The Art of Racing in the Rain 15 Year Old
The Art of Racing in the Rain past Garth Stein
Four-legged philosopherGarth Stein's new novel delivers dog's-center view of a master who messes up his spousal relationship
Enzo, the narrator of Garth Stein's new novel, is a dog. Non a fussy little barky dog, but a thoughtful decent-size dog — part Labrador, part anyone'due south approximate — with a gravitas that suits his advanced historic period. Enzo knows what sets him apart from other canines. "Sure, I'm stuffed into a canis familiaris'due south body," he observes, ''but that'southward only the shell. It's what'southward within that'southward important. The soul. And my soul is very human."
Contradictory as it sounds, information technology is Enzo's humanity that carries The Art of Racing in the Pelting. His musings on the limits of canine expression are so compelling that the early chapters whiz by. If only he had opposable thumbs! If only he had language to supplement his barks and gestures! If just he could dice and return as a man, similar the Mongolian dogs he learned about on the National Geographic Channel!
To exist articulate, Enzo exhibits none of the self-loathing of Kafka's pitiful-sack Gregor Samsa, who awakens one forenoon to find he'south become a cockroach. Sure, Enzo would like to be man in his side by side life, just he's not malaise-ridden. He's been happy equally a dog — no major regrets. Nor is Stein co-opting the dense and difficult world of Faulkner, who reinvented point of view in The Audio and the Fury. Enzo is a clear and reliable narrator, as warm and trustworthy every bit i might expect a good dog to be.
No, Enzo isn't the problem in Stein'south novel. People are the problem. And as the plot thickens around Denny Swift, Enzo'south possessor, the narrative arc starts to sag.
An upwardly-and-coming race car commuter, Denny spends a fair corporeality of fourth dimension away from his Seattle habitation, driving in trials to earn spots in national races. From the day Denny picked Enzo from a litter of pups at a Washington subcontract, Enzo has adored him.
When Denny falls in love with Eve, Enzo adjusts. When Eve and Denny have Zoë, Enzo adjusts once more, growing to dear the 2 human additions to his family. And when Denny stands to lose this family unit, Enzo does his best to protect and condolement all 3, even though he'southward an erstwhile dog whose body is powering downwards.
Enzo is well-schooled in Denny's on- and off-rails philosophy.
"Racing is doing," Denny explains. "It is being part of a moment and existence aware of nothing else merely that moment. Reflection must come up at a later time."
This worldview works well at the track but not then well in a family, specially one with an ailing wife and young girl.
There's no question that Denny loves his wife and kid, but when Eve refuses to go to a md for her blinding headaches, he doesn't press her. When Denny's wealthy in-laws inquire if Eve and Zoë can move in with them for the duration of Eve's disease, Denny consents. And when Denny doesn't run into trouble in the form of an doting 15-year-one-time daughter, something happens that could change the course of his life.
The cynic in me says that Denny's story could exist narrated but by his adoring domestic dog because Enzo is the but brute able to recount Denny's actions — or inactions — with and so much pity. What'due south more, Denny's deer-in-the-headlights inertia regarding Eve's illness just doesn't square with his aggressiveness at the racetrack.
The mechanical failure of the book is caused past one of two things: a predictable plot that erodes character, or a poorly conceived character ill-equipped to bulldoze a plot.
Denny'south passivity in the first half of the novel sets upwardly a chain of events from which Denny spends the 2d one-half of the novel extricating himself, all the while affirming his love for his family. But the reader isn't fooled. When things with the in-laws go ugly, Denny is surprised but the reader isn't. Nosotros saw that railroad train coming. There's no question that the precocious teenage daughter will reappear; it's just a thing of when. And past the time policemen and lawyers arrive in the later chapters, readers may feel that they've stumbled into another novel altogether.
The Art of Racing in the Pelting has enjoyed weeks on the New York Times best-seller listing. It's the just book that my local Starbucks, a mini-stand in an indoor mall, is selling out front, next to the gift cards and ceramic cups. In other words, plenty of people are buying this book and, presumably, enjoying it.
Certainly, it is a decent read, requiring but as much concentration every bit one is able to muster in the summer months. The ending, though predictable, is charming.
Nonetheless the narrative inventiveness, introduced so beautifully in the early pages, led me to expect a more sophisticated story, peopled with characters as compelling as the dog who faithfully records their actions. Merely it was non to be.
To exist sure, Stein is an able driver; he keeps his characters on rail and steers the plot to a satisfying decision. But in this novel, anyway, he lacks that magic fusion of intuition, skill and grace needed to bulldoze a truly bully story home.
maggie.galehouse@chron.com
oliveirasuctioughat.blogspot.com
Source: https://www.chron.com/life/books/article/The-Art-of-Racing-in-the-Rain-by-Garth-Stein-1772661.php
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