Hirviökoirien elämä

by Kirsten Bakis, Sauli Santikko (Translator)

"Hirviökoirien elämä on viime vuosien ainutlaatuisimpia ja epätavallisimpia teoksia."
USA Today

Kirsten Bakisin romaani on mielikuvituksen riemuvoitto, ihmeellinen ja unohtumaton kertomus. Sen maailmassa eletään vuotta 2008. Joukko preussilaiseen univormuun pukeutuneita ja puhuvia hirviökoiria saapuu New Yorkiin etsiäkseen uutta asuinpaikkaa. Hullun tiedemiehen kehittämiä otuksia piinaa kuitenkin niissä itsessään elävä vihollinen - painajaismaiseen loppuun saakka. Tarina on terävänäköinen allegoria tieteellisten kokeiden ulottuvuuksista.

Genres: Fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Horror, Animals, Speculative Fiction, Novels

351 pages, Hardcover

First published February 1, 1997

About the author

Kirsten Bakis (born 1967 in Switzerland) is an American novelist. Bakis was raised in Westchester County, New York, and graduated from New York University in 1990. She is a recipient of a Teaching/Writing Fellowship from the University of Iowa Writer's Workshop, a grant from the Michener/Copernicus Society of America.

She has taught at Hampshire College and was a writer-in-residence at Skidmore College, Saratoga Springs, New York in 2005. She is currently living in upstate New York.

Reviews

[Jess ❈Harbinger of Blood-Soaked Rainbows❈ · Rating 4 out of 5]

This may very well be the hardest review I've ever had to write. Maybe that's why I've put off writing it for so long. I read the book two months ago and find myself still thinking about it.

I decided to revisit this one because it reminded me so much of this historical gothic tale I just read and I wanted to compare it to my thoughts of this one.

I really liked this book, but I'm not quite sure why. The plot is confusing and disturbing, but at the same time magical and captivating. This book could actually be referenced as a literary conundrum--the emotions it conjures contradict each other, most of the characters are grotesque and awful but on the same token sympathetic, and the ending left me with such a horrible feeling. Melancholy, unease, disturbing imagery, but overall, it was just sad. I think I literally read the last sentence, closed my book, and just stared at the cover for 10 minutes or so, just to take in everything that I'd read.

I have no idea where Kirsten Bakis got the idea for this novel, and as she hasn't (to my knowledge) published anything else, I have nothing else to reference as I ponder over this unusual plot. The novel takes place mostly in New York City in a time unknown when "Monster Dogs"--gargantuan dogs that can walk upright, talk, dress, and otherwise act like humans--mysteriously immigrate to the city and take up residence in a hotel. The dogs are adorned in early 20th century Prussian dress and seem to be very well-mannered and old-fashioned and have become celebrities of sorts. We see the action through the eyes of Cleo, a young writer living in the city who becomes swept up in the dogs' mysterious and attractive world. The present action, written from Cleo's POV, is interspersed with journal entries from Ludwig, the German Shepherd historian of the Monster Dogs, and that of Augustus Rank, the German scientist, a la Dr. Frankenstein, who made the dogs, and is thus their God and Creator.

Like Cleo, I was completely swept up in the dogs' saga, even though the concept is completely absurd and disturbing. Some of the dogs are lovely characters, but a lot of them are snobbish, vulgar, rude, and unfriendly, and I'm quite convinced that had they been human, the reader would immediately hate them. However, that could not be farther from the case. I hurt for these dogs, wanted to ease their pain and loneliness, and dreaded their descent into madness. A little farther along in the novel, the dogs decide to build a mansion in Manhattan that will house most of them and will also serve as a public museum for the people of the city who have been so kind and welcoming to them. A party is thrown at the mansion upon its completion, and what ensues is on one level, maddening, repulsive, and unsettling, but at its core is truly sad. The dogs are all suffering from a mysterious disease in which they find themselves reverting back to regular house dogs. Most of them, instead of succumbing to the debilitating illness, decided to take manners in to their own hands and commit suicide, while the humans around them are forced to watch. Cleo is there throughout everything that happens and we are thrown into the action just as she is. We feel her frustration in trying so desperately to help her friends who simply do not want her help, and our hearts break with hers as she is forced to stand by and watch fate take its turn.

Cleo has no idea why she is so drawn to these dogs, who have become her true friends and comrades, and just like Cleo, I had no idea why I was so wrapped up in this story or cared at all about it. But oh how I did! In the weirdest way possible, I was so affected by it that it left me sad and depressed for nearly a week after I finished, but in a totally good way. I was so happy that she included the back story of the Monster Dogs' creator, Augustus, and though he is quite literally a madman, I ached for his broken heart, and cheered for him as he (quite morbidly) conquered those who had forced cruelty on him. He is the quintessential antihero, just like his Monster Dog counterpart, Klaus who is the dogs’ leader. I found the total lack of a protagonist refreshing, and enjoyed reading a novel that was not only well-written, but also well executed. Each character has both strengths and shortcomings, and is neither overly good or overly bad, but his or her own unique combination of the two.

I'm not quite sure what point Bakis was trying to make with her debut novel. There are some definite Hannibal Lecter-like parallels when she writes about Augustus Rank's young life, there are various allusions made to Frankenstein and The Island of Dr. Moreau, and I definitely got glimpses of Animal Farm within these pages. The theme is very political, as she has definitely penned a Doomsday character study about the problems that occur when men play God, but I think she has also written a beautiful commentary on human nature and what motivates us to feel, behave, and think the way that we do. Sometimes the way we feel defies all logic, and even the most reasonable of human beings can become trapped and stumped by their emotions. This book taught me, that all actions, even ones done with the best of intentions can have dramatic repercussions; and that friendships can come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and forms. Sometimes friendship can be the most irrational thing that can happen to us.

I'd be lying if I said this book is for everyone. The plot is very loose at times, and it definitely has its slower moments. I know that probably 50% of people who read it will find themselves lost or confused, and I think that's normal. But those of you who are looking for something out of the box, a little jarring, or feel like having your emotions manipulated, go ahead and pick this up. You will be so glad you did.

[Lauren G · Rating 2 out of 5]

I like the idea of this book, but I am very confused by several of the author's decisions in writing it. It seems as if the novel takes place in (almost) present day, in a world exactly like our own except that the Monster Dogs exist. And then for some inexplicable reason, the main character Cleo owns a laser pistol. The single idea of that laser pistol seems more absurd than the Monster Dogs themselves and that small detail just keeps on bothering me. As for the rest of the book, I find Cleo very uninteresting and most of the conversations incredibly wooden (so much so that I don't understand how the friendship with the dogs formed at all). The writing is also incredibly passive and caused me to skim a lot of the pages.

I am also bothered by how unrealistic people's reactions in the book are. Cleo is not disturbed by the massacre at Rankstadt and she barely bats an eye that it even happened. She isn't bothered by the idea of murder, massive weapon arsenals, or anything of that sort. It's one of the most confusing things about this book.

In fact, no one seems bothered by anything. Augustus Rank dismembers animals? His guardians don't care. Augustus performs weird, sadistic surgery on a cow? Guardians don't care, the cow's owner doesn't care, and a local surgeon doesn't just not care about the sadism, he thinks Augustus has a talent that must be encouraged!

All in all, I wanted to like this book. I like the idea. But the fact that no one acts or reacts in a manner that makes sense with humans has just left me perplexed.

[Hannah Greendale (Hello, Bookworm)]

What did I just read? 😯😂

Watch my BookTube deep dive on the weirdest Women's Prize nominees . 👀



"A dog has no rights. A dog has no way to communicate his grievances. I am a dog. God help me."

If you've ever wanted to read a story about biomechanically altered dogs who walk upright on hind legs, wear glasses, have human hands, and use speech synthesizing apparatuses to speak, then have I got good news for you! 😁

Lives of the Monster Dogs tells the story of some well-dressed monster dogs who land in New York via helicopter in 2008. They were previously enslaved in Canada, but now they're refugees. Fortunately, they're able to settle in New York where they build a castle in which to live. Unfortunately, they suffer an illness that prevents them from breeding, so they're poised to go extinct.

Through diaries, newspaper clippings, magazine articles, and by sometimes following a woman named Cleo who’s invited to a party inside the castle, we slowly learn about the century of cruel experimentation that led to this race of genetically and biomechanically altered canines created by an insane nineteenth-century Prussian surgeon. We're simultaneously given a glimpse of events which threaten to hasten the permanent end of the monster dogs.

Lives of the Monster Dogs is truly a strange tale, one made more bizarre by my decision to listen to the audiobook, which has poor audio quality. If you want to read a strange exploration of the refugee experience, give this one a go, but consider reading a physical copy (instead of listening to the audiobook).

[M.E. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quite magnificent. 150 dogs arrive in NYC with prosthetic hands, voice boxes and high intelligence. It's about them struggling with cultural difference, their history in 19th century Germany and the Canadian north, and the meaning of their existence. It's beautifully written, thoroughly touching, and embodies something fundamental for me about what makes New York so important.

[Jason Pettus · Rating 5 out of 5]

(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)

One of the sincerely biggest pleasures for me of being a book critic is to hear from the authors of the books I review, letting me know of the various ways they feel I got my analyses of their manuscripts right (and sometimes...er, not); so you can imagine my delighted surprise, then, when hearing out of the blue earlier this year from novelist Kirsten Bakis, thanking me for a long and detailed look I did back in the 1990s of her first and so far only book, the exquisite modern goth fever-dream tale Lives of the Monster Dogs, which turned out to be one of my favorite reads of that entire decade. But see, I'm embarrassed now of that write-up -- I did it long before opening CCLaP, back when I was a creative writer myself and only penned a handful of nonfiction pieces a year, and like many artists in their twenties in the 1990s I was going at the time through a bad David Foster Wallace, Insert Your Personal Life Too Much Into Your Critical Essays, And Make Sure To Include Lots Of Superfluous Postmodernist Footnotes phase, and while Bakis's lovely email inspired me to want to talk about her remarkable book again, I cringed every time I thought of dragging that old terrible '90s review I did back into public sunlight.

So I decided to do something a lot more sensible instead, which was simply read the novel again, for the fourth time total and the first time in years, and do a brand-new write-up based on how it struck me this time; and I have to say, I'm glad I did, because this almost perfect genre tale still holds up as the mindblowing industry changer it was greeted as when first coming out in 1997, and it was a real pleasure to get lost again in Bakis's deeply strange and proto-steampunk world. Because for those who don't know, the title is rather a literal one; the novel is in fact about a race of super-dogs that are created from the original work of a mad scientist from Victorian-Age Bavaria, only with his work never perfected until the early 2000s, long after his death. And so this makes the story a fussy Victorian fantastical tale and a modern urban fantasy at the same time, a look at what happens when this race of talking, intelligent, surgically enhanced oversized dogs actually move to New York and announce themselves to the world, while also being an epistolary look back at this mad scientist, one Augustus Rank, and all the steps in the late 1800s that led to him coming up with this idea in the first place.

Or, well, the book's actually a lot more than this as well, which is what got it so much attention in the first place, right in the same years that Donna Tartt's The Secret History was exploring the same general territory; written by an award-winning academic author during her years at the Iowa Writers Workshop (and indeed, this novel won several awards too, including the Stoker Award for Best First Novel, plus made the short list of that year's Orange Prize), Monster Dogs is also a look at the century Rank and his followers hid themselves away in a secret closed-off community in rural Canada, modeling themselves after the turn-of-the-century Prussian society they came from and then promptly cutting off contact with the outside world, which is why these dogs in the 2000s all speak in heavy High German accents and dress in tight-collared military uniforms and the like. And it's also about the terrible night that these successful test specimens, after years of growing into maturity, realize that it's time to overtake their former masters and violently slaughter all the humans in their hidden community, led by a Bible-quoting cur who claimed to be the reincarnated spirit of Rank himself. And it's also about the neo-classical opera that the dogs write in the 2000s to commemorate and explain this violent coup and the years of chaos that came afterwards, a 25-page libretto of which Bakis has faithfully recreated within the novel; and it's also about the elaborate Bavarian castle the dogs decide to build literally at the intersection of Houston and B on Manhattan's Lower East Side, paid for with the bundles of jewels that Rank and his followers slowly embezzled from Kaiser Wilhelm II a century previous, back when this entire project was under imperial supervision in the hopes of creating an army of unstoppable canine soldiers.

Whew, yeah, I know! And in another person's hands, such a ridiculously high level of fancifulness would fall apart very quickly; but that's the remarkable thing about Bakis, is that her natural talent plus years of honing this story makes it all tightly hold together no matter how ludicrous the details get, even when the last third dips into the legitimately disturbing (after the dogs come to realize that they are all slowly going insane, so decide to hold a month-long bacchanal in their Manhattan castle to celebrate their coming mass suicide), even when this last third turns boldly experimental (as we read the tone-poem rantings of one of these semi-insane dog's personal journal). It's really for all these reasons that the novel was treated as a mainstream, general-interest book when it first came out, despite it sounding at first like a story only a fanboy could love; it's because Bakis really is that good a storyteller, that she can manage to make this engaging to professors, suburban moms, and all kinds of other types who never in a million years thought they'd ever get caught up in the machinations of six-foot-tall monocle-sporting Great Danes who have had their front paws surgically replaced with prosthetic human hands.

These days, of course, post-Buffy and post-Lost and post-steampunk, the utter originality of this story doesn't have quite the same impact; but believe me when I say that when it first came out in the '90s, it rather literally blew off the tops of the heads of all my circle of friends and myself, and in fact I think it's fair to say that neither the urban fantasy nor steampunk genres would be quite as rich today without groundbreakers like this one that paved the way. Bakis intimated in her email to me that she might never write another novel again, so let me be the first to bemoan in public what a profound shame this would be; reading it again this month for the first time in half a decade, I was reminded all over again of what a nearly perfect novel it in fact is, and that the literary arts in general could really benefit from another tale with this level of sophistication and sheer beauty again. Here's hoping that Bakis will indeed pull up those bootstraps and crank out another modern classic again; but in the meanwhile, we still have this magnificent first volume, which I highly encourage all my fellow genre fans to devour soon if they never have before.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Monster Dogs in question walk upright, speak through electronic voice boxes, possess prosthetic hands and dress in the fashions of 19th century Prussia - naturally. Incredibly smart they are also fabulously wealthy and descend on New York in our near future after spending a century hiding out in the wilds of Northern Canada. They leave this town called Rankstadt after murdering their former masters, along with every man, women and child and burning the city to the ground - which we find out in an operatic libretto later in the book.

Yeah this is quirky to put it mildly. The dogs straight up murdered an entire city and are now feted in New York. Their creator Augustus Rank is Victor Frankenstein’s sociopathic veterinarian brother. It has this gothic feel with shades of Stoker and there is a pervasive sense of wistful melancholy throughout. I’m just not exactly sure what I was supposed to take away from this all.

[Mariel · Rating 3 out of 5]

The journalist Cleo was the least interesting part of Lives of the Monster Dogs (great title), for me. She goes on and on about "getting" them, how sad their plight is and yet how tragic it is that it is going to end. Okay, it's not the birth of rock and roll out of slaves forced to the usa, or classic Hollywood benefiting from geniuses forced out by the Nazis. They had dress up parties in a big mansion and she gets to come for the one last time party like the kids in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was sad that Willy Wonka wasn't going to make candy anymore. But he didn't need to, he'd done all he wanted to for himself. Public consumption was never the idea, anyway. These dogs had to survive in spite of their whole physical beings, with not even a grasping at straws sense of purpose (they have paws!). And they are dying. I felt bad for them as fellow animals, not that there was inherent beauty in their fucked up situations. What is the point of creating art and sharing it with anyone else? Do you HAVE to share it? Does someone need religion to carry on, or building society, starting a family? The dogs don't even have the luxury of pretending to work it all out. They were created by a mad scientist who wanted to use them as war dogs for his mad, mad schemes. Why would they care what the world thought of them and send their big message with the final party? All Ludwig wanted was what most anybody else struggling with those questions would want. The end result of impending death wasn't his tragedy, it was having to live with it at all.

Cleo and the dogs relationship never took on the same meaning for me as that with their creator. He was sick, yes, but he made them. They felt about him the complicated love of a parent (who fucked you over by bringing you about in the first place). Being a pet and being a child were ideas that never really took shape in Bakis' book. Cleo reads like a gushing musical review from another famous person who oh so badly wants their old favorite to validate them (I'm thinking of pretty much any celebrity who writes about Morrissey, for example). "But I understand!" I understand feeling like a freak out of place. It's not hard to, if you live in this world (or the fictionalized world of 'Monster Dogs'). Patting yourself on the back for it, though? Feel free to stroke my dog's head because he does have to live with a freak like me. It was a pain in the ass reading the parts of the stories from Cleo's perspective. Wish someone had told Bakis that while she was writing the book so she'd have gotten down to the real biz of writing her story. Sigh.

*Sidenote: As a person fixated on Russia and Canada, I did find that atmosphere of the journals interesting. Wish the dogs would take over for realz...

[Laurie (barksbooks) · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm a huge dog lover and found this story of walking, talking, intelligent dogs very interesting. There is a sad undertone to the whole story and an underlying thread of darkness , cruelty and the grotesque (the cow, the cow!). Very original and imaginative. The only small complaint I have, and it is because of the way the story is being told (in journal entries and by several different points of view) I was unable to connect to any one character or know any of them on an intimate level. I do wish it hadn't ended with so many questions left unanswered.

[Berengaria · Rating 3 out of 5]

⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

As someone who doesn't read or enjoy fantasy, this fascinating novel was a major exception. A strange story about dogs acting like humans, down to wearing clothing and affecting our speech, seemed to be a highly entertaining and well done comment on being "foreign", in the sense of oddness and attempting to fit into a society not created with you in mind.

Read this a long long while ago, but I still remember it fondly.

[Laura Morrigan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lives of the Monster Dogs is a book that truly explores the nature of what it is to be human, which may sound strange when I tell you that it is a story about dogs. When told a short version of the plot, people sometimes laugh, but I have to tell you that it is one of the most beautiful, melancholy books that I have ever read.

The book follows the life of character Cleo Pira, a young reporter who one night meets one of the 'monster dogs' and becomes involved in their strange lives. The Monster dogs are all large breeds of dogs, Great Danes, German Shepherds, etc. They have been genetically engineered to have the intelligence of humans, and have prosthetic hands. They were living until recently in a village in a remote region of Canada. After a revolt against their human masters, they come to modern New York City. Rich and strange, they quickly become celebrities and create their own rarefied world. Cleo comes to know and love two of these dogs especially, her friends Ludwig and Lydia.

Reading this story, I, too, found myself deeply loving these eccentric, melancholy creatures, not human, but not quite animal either, doomed by their intelligence to a sad, lonely existence. The sad, twisted history of their tortured creator is also deeply engrossing. This book still remains one of the most beautiful books I have ever read, and I would recommend it to everyone!

There is also a rumoured film in the works. I can only hope that it will still have the beauty and dignity of the book.

Review from my blog, http://rosesandvellum.blogspot.com/

[Kristal · Rating 4 out of 5]

During the 1800's, a scientist came up with an idea to create a league of super soldiers. He wanted them to be intelligent, strong and most of all, loyal. His answer - to create a monster dog. Able to walk upright, give prosthetic hands and voice boxes so they could speak, the monster dogs became a reality. But eventually the dogs wanted more out of life, so they began their exodus from the lab into New York City.

This is definitely a book that needs a hefty amount of creative thinking and imagination, but it is also a wonderful story of what it means to be a human, to be alive.

[Logophile · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book had been on my wish list for so long that it's probably a bigger disappointment to me than it would have been if I'd just picked it up without knowing anything about it other than its intriguing title.

The plot, a synopsis of which was what interested me originally in this book, involves a group of artificially enhanced, intelligent dogs of mysterious origins who have moved to the New York City of the near future. A graduate student, Cleo, is one of the few humans admitted into their social circle. There are so many interesting ideas that are raised and could have been explored, but instead we are told way too much about Cleo's none-too-interesting personal angst and are ultimately treated to metaphysical babble that sheds no light on—in fact, seems to have nothing to do with—the very interesting moral, philosophical, and even medical issues that these monstrous dogs (and they are monstrous in some ways) would have, or with the enigma of their grisly creator, Augustus Rank. The story of the dogs' origin is presented early on, and its titillatingly gruesome details are rather a red herring, since the dogs' own feelings about their creator is never really revealed.

Rarely has such a good premise, full of so many ideas ripe for exploration, been utilized so poorly. Even Cleo, the dogs' human spokesperson, is underdrawn. We learn far more about her taste in clothes than about the reason for her fascination with the dogs. Ultimately, while this book isn't monstrous, it is a dog. I wonder why it was short-listed for the Orange Prize.

[🐴 🍖]

10/10 on overcoming suspension of disbelief (of COURSE there's an army of dogs modified by a mad scientist w/ mechanical hands, voiceboxes, & super-brains who dress like it's 1860 & wanna build a replica of king ludwig's castle as a gift to NYC). and i'm never gonna not love to some extent a book feat diary excerpts, a fake vanity fair article, & an opera libretto as modes of storytelling. where this stumbles a bit is in the characterization of cleo, or lack thereof: the focus is obviously on the dogs here but our narrator is just an absolute tabula freakin rasa. also sorta goes *ffft* in the closing pages rather than *kaboom*, which i would diagnose as failure to fully draw out what's suggested to be happening to the dogs & its implications. it's v much got that it factor going for it tho; somebody dropship a copy to jeff mangum, feel like we could get a 3rd NMH album out of it.

[Danger · Rating 4 out of 5]

A strange and sad allegory (both in the fairytale and biblical sense) that explores, usually tacitly, the blurred lines that define humanity. The imagery in this is striking, and the backstory sections and first 2/3rds are engaging. The ending is weighed down by being overstuffed with philosophy, so even while the last section is building towards a cataclysmic conclusion, it almost moves glacially for the last 20 pages. STILL, that’s not to say it was bad, because it was still very good. Deep characterization makes the monster dogs feel like real entities, and as such, I was on board for the entirety of the story and invested in the eventual resolution. This was a book well worth your time.

[Jules · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've got mixed feelings about this book. Loved the idea, and it definitely had a somewhat dark and gothic feel to it, along the lines of Dracula, Frankenstein, Jekyll and Hyde. But I found it a little confusing, and struggled to decide whether I liked or disliked the characters. Not one I'd jump at recommending to everyone I meet. At the same time, I can imagine some readers loving it.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

A few months ago I read Carmen Dog by Carol Emshwiller, and obviously I was reminded of this -- since both are New York novels featuring intelligent talking canines -- when I picked up Bakis's book. In reality, the two are quite different creations: Emshwiller's is a feminist surrealist satire while Bakis, a significantly more disciplined writer, has produced a very moving book that, while not without its own satirical and surrealist moments, approaches its subject matter almost reverentially.

Back at the end of the 19th century and first part of the 20th, mitteleuropean sociopath Augustus Rank had a dream of creating, by use of prosthetics, dogs that could walk and talk. Fleeing eventually to Canada where he founded a remote settlement to further his project, he was still never to see the success he craved. Those who survived him, however, did manage to bring into being the monster dogs of the book's title -- dogs who, in our present (the book's near future), massacre their human creators and come to New York in hope of finding their place in human society . . . and also of rediscovering their own past. By happenstance, a young woman called Cleo becomes their chronicler. You might expect that those chronicles of hers would comprise the novel's text, but no: here we have Cleo's own informal reminiscences of her encounters and interactions with some of the canine leaders and intellectuals, plus various documents -- even including an opera libretto! -- depicting the dogs' past. Far too soon, though, the dogs realize they can have no future -- that their construction includes irreparable flaws -- and they prepare the way for their species to have a dignified exit.

To say this book is odd would be trite -- and also misleading, because one of the wonderful things about it is that it's almost not odd: before very long I found myself accepting its narrative, which avoids all temptations to lurch into Dr Moreau territory, as something quite naturalistic, as if there were nothing outrageous at all about a community of talking dogs having implausible adventures in NYC. This is a haunting, marginally disquieting book that I suspect I'll be remembering for a very long time to come.

[Elise · Rating 4 out of 5]

I definitely went outside of my comfort zone when I decided to read this book, and I'm glad I did. While I am not a science fiction fan, The Lives of the Monster Dogs was so much more than sci-fi. In it, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein meets Edgar Allan Poe's "Masque of the Red Death" as Bakis tackles some philosophical issues of what it means to be human in a way that is quite fresh and original, and her writing is startlingly beautiful at times. When Burkhardt, one of the monster dogs, says of human culture in the 21st century, "There's no smell of blood...And that's something I miss in your culture. No blood. Everything is so sanitized. There are hardly any butchers' shops. And yet slaughterhouses that supply your meat...they're really appalling, hellish. It's not natural at all. You don't have the chase or the fight or the smells that make everything worthwhile, and yet the most abominable suffering is created. And what do you do all day, you sit in offices and think. It's a very bad way to live" (163). That passage stood out to me and highlighted how Bakis created a world where dogs are dressed up in 19th century finery with human hands and voice boxes to hold a mirror up to society, to people who do feral and beastly things in the name of civility. In viewing this race of monster dogs, we are faced with viewing the monster in all of us. Mortality is pain, as protagonist monster dog, Ludwig, says: "Anyone who lives is consuming himself, rushing avidly toward the sword, the disease, the accident, toward the day on which life will end" (276). In those words is where I hear Poe, which was heartbreakingly beautiful in its nihilism, especially after considering the great effort it took Dr. Rank to create this race of monster dogs. Since I don't believe spoilers have any place in a book review, I will say no more. You will have to read this one yourself.

[Nancy · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked this up in a junk shop for $4, and it was a complete surprise for me in every way. I enjoyed much more than I would have guessed from the jacket blurb. It requires total, unwavering suspension of disbelief, but the story is fascinating. A race of genetically and mechanically altered dogs with hands and voice boxes and very high intelligence flee a bizarre, violent, hidden past and move to New York City. A young human female becomes involved in their lives and tells their story.

[Miriam]

Update: DNF around page 30.
I was honestly pretty into this, because it was giving me "What if Frankenstein's creature had been able to develop a relationship with Victor" vibes, but then it started getting into really graphic detail with descriptions of animal cruelty, and I Noped right out.
Bummer.

tHe DoGs HaVe HaNdS

[Breanna · Rating 4 out of 5]

I want to cry...maybe. I just feel sad. Not too deeply sad, but there's a slight heavy feeling in me. The monster dogs amazed me in their ability to break free of their human masters in such a bloody and vicious way, yet to go on wishing to never perform an act of harm against humans ever again. Why is that? Because they are dogs specifically?

The book is science fiction, but then it approaches a dash of fantasy near the end with the visions. Or is that still part of the science of the mystery of the dogs? A few questions I have are left unanswered at the end of the book, but I'm ok with that.

The monster dogs felt both impossible, but also very real. Not just because of the emotions they displayed, and felt so deeply, but also because of the strong emotions Cleo and other human beings felt in response to them. They were wanted, very much so, and you could feel it, and that's what made reading their story painful.

[maya · Rating 5 out of 5]

when people compare books to mary shelley’s work i normally do not believe them because the similarities usually stop at “this is a story about a scientist and their humanoid experiment” but lives of the monster dogs really is That Girl and the first where the comp has ever made sense to me

written in the 90s but set in 2010 (where little is different but we have laser guns) about a grad student who befriends a group of dogs that walk on two legs, wear 19th century aristocratic clothes, and are fitted with prosthetic hands and voice boxes.

if you like the experience of reading classic lit + the themes and experimental nature of the way shelley approached her work i think you’ll really like this - but i also get why people wouldn’t! i was so so charmed by it, particularly the interlude that is a 30 page transcript of an opera where i could actually hear and feel the melody of the lyrics. :-)

[Bronwyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

I complained on Facebook about being in a reading slump after a couple perfect books and a friend recommended this so I gave it a try. I’d never heard of it before and it sounds so bizarre a concept, but I really enjoyed this. The whole concept was fascinating and the dogs were all so interesting. Cleo was a little flat as a narrator, but that’s my only complaint. I’m glad this was recommended to me.

[Jack · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fantastic! This really scratches a specific ‘xenofiction focused on vivisection’ itch, and it helps that the ‘monster dogs’ themselves are so fascinatingly thought up, from their analog voice boxes to their prosthetic limbs and need to use a cane to walk upright.

[laurel [the suspected bibliophile]]

DNF at 20%

I might return to this when my brain isn't so fickle and can actually focus.

[Kirsten · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a curious and haunting novel. In the year 2010, the Monster Dogs, man-size dogs with prosthetic hands and voiceboxes, arrive in New York City. They are genteel and wealthy, and they are quickly welcomed into polite society, but their origins remain shrouded in mystery. One woman, a young journalism student, is given unique access to the Monster Dogs and begins to piece together their story, even as she is drawn deeper and deeper into their world.

As one of the Monster Dogs notes, "It is a terrible thing to be a dog and know it." Bakis does a masterful job of evoking the non-human qualities in the Dogs; they are sentient beings, but they still possess all the urges and characteristics of dogs, and Bakis doesn't let the reader forget this. The result is a story that is simultaneously eerie, grotesque, and gorgeous. There were certain flaws in the execution of the story, I thought, but it's a truly marvelous book and I loved it.

[Jennie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Leant to me by a student. Hmm.

So, this lady really has a way with words. And she has quite the imagination. But her ability to develop the relationships between her characters is sorely lacking. Bakis has fabulous descriptive skills, but she doesn't use any of them to describe the way the relationships between her characters grow. One chapter, the main character gets superficially introduced to people, and then there are a few pages glancing over how she had repeated meetings with these people, and then bam! Suddenly, she loves these people, or she's best friends with these people, and when you contrast this with the amount of detail spent of describing the historical background of the dogs, or the minutiae of certain rather unimportant experiences, it leave the book feeling rather soulless and empty. So, if you enjoy language (or monster dogs), you might enjoy this book, but other than that, it's not really worth it. (The good writing bumps the rating up a star.)

[Linda Branham · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is the intriguing story of an artificially created race of super-intelligent, slow-maturing dogs with prosthetic hands and voice boxes who descend upon a bemused New York City in the early 21st century. Created by the disciples and descendents of a disturbed and driven 19th century Prussian scientist, the dogs revolt against their human masters in 1999, leave their Canadian wilderness encampment and eventually arrive in the Big Apple. As a group, the dogs are both recluses and publicity hounds (pun intended), lovers of life yet driven by a sense of impending doom. They befriend and are befriended by a young female writer, and they change each others' lives.
I saw this description of the book... and it was so perfect... I pasted it here
I loved the idea of dogs as people. There was more of their history than I would have liked.. but still a thoroughly good read... one to stretch your immagination

[Drew · Rating 5 out of 5]

5+ out of 5.

I just loved everything about this, from conception to execution. There's a whole goddamn opera libretto in here -- literally. It's that kind of book. And while it's an exceptional slice of the weird, it's also a marvelous look at human relationships to dogs, and vice versa.

Just marvelous. I'm so glad it got reissued and that it found its way into my hands.

[Ted · Rating 2 out of 5]

An interesting conceit, an okay read, but overall pretty forgettable.

Ha! I've just noticed Jeffrey Keeten rates this at 5 stars!

Well, Jeffrey's a better reader than I am, so I'll nudge it up to 2 1/2. 8 )

[Brenna · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5⭐️

This book kept me at arms length the entire time. The relationships aren't explored deeply enough to make it believable why the main character is so devoted to the 'Monster Dogs'. The world also felt very flat, there's no perspective on how the outside world reacts to these humanoid dogs entering human society, which seems like that would have introduced great commentary on the relationship people have with animals.

The most interesting element to me was Rank's origins, but this received little page count. The town of Rankstadt also felt like a missed opportunity in storytelling.

This is more of a personal gripe than anything, but the main character carries a laser rather than a gun. The book includes no other "futuristic" gadgets.

Finally, the dogs themselves never displayed much dog-like behavior. I expected their nature to create tension or differences amongst the humans, but that was never explored. Overall, despite the unique premise, the story felt flat and uninteresting to me.