‘Oh right’ said Bazza. He clicked his tongue loudly. ‘Dog! Come!’
Oh, fuck off Barnabas. It isn’t suppertime yet. Go and spread some peace and love, you hippy dinosaur.
This was a most wholesome reading experience. Barking great! Why? Because it is a multi-layered, multi-faceted, jam packed little thing that manages to flow in -what it is called- an effortless way. Oh, it also lulls you in the false security of an easy read. Don’t get me wrong. It is an easy read indeed, but with so much complexity and intellect ‘hidden’ in it that turns it into a weighty book, if you are a thinker loving other thinkers. If, on the other hand, you are a reader that the sound of ‘ontological questions’ and ‘epistemological issues’ makes you running for the mountains, fear not: Mike Robbins weaved his story so intelligently to cater for you as well. Let me dwell a bit more on that ‘easy’ notion. In this occasion it means this smooth, fluent and concise mode that journalists writing fiction favour, like Hemingway, Steinbeck, de Balzac etc. Or like Mike Robins.
Bazza and Caz are a very likeable couple. He is a mild mannered divorced academic, she is a rather foul mouthed and kind and sexy post grad and together they live in a bliss of enjoying each other’s company. Then they get a dog from the rescue centre. They are attentive and caring towards him. But the Dog doesn’t take his canine duties very seriously aka the man’s (and woman’s ) best friend thing. On the contrary, he comes across as indifferent and contemptuous towards humans, not aggressive, not warm and needy, not responsive to their calls, not polite in front of visitors and he particularly dislikes Bazza. All is good and pleasant and the characters provide lightness and humour and wit to juxtapose with intellectual restlessness and philosophical investigation. However, the dog, between the intermittent bark and grunt and the caustic thoughts about Bazza, is deeply lost in memories of family, bond, of ceaseless love. We are talking reincarnation. And I assume that the author chose the reincarnation of dog for this traumatised soul because the Dog in his pre-canine existence lived a life of servitude in the name of love.
The characters play out ontological questions with arguments and counter-arguments of whether the soul transcends death, in front of the reincarnated witness -oh the irony!- who is obviously incapable to turn and tell Richard a strict rational materialist, that he’s got it wrong. No need to argue about it guys, I’m here, aren’t I? Add to that the ethics of self sacrifice that brings to mind ethical thinkers as Emmanuel Levinas and Jacques Derrida and you’ve got much to think about. And when you finish with the thinking you can start feeling. The Dog’s own story is unapologetically emotive, humane and direct. Actually it’s a brilliant example of the difference between the sentimental and the emotional. The sentimental may cause you excessive puking. There’s not a trace of it in this book. The emotional, the honest and dynamic emotional takes your breath away and puts you back in touch with your humanity. At the last pages I have to confess I was pretty much floored by the writing, I was an emotional wreck and a half.
Reader. Don’t miss this hugely thoughtful and meticulously constructed novella, if I may say.