novel, 'The Story of Edgar Sawtelle,' is also a great read.
Anyway, some facts from Random House's website and Wikipedia.
Andre Dubus III is the son of Andre Dubus (small wonders never cease!), an extremely talented man of words as well. He was born in 1959 in California. His other works include 'The Cage Keeper and Other Stories' (1959).
He attended Bradford College in Massachusetts where his father was a professor, University of Texas (for sociology) and University of Wisconsin-Madison. He abandoned his Ph.D. pursuit there to tend to a number of odd jobs before becoming a fiction writer. Those odd jobs find lots of places in his writing. He now lives in Newbury Massachusetts with his wife, a dancer, and their children. He also currently teaches at the University of Massachusetts, Lowell.
There is a great interview of Andre at the following link written after the release of 'House of Sand and Fog.' It was published online in Random House's review blog 'Bold Type' which was evidently discontinued in 2003.
http://www.randomhouse.com/boldtype/0300/dubus/interview.html
Excerpts quoting Mr. Dubus in that piece follow:
"As a matter of writing philosophy, if there is one, I try not to ever plot a story. I try to write it from the character's point of view and see where it goes."
"I try not to ever make a point with my writing, and if I do it kills the fiction. I try to just capture the texture, because I don't have the answers."
"I do believe that what's so exciting and terrifying about the writing process is that it really is an act of exploration and discovery. With all of us, not just writers, there is a sort of knowledge of the other. We have a lot more in common than we realize, and I think writing is really a sustained act of empathy."
"I try not to ever make a point with my writing, and if I do it kills the fiction. I try to just capture the texture, because I don't have the answers."
"There's that great line from Flannery O'Connor, where she said, 'Our beliefs are not what we see, but the light by which we see.'"
'Bluesman', written in 1993, is a story about 18 year old Leo Struther growing up in the '70's and his struggles with understanding and expressing his emerging virility and musical genius to his father, his girlfriend Allie or himself.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Which Is Mightier?
As for our wonderful new president the Times had at least two articles about how good this will be for our international relations. So many people are talking about how his election speaks to the success of democracy and that this truly is a land of opportunity. What a better way to influence other governments than pouring dollars, soldiers and weapons into their wars. Wouldn't it be nice if we could start to show by example than by force?
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Journey
Read a new poem the other day and it is short so I thought I'd post it here for anyone who needs encourgement in a new endeavor. It is called "The Journey" by a contemporary poet, Mary Oliver.
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life that you could save.
I LOVE this poem! It speaks to me especially now as I begin what I think I've wanted to do when I grow up.
But it can be applied to anything we do that is a little bit outside our traditional confines. And, to know that it is okay to let those little voices (some from our outside world and some from our mind) fade into the background for awhile is so reassuring.
Big day today... Huge day for our country I think. Both candidates should be inspirations for us, surely their houses have trembled in the past two years.
And, while 'it is already late enough' for our country to be electing either a 'senior citizen' or a black man, it is not too late.
GO VOTE!
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life that you could save.
I LOVE this poem! It speaks to me especially now as I begin what I think I've wanted to do when I grow up.
But it can be applied to anything we do that is a little bit outside our traditional confines. And, to know that it is okay to let those little voices (some from our outside world and some from our mind) fade into the background for awhile is so reassuring.
Big day today... Huge day for our country I think. Both candidates should be inspirations for us, surely their houses have trembled in the past two years.
And, while 'it is already late enough' for our country to be electing either a 'senior citizen' or a black man, it is not too late.
GO VOTE!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Age, Dogs and Pomagranates
Three good things happened yesterday.
1. The New York Times reported that 60 is the new 40 (in terms of age, that is). Since I will turn 60 in a little over three months I am happy to know I am still 39! Better yet, I might actually accomplish what I now know I want to do when I grow up.
2. Ratchet, the mongrel befriended by Army Spc. Gwen Beberg, 28, of Minneapolis, was picked up Sunday by an animal rescue group and will be re-united with his human companion back in the states. The story underlines the special role dogs play in preserving the mental health of soldiers in combat. It also points attention at the military policy against keeping pets.
According to the AP story, "Baghdad Pups has brought 56 dogs and six cats to the U.S. to be with their owners since February. The group says it is both rescuing animals who face abuse in Iraq, as well as helping soldiers who benefit from the bond developed with the animals."
You can learn more about Baghdad Pups at: http://www.baghdadpups.com.
And, if you care to comment on the military's policy towards keeping pets in combat zones you can learn more about it at: http://info@mars-savehaven.net.
3. Pomagranates are in season...healthy, delicious additives for salads, yoghurt and muffins!
1. The New York Times reported that 60 is the new 40 (in terms of age, that is). Since I will turn 60 in a little over three months I am happy to know I am still 39! Better yet, I might actually accomplish what I now know I want to do when I grow up.
2. Ratchet, the mongrel befriended by Army Spc. Gwen Beberg, 28, of Minneapolis, was picked up Sunday by an animal rescue group and will be re-united with his human companion back in the states. The story underlines the special role dogs play in preserving the mental health of soldiers in combat. It also points attention at the military policy against keeping pets.
According to the AP story, "Baghdad Pups has brought 56 dogs and six cats to the U.S. to be with their owners since February. The group says it is both rescuing animals who face abuse in Iraq, as well as helping soldiers who benefit from the bond developed with the animals."
You can learn more about Baghdad Pups at: http://www.baghdadpups.com.
And, if you care to comment on the military's policy towards keeping pets in combat zones you can learn more about it at: http://info@mars-savehaven.net.
3. Pomagranates are in season...healthy, delicious additives for salads, yoghurt and muffins!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
'The Story of Edgar Sawtelle'
At midnight last night I finished this marvelous book by David Wroblewski. This debut novel has received lots of attention, Oprah pick, NYT #1 bestseller, etc. , etc. and having completed it I can understand why. It is a story that dog lovers will have trouble putting down and that readers and writers will also thoroughly enjoy. Edgar is the mute son of Gar and Trudy Sawtelle, dog breeders from a remote area in Wisconsin. Edgar's muse and protector, a Sawtelle dog named Almondine, is as strong a character as any in the book. Her insights into human nature are endearing and astute.
Edgar begins his 'coming of age' at the discovery that his Uncle Claude was responsible for Gar's murder but Edgar is hard pressed to accuse the man without proof. As in Hamlet the murder is reinacted by Edgar with the aid of three Sawtelle pups under his tutelage. He gets the reaction he expected out of Claude but when Trudy ignores the revelation Edgar runs away from home taking his three pups but leaving Almondine, who Edgar thought sided with Trudy.
Edgar becomes a man both figuratively and emotionally during his months away from home but returns homesick and determined to avenge his father's death. The heart wrenching story has an action packed and disturbing finish that will stay with me forever.
I give it five stars.
Edgar begins his 'coming of age' at the discovery that his Uncle Claude was responsible for Gar's murder but Edgar is hard pressed to accuse the man without proof. As in Hamlet the murder is reinacted by Edgar with the aid of three Sawtelle pups under his tutelage. He gets the reaction he expected out of Claude but when Trudy ignores the revelation Edgar runs away from home taking his three pups but leaving Almondine, who Edgar thought sided with Trudy.
Edgar becomes a man both figuratively and emotionally during his months away from home but returns homesick and determined to avenge his father's death. The heart wrenching story has an action packed and disturbing finish that will stay with me forever.
I give it five stars.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Memory vs Nostalgia
Also gleaned from the 'Debutants Ball' blog: "We might call the use of the past, in conjunction with the present, memory; the rejection of the present for an imagined past, nostalgia."
There is a lot of truth in this and it rings particularly loudly with the protagonists in my novel-in-progress which deals with the 40th reunion of a Detroit rock band from the Sixties. So, while memory serves to remind us of both the mistakes and successes of our past and thereby enhance our present condition, nostalgia serves to pretend that life was always better in the 'good ole days' ...something we all know is not necessarily true and which can lead to emotional and intellectual paralysis.
There is a lot of truth in this and it rings particularly loudly with the protagonists in my novel-in-progress which deals with the 40th reunion of a Detroit rock band from the Sixties. So, while memory serves to remind us of both the mistakes and successes of our past and thereby enhance our present condition, nostalgia serves to pretend that life was always better in the 'good ole days' ...something we all know is not necessarily true and which can lead to emotional and intellectual paralysis.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Green Hydrangea
I know when my Annabelle hydrangea turn from their cloud white to an uplifting shade of spring green that Fall is just around the corner. A cruel trick on their part. My heart sinks with dread as I realize daylight will be scant, sunshine rare and temperatures crisp. I don't mind the cooler temperature but I thrive on sun. Come mid-December my body will crave its warmth, my mind will seek inspiration in other places. Music, good books and my writing will provide sustinance for my soul.
It is a good thing, Fall. I keep telling myself that my schedules relaxes, gardens renew and thoughts turn inward. Fall is the perfect time to fire up those creative embers and get things cooking. What's not to welcome! Thank goodness for the season's songs of color that celebrate Summer's last chance to inspire.
The fourth draft of my novel is almost complete. By the end of October I hope to let it rest so that when I pick it up again in December I will have a fresh perspective with which to give it a polished finish. Exciting really!
I just finished a post that British author Eliza Graham wrote in 'Debutante Ball' where she says the turning point in a novel is "when the progatonists realize they can never, ever return to being the person they were at the start of their story." Something in that rang true with me.
Of course, every day we are a different person and therefore can't return to who we were the day before. And once Summer has passed it is fruitless to mourn for it.
So, Fall, I am here for you as I know you are here for me. I'll pick those spring green hydrangea before they brown, vase them on my writing desk and we'll both make the best of it.
It is a good thing, Fall. I keep telling myself that my schedules relaxes, gardens renew and thoughts turn inward. Fall is the perfect time to fire up those creative embers and get things cooking. What's not to welcome! Thank goodness for the season's songs of color that celebrate Summer's last chance to inspire.
The fourth draft of my novel is almost complete. By the end of October I hope to let it rest so that when I pick it up again in December I will have a fresh perspective with which to give it a polished finish. Exciting really!
I just finished a post that British author Eliza Graham wrote in 'Debutante Ball' where she says the turning point in a novel is "when the progatonists realize they can never, ever return to being the person they were at the start of their story." Something in that rang true with me.
Of course, every day we are a different person and therefore can't return to who we were the day before. And once Summer has passed it is fruitless to mourn for it.
So, Fall, I am here for you as I know you are here for me. I'll pick those spring green hydrangea before they brown, vase them on my writing desk and we'll both make the best of it.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Yin and Yang
I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel on my novel. I am working on the fourth draft and while I have said this several times in the past six months, this time I mean it. It needs a few more revisions but I can finally get my arms around its generous girth.
I think I will plough through the next thirteen chapters to the end then give it a rest. November is NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth (NaNoWriMo) so I might use the time to attempt to write a short novel. An admirable goal and worthy experiment.
Maybe I'll write about the Yin and Yang of puppies.
Speaking of which, here is a photo of Yin and Yang puppies at six days old.
I wonder if this is how they were in Emily's womb. I watched these two for over ten minutes and while they both shuffled and squirmed they stayed together in a mutual hug apparently for warmth as well as comfort. Beautiful.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Puppy Update #1
Emily's third litter was born Tuesday, September 30 starting at 5:30 am. By 9:30 she had delivered seven pups and then at 11:30 after I had already sent out the announcement she delivered a handsome young boy. He is the smallest, naturally, and I started supplementing with goat's milk today. All the pups are larger than those in the last two litters, even my little straggler, quite vocal and active.
Emily is a very attentive mother and only today allowed Meora and Phoebe near the mud room off the kitchen where the whelping box is located.
We have six boys and two girls, quite a switch from the last two litters and four are already spoken for. I will wait for three or four weeks to determine which pup goes with which family as their personalities won't be evident until then.
Emily has a hearty appetite, eats four smaller meals a day as opposed to the usual two times a day. She is just this afternoon showing a desire to join the rest of her Carney 'pack' so usually parks herself halfway between the puppy room and our family room when the pups are sleeping.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Debate Impressions
Anyone else get the impression Sara came from a cookie cutter and has enough sugar coating to choke a goat?
There is no mistake, she is cut from the same mold as George Bush and John McCain despite her claims to the contrary... with a little less substance.
As many misgivings as I have had about Joe Biden I think he behaved himself and not only gave good, sound answers to Gwen's questions but poked some pretty solid holes in Sarah's answers and showed his family side.
What business did Sarah run as an executive? Less than two years as governor and six years as mayor of a city of less than 10,000.
She's a hockey mom with one kid going to war and one with special needs. Not enough background to run a country. She has opinions about public policy and the good fortune to be a 'maverick' just like the vice-presidential candidate who selected her.
I have just returned from Europe and it is painfully clear Sara has no clue how little the rest of the world thinks of our policies and our politics. They are anxious to see a new direction come out of the White House. They are taking this election much more seriously than the 'hockey mom' quips that Sarah likes to utter. Yes, we are living in a country that values its hometowns but we cannot deny we are also living in a global society that deserves validity.
How in God's name is she going to win the war, punish Wall Street and cut taxes all at the same time and from a folksy hockey mom's rubber glove ethic?
Gosh Darn it and God bless her, I just don't see it happening. And her 'Me vs Washington' claims just don't ring true.
There is no mistake, she is cut from the same mold as George Bush and John McCain despite her claims to the contrary... with a little less substance.
As many misgivings as I have had about Joe Biden I think he behaved himself and not only gave good, sound answers to Gwen's questions but poked some pretty solid holes in Sarah's answers and showed his family side.
What business did Sarah run as an executive? Less than two years as governor and six years as mayor of a city of less than 10,000.
She's a hockey mom with one kid going to war and one with special needs. Not enough background to run a country. She has opinions about public policy and the good fortune to be a 'maverick' just like the vice-presidential candidate who selected her.
I have just returned from Europe and it is painfully clear Sara has no clue how little the rest of the world thinks of our policies and our politics. They are anxious to see a new direction come out of the White House. They are taking this election much more seriously than the 'hockey mom' quips that Sarah likes to utter. Yes, we are living in a country that values its hometowns but we cannot deny we are also living in a global society that deserves validity.
How in God's name is she going to win the war, punish Wall Street and cut taxes all at the same time and from a folksy hockey mom's rubber glove ethic?
Gosh Darn it and God bless her, I just don't see it happening. And her 'Me vs Washington' claims just don't ring true.
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