Saturday, April 09, 2005
Life and dogs
Another disclaimer: I've worked with Daniel Pinkwater, developing a series to be written by other authors, and I commissioned an article from him for a magazine (which is mentioned in passing in the book under consideration), and I bought from him the keyboard on which I'm writing this.
I don't think any of that affects my opinion of Uncle Boris in the Yukon, though. One of the reasons I worked with Daniel was because I admired his work. The flap copy of this book calls him one of the most influential of writers for children, and I suspect he's had a significant influence on writers for adults, as well. He's certainly influenced me.
I won't try to define his humor. If you have listened to All Things Considered long enough, you've heard his commentary. If not, you may have run into Blue Moose or The Wuggie Norple Story or The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death or Young Adult Novel, and if you haven't seen those you should run out right now and rectify the lack.
Uncle Boris is not at the sublime level of those, but it's pretty good. It is a memoir, starting before the author's own birth, of a family's relationships with dogs (and a cat or two). I have heard some of these stories before, probably in one of Daniel's collections of his ATC commentaries, but he has told them anew here, and the context gives them new resonance. Daniel and Jill (his wife, and the illustrator of this slim, pocket-sized hardcover) are (among many other talents) dog trainers, and this book adheres to the premise that the training goes both ways. Daniel, and later Daniel and Jill, learn as much from their dogs as the dogs learn from them. Possibly more, since the Pinkwaters are smarter than most of the dogs. (The last dog profiled, Lulu, is scary-smart.)
But that isn't really the main feeling one takes away from the book. In part, you come away with some of that same feeling I get from Brother Cadfael, of having spent some time in the company of a particularly interesting and articulate (and funny -- never forget that) guy. You have gotten to know him, perhaps not in a Dostoevskian depth, but enough to know you like him. You've gotten to know some of his friends and family (and oy, what a family! Uncle Boris and his Yiddish-speaking sled dog are only the introduction to this family), including a variety of animals. And you've seen some of the ties that bind the family together, even when it's just the two humans and their cats, dogs, and horses.
And, of course, it's just tremendous fun.
dmh
I don't think any of that affects my opinion of Uncle Boris in the Yukon, though. One of the reasons I worked with Daniel was because I admired his work. The flap copy of this book calls him one of the most influential of writers for children, and I suspect he's had a significant influence on writers for adults, as well. He's certainly influenced me.
I won't try to define his humor. If you have listened to All Things Considered long enough, you've heard his commentary. If not, you may have run into Blue Moose or The Wuggie Norple Story or The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death or Young Adult Novel, and if you haven't seen those you should run out right now and rectify the lack.
Uncle Boris is not at the sublime level of those, but it's pretty good. It is a memoir, starting before the author's own birth, of a family's relationships with dogs (and a cat or two). I have heard some of these stories before, probably in one of Daniel's collections of his ATC commentaries, but he has told them anew here, and the context gives them new resonance. Daniel and Jill (his wife, and the illustrator of this slim, pocket-sized hardcover) are (among many other talents) dog trainers, and this book adheres to the premise that the training goes both ways. Daniel, and later Daniel and Jill, learn as much from their dogs as the dogs learn from them. Possibly more, since the Pinkwaters are smarter than most of the dogs. (The last dog profiled, Lulu, is scary-smart.)
But that isn't really the main feeling one takes away from the book. In part, you come away with some of that same feeling I get from Brother Cadfael, of having spent some time in the company of a particularly interesting and articulate (and funny -- never forget that) guy. You have gotten to know him, perhaps not in a Dostoevskian depth, but enough to know you like him. You've gotten to know some of his friends and family (and oy, what a family! Uncle Boris and his Yiddish-speaking sled dog are only the introduction to this family), including a variety of animals. And you've seen some of the ties that bind the family together, even when it's just the two humans and their cats, dogs, and horses.
And, of course, it's just tremendous fun.
dmh
