The Art of Racing in the Rain

After spending the afternoon in Seattle, drinking coffee and sending emails, meandering through Pike Place Market, I stopped by Half Price Books in Tukwila on the way home. I don’t remember the last time I recreationally read, and especially finished, a novel (though many valiant attempts were made, but the starting proved to be much easier than the finishing), so I browsed the aisles aimlessly, just waiting for something to catch my eye.

En Entendant Godot crossed my path, a French version of the beloved Garfield, both securing a place in my hands, but I kept on. And then, from the corner of my eye, the top of a dog’s head peeked out. The Art of Racing in the Rain. By the title, I would never give it a second glance, but why the dog on the cover? My curiosity piqued, I opened the front flap.



“Enzo knows he is different from other dogs: a philosopher with a nearly human soul (and an obsession with opposable thumbs), he has educated himself by watching television extensively, and by listening very closely to the words of his master, Denny Swift, an up-and-coming race car driver.”

A novel told from the perspective of a dog. I needed nothing else. (Not to mention it was a mere $2.00 – a steal!)

The Art of Racing in the Rain is the most heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, dog-loving book that I have ever read. The tears began on page 4 and the flood gates were released by page 317. The novel begins with Enzo, our narrating canine, knowing that he is about to die – and wanting to. The following chapters are written in retrospect, following the lives of Denny and his family, but through Enzo’s eyes. 

Now, for those of you that are heartless dog-detesters, this novel is not for you. You simply wouldn’t understand. But for any and all dog-lovers, this is a must read. It will make you appreciate your canine companion so much more and will provide you with a warm, soul-cleansing cry.

The Art of Racing in the Rain. Two paws up.


Now excuse me while I mull over pictures of my Ellie and wallow in my melancholy.


Here

I may be unemployed, I may be living with my grandparents, I may have a single friend, but it doesn't matter. At least I am here. Finally, I am here.