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.
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.
