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Last Days of the Dog-Men: Stories
"His people and dogs―those wonderful dogs!―come alive with honest, thrumming energy." ― The New York Times Book Review Winner of the Sue Kaufman Prize for First Fiction from the Academy of Arts and Letters and the Great Lakes Colleges Association New Writers Award. In each of these "weird and wonderful stories" ( Boston Globe ), Brad Watson writes about people and dogs: dogs as companions, as accomplices, and as unwitting victims of human passions; and people responding to dogs as missing parts of themselves. "Elegant and elegiac, beautifully pitched to the human ear, yet resoundingly felt in our animal hearts" ( New York Newsday ), Watson's vibrant prose captures the animal crannies of the human personality―yearning for freedom, mourning the loss of something wild, drawn to human connection but also to thoughtless abandon and savagery without judgment. Pinckney Benedict praises Watson's writing as "crisp as a morning in deer season, rife with spirited good humor and high intelligence," and Fred Chappell calls his stories "strong and true to the place they come from." This powerful debut collection marks Brad Watson's introduction into "a distinguished [Southern] literary heritage, from Faulkner to Larry Brown to Barry Hannah to Richard Ford" ( The State , Columbia, South Carolina).
144 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1996
29 people are currently reading
582 people want to read
About the author
Brad Watson
22 books173 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
Brad Watson taught creative writing at the University of Wyoming, Laramie. His first collection, Last Days of the Dog-Men, won the Sue Kauffman Award for First Fiction from the American Academy of Arts & Letters; his first novel, The Heaven of Mercury, was a finalist for the National Book Award, and his Aliens in the Prime of Their Lives was a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction.
Brad Watson taught creative writing at the University of Wyoming, Laramie. His first collection, Last Days of the Dog-Men, won the Sue Kauffman Award for First Fiction from the American Academy of Arts & Letters; his first novel, The Heaven of Mercury, was a finalist for the National Book Award, and his Aliens in the Prime of Their Lives was a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 60 reviews
August 25, 2020
”She found him, a speeding, blurred ball of black and white led by a wild and wide-open eye, and watched as he zipped past and approached the far fence. And then, in violation of what had seemed a perfect order, he suddenly leaped. He leaped amazingly high, and with great velocity. He leaped, as if launched by a giant invisible spring in the grass, or shot from a circus cannon, and sailed over the fence into the gathering darkness.”
I’ve seen my Scottish Terrier spot a rabbit in the yard and go leaping off the back deck as if she has nitroglycerin infused paws. She flies through the air an impossible distance with her front legs forward like Wonder Dog and her back feet flared behind her like a rudder guiding her to the ground. Her level of success at catching rabbits is abysmal, but it doesn’t deter her from chasing them in a circle around the yard until they dive through a hole in the fence. She cuts, anticipating the rabbit’s next move, and occasionally, a rabbit plays with her too long.
Brad Watson published this collection of stories in 1996 and went on to write just two novels and another collection of stories. He has been known as a lyrical writer, and certainly some of that lyricalness is on display in this collection. ”There is something fine about walking a fenceline through wet fields in a steady, misting rain when you’re all wrapped up against it. The world is reaching saturation, the air is uniformly cool and wet. It wraps around you like your heavy clothing and feels close and somehow invigorating. I don’t know. I guess it has the opposite effect on some people, but it strikes a chord in me. You slop through the muddy fields and get a little numb with it and something inside of you lets go a little bit. There’s nothing else like it. Walking in the cold and dry is fine, too, but it’s not the same thing. Walking in the rain loosens up the bad things inside.”
This collection is based around dogs, and certainly dogs play a role in each story, but to me the stories are about longing. Watson was a man somewhat trapped as well as sustained by the world of academia. He was still teaching at the University of Wyoming when he passed away at the age of 64 on July 8th, 2020. He is the second writer whom I have been prompted to finally read because he died. I don’t want to make a habit out of this with writers, but I hope my failure to pay attention to him when he was alive will be somewhat nullified by trying to bring him to readers’ attention now.
Because he was born in Meridian, Mississippi, he is labeled a Southern writer. I’m sure he was fine with that. One of the greatest American writers of all time, in my opinion, is William Faulkner, so to be categorized as a Southern writer is certainly something to live up to. I think of these stories as more rural, of people who could live anywhere. These are people who are still connected in some way with the outdoors. These are people who still want to use their hands. ”What gave him pleasure was a simple job, such as digging a hole. A worthwhile job, such as providing a grave for a homeless stray dog.” When I was working long hours, I hired people to mow my lawn, fix my plumbing, trim my trees, and paint whatever I needed painted. I grew up on a farm and know how to fix most things. On one of my first dates with my future wife, I had a fan belt break on my Camaro, and she watched in amazement as I pulled a frayed spare from my trunk and promptly replaced it in the muted lighting of a closed gas station. I didn’t realize until I quit the corporate life and had the time to fix things myself how much I missed doing that.
After wrapping a piece of wire around the internal workings of a flush handle on the toilet the other day, I proudly said to the wife...look, I saved us $65 with a penny worth of wire. Fortunately, she finds such heroics...sexy.
The characters in this series of stories are people who still understand the workings of the world, and all of them understand the companionship of dogs. There isn’t always a happy ending for the dogs and the people in these stories, but in every story there is a real sense of place. ”The doors all misfit their frames, and on gusty mornings I have awakened to the dry tick and skid of dead leaves rolling under the gap at the bottom of the front door and into the foyer, rolling through the rooms like little tumbleweeds, to collect in the kitchen, where then in ones and twos and little groups they skitter out the open door to the backyard and on out across the field. It is a pleasant way to wake up, really.” One might think those gaps under the doors need fixing, but then he’d miss waking up to the sounds of nature susurring through his house.
Now that I’ve sat here, pondering the writing of Brad Watson, I do believe it is time to go cut that dead limb out of the mulberry tree and part it up into firewood for the fireplace. Winter is coming soon, and that wood will provide a few hours of heat.
Rest in Peace Brad Watson.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten and an Instagram account https://www.instagram.com/jeffreykeeten/
I’ve seen my Scottish Terrier spot a rabbit in the yard and go leaping off the back deck as if she has nitroglycerin infused paws. She flies through the air an impossible distance with her front legs forward like Wonder Dog and her back feet flared behind her like a rudder guiding her to the ground. Her level of success at catching rabbits is abysmal, but it doesn’t deter her from chasing them in a circle around the yard until they dive through a hole in the fence. She cuts, anticipating the rabbit’s next move, and occasionally, a rabbit plays with her too long.
Brad Watson published this collection of stories in 1996 and went on to write just two novels and another collection of stories. He has been known as a lyrical writer, and certainly some of that lyricalness is on display in this collection. ”There is something fine about walking a fenceline through wet fields in a steady, misting rain when you’re all wrapped up against it. The world is reaching saturation, the air is uniformly cool and wet. It wraps around you like your heavy clothing and feels close and somehow invigorating. I don’t know. I guess it has the opposite effect on some people, but it strikes a chord in me. You slop through the muddy fields and get a little numb with it and something inside of you lets go a little bit. There’s nothing else like it. Walking in the cold and dry is fine, too, but it’s not the same thing. Walking in the rain loosens up the bad things inside.”
This collection is based around dogs, and certainly dogs play a role in each story, but to me the stories are about longing. Watson was a man somewhat trapped as well as sustained by the world of academia. He was still teaching at the University of Wyoming when he passed away at the age of 64 on July 8th, 2020. He is the second writer whom I have been prompted to finally read because he died. I don’t want to make a habit out of this with writers, but I hope my failure to pay attention to him when he was alive will be somewhat nullified by trying to bring him to readers’ attention now.
Because he was born in Meridian, Mississippi, he is labeled a Southern writer. I’m sure he was fine with that. One of the greatest American writers of all time, in my opinion, is William Faulkner, so to be categorized as a Southern writer is certainly something to live up to. I think of these stories as more rural, of people who could live anywhere. These are people who are still connected in some way with the outdoors. These are people who still want to use their hands. ”What gave him pleasure was a simple job, such as digging a hole. A worthwhile job, such as providing a grave for a homeless stray dog.” When I was working long hours, I hired people to mow my lawn, fix my plumbing, trim my trees, and paint whatever I needed painted. I grew up on a farm and know how to fix most things. On one of my first dates with my future wife, I had a fan belt break on my Camaro, and she watched in amazement as I pulled a frayed spare from my trunk and promptly replaced it in the muted lighting of a closed gas station. I didn’t realize until I quit the corporate life and had the time to fix things myself how much I missed doing that.
After wrapping a piece of wire around the internal workings of a flush handle on the toilet the other day, I proudly said to the wife...look, I saved us $65 with a penny worth of wire. Fortunately, she finds such heroics...sexy.
The characters in this series of stories are people who still understand the workings of the world, and all of them understand the companionship of dogs. There isn’t always a happy ending for the dogs and the people in these stories, but in every story there is a real sense of place. ”The doors all misfit their frames, and on gusty mornings I have awakened to the dry tick and skid of dead leaves rolling under the gap at the bottom of the front door and into the foyer, rolling through the rooms like little tumbleweeds, to collect in the kitchen, where then in ones and twos and little groups they skitter out the open door to the backyard and on out across the field. It is a pleasant way to wake up, really.” One might think those gaps under the doors need fixing, but then he’d miss waking up to the sounds of nature susurring through his house.
Now that I’ve sat here, pondering the writing of Brad Watson, I do believe it is time to go cut that dead limb out of the mulberry tree and part it up into firewood for the fireplace. Winter is coming soon, and that wood will provide a few hours of heat.
Rest in Peace Brad Watson.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten and an Instagram account https://www.instagram.com/jeffreykeeten/
March 16, 2025
This is Brad Watson's first book. Ten short stories, all featuring dogs in some manner. But don't expect typical Lassie, Rin Tin Tin, Benji, dog hero types. Far from it, most of these are southern mutts, dealing with southern people in various life situations. Real dogs, not anthropomorphic versions with human thoughts and reactions. Real people, some of them crazy, or mean, or just clueless. I enjoyed every story, which is rare in a collection.
Watson's last novel "Miss Jane" ended up on my favorites list, and these stories give you an early taste of his signature style. For Brad Watson fans, you won't be disappointed.
Watson's last novel "Miss Jane" ended up on my favorites list, and these stories give you an early taste of his signature style. For Brad Watson fans, you won't be disappointed.
August 27, 2020
This is a unique, fine little (slender, slim, thin) compilation of finely crafted literary fiction ever so loosely connected through the presence and role of canine companions.
Immensely sad, periodically gorgeous, at times brutal, relentless, raw, and ... for all of its four-legged focus, altogether human and flawed and broken.
I'm glad I read it. Obviously, some of the offerings were better than others (or at least they spoke more directly to me). For whatever reason, Seeing Eye resonated, and it was one of the shortest, a mere nibble, maybe a bagatelle, almost a tone poem.
I don't read/consume as much literary fiction that skews to creative writing as I used to. Sure, I always look at and incline to the Booker Prize winners and short list. The Pulitzer and National Book award winners, sure, more often than not... And maybe its getting older, maybe it was the dramatically expanded access to translated fiction we've witnessed in my lifetime. Maybe it was my rekindled interest in fantasy and sci-fi and cyberpunk and all things AI, I dunno.... But, for me, it was very much a change.
Decades ago, the DC gem of a literary bookstore, Chapters, was not far from my office, and ... in a pre-kid, pre-Amazon, pre-Kindle, pre-Goodreads era ... it was easy to walk in at lunchtime, peruse, chat with the staff and customers, and read stuff that you simply wouldn't see or notice on the central tables at (later) Borders or, these days, Barnes & Noble. Sure, there's Politics & Prose downtown (still, a wonderful institution, and I should make an effort to visit more often, but it is what it is), but, it's not convenient for me, and ever since the Northern Virginia satellite of Kramerbooks closed abruptly in the 1990's, well, other than the library, I rely on my wonderful, neighborhood independent bookstore, One More Page books, which, while gratifyingly eclectic, rarely steers me in the direction of this kind of fare. And that's fine, because with wide reading interests, my book stack always seems to be growing, rather than shrinking...
In any event, a nice artful diversion. I'm glad I found it.
Immensely sad, periodically gorgeous, at times brutal, relentless, raw, and ... for all of its four-legged focus, altogether human and flawed and broken.
I'm glad I read it. Obviously, some of the offerings were better than others (or at least they spoke more directly to me). For whatever reason, Seeing Eye resonated, and it was one of the shortest, a mere nibble, maybe a bagatelle, almost a tone poem.
I don't read/consume as much literary fiction that skews to creative writing as I used to. Sure, I always look at and incline to the Booker Prize winners and short list. The Pulitzer and National Book award winners, sure, more often than not... And maybe its getting older, maybe it was the dramatically expanded access to translated fiction we've witnessed in my lifetime. Maybe it was my rekindled interest in fantasy and sci-fi and cyberpunk and all things AI, I dunno.... But, for me, it was very much a change.
Decades ago, the DC gem of a literary bookstore, Chapters, was not far from my office, and ... in a pre-kid, pre-Amazon, pre-Kindle, pre-Goodreads era ... it was easy to walk in at lunchtime, peruse, chat with the staff and customers, and read stuff that you simply wouldn't see or notice on the central tables at (later) Borders or, these days, Barnes & Noble. Sure, there's Politics & Prose downtown (still, a wonderful institution, and I should make an effort to visit more often, but it is what it is), but, it's not convenient for me, and ever since the Northern Virginia satellite of Kramerbooks closed abruptly in the 1990's, well, other than the library, I rely on my wonderful, neighborhood independent bookstore, One More Page books, which, while gratifyingly eclectic, rarely steers me in the direction of this kind of fare. And that's fine, because with wide reading interests, my book stack always seems to be growing, rather than shrinking...
In any event, a nice artful diversion. I'm glad I found it.
August 19, 2020
I did a short review of this book when it was first published. I didn't know Brad. But I thought I knew taut, serious stories when I read them, and I said so. I figured Watson would go on to tell more wise, emotionally probing fiction. And he sure did. His voice was--and is--undeniable.
I've just read DOG-MEN for the third time, driven back to it by grief...gratitude and grief. Many of these stories are funny and dignified. The title story and "Agnes of Bob" still make me laugh out loud. But the fierce regret at things gone wrong also fuels moments of transcendence in this fine book. Brad Watson, like many gifted artists, rubbed regret down to its nubbins. Stories like "The Wake" and "Kindred Spirits" are all the more powerful for their deep, deep sadnesses and truths.
I've just read DOG-MEN for the third time, driven back to it by grief...gratitude and grief. Many of these stories are funny and dignified. The title story and "Agnes of Bob" still make me laugh out loud. But the fierce regret at things gone wrong also fuels moments of transcendence in this fine book. Brad Watson, like many gifted artists, rubbed regret down to its nubbins. Stories like "The Wake" and "Kindred Spirits" are all the more powerful for their deep, deep sadnesses and truths.
March 17, 2014
This is a collection of short stories with a theme of dogs. Very basic and very Southern American. I must admit I did approach this with a bit of apprehension, as I feared the worst for the doggies, but some of the stories were captivating and the writing was fluid.
You never hear of dogs named Bill.
My favourite story was called BILL. It's a simple tale of an elderly woman who lives with a "trembling poodle" advanced in years, as is Wilhelmina. She doesn't have much connection to anything or anyone and doesn't expect much, either. She and Bill the dog share a wordless bond, her still-living husband no more than a vegetable in a nursing home.
Howard had courted her in a horse-drawn wagon. An entire world of souls had disappeared in their time, and other nameless souls had filled their spaces. Some one of them had taken Howard's soul.
The other story which hit me was AGNES OF BOB. Agnes is a widow living with Bob, her departed husband's dog. Humor abounds, but so does a trace of wistfulness and the knowledge that time has its own schedule to keep for all of us. All in all, a good collection of short fiction with two standouts. ...light bends to greater forces, and so does fate...
Bless them canines.
Book Season = Summer (the South)
You never hear of dogs named Bill.
My favourite story was called BILL. It's a simple tale of an elderly woman who lives with a "trembling poodle" advanced in years, as is Wilhelmina. She doesn't have much connection to anything or anyone and doesn't expect much, either. She and Bill the dog share a wordless bond, her still-living husband no more than a vegetable in a nursing home.
Howard had courted her in a horse-drawn wagon. An entire world of souls had disappeared in their time, and other nameless souls had filled their spaces. Some one of them had taken Howard's soul.
The other story which hit me was AGNES OF BOB. Agnes is a widow living with Bob, her departed husband's dog. Humor abounds, but so does a trace of wistfulness and the knowledge that time has its own schedule to keep for all of us. All in all, a good collection of short fiction with two standouts. ...light bends to greater forces, and so does fate...
Bless them canines.
Book Season = Summer (the South)
December 27, 2023
“Humans are aware of very little, it seems to me, the artificial brainy side of life, the worries and bills and the mechanisms of jobs, the doltish psychologies we've placed over our lives like a stencil. A dog keeps his life simple and unadorned. He is who he is, and his only task is to assert this. If he desires the company of another dog, or if he wishes to mate, things can get a little complex. But the ways of settling such things are established and do not change. And when they are settled and he is home from his wandering he may have a flickering moment, a sort of Pickett's Charge across the synaptic field toward reflection. But the moment passes. And when it passes it leaves him with a vague disquietude, a clear nose that on a good night could smell the lingering presence of men on the moon, and the rest of the day ahead of him like a canyon.” — “Last Days of the Dog-men”
February 7, 2012
Eight great short stories about people, dogs, life, light, and darkness. Watson can write the hell out of a sentence while telling some of the most surprising stories you're likely to find. These are rough Southern pieces, steeped in an unflinching but fair view of humanity, recommended for serious readers who aren't looking for sentimental Disney-ish stories about people and the pets they love. A few of these qualify in my opinion as flat-out horror stories. So ... be warned. Marley and Me this is not.
Standouts in the collection for me are the title story, "Agnes of Bob," and "Kindred Spirits," but really they're all terrific. I'm always inspired by Watson's prose and gift for the unexpected.
Highly recommended for adventurous readers who don't mind some harsh realism.
Standouts in the collection for me are the title story, "Agnes of Bob," and "Kindred Spirits," but really they're all terrific. I'm always inspired by Watson's prose and gift for the unexpected.
Highly recommended for adventurous readers who don't mind some harsh realism.
May 17, 2024
I love Brad Watson
October 14, 2010
Not a bad collection, but I have 2 reasons it just didn't "hit" for me.
1.) I'm just not a fan of southern literature. Never have been. I just really don't get it at all. My failure - not the author's.
2.) Some of the stories felt a bit forced - at least the dog connection.
Others were quite good.
It is a pretty bleak collection if that influences your desire to read it at all one way or another.
1.) I'm just not a fan of southern literature. Never have been. I just really don't get it at all. My failure - not the author's.
2.) Some of the stories felt a bit forced - at least the dog connection.
Others were quite good.
It is a pretty bleak collection if that influences your desire to read it at all one way or another.
March 28, 2019
They're all good, but "Kindred Spirits" is a killer story.
March 2, 2022
Canine-themed Southern gothic short stories. Excellent.
Eight short stories in a beautiful little collection. They dwell on the connections between dogs and people, and between the people who live with dogs. Watson has a gift for inhabiting that mysterious world of the mind of the dog (and not in a sentimental manner). One of the shortest stories deals with a seeing-eye dog sitting at a crosswalk waiting for the traffic to stop so that it can lead its blind owner across the street. Watson writes from inside the mind of the dog, where its learned discipline (just focus on the sounds of cross-walk signal, the movement of the traffic) runs parallel to its keen sense of smell:
"There was a metallic whirring, like a big fat June bug stuck on its back, followed by the dull clunk of the switch in the traffic control box. Cars stopped. The lane opened up before them, and for a moment no one moved, as if the empty-eyed vehicles were not to be trusted, restrained only by some fragile miracle of faith. He felt the man carefully regrip the leather harness. He felt the activity of the world spool down into the tight and rifled tunnel of their path.
"Forward, Buck", said the man.
He leaned into the harness and moved them into the world."
The narrator in the titular story also describes wonderfully the behavior of one dog (Ike) when his better-behaved fellow hound (Otis) is allowed inside:
"But the thing I was going to tell at first is about Ike, about how when Otis gets let in and Ike doesn't, Ike starts barking outside the door, big woofing barks, loud complaints, thinking (Harold says), Why is he letting Otis in and not me? Let me IN. IN. And he continues his barking for some couple of minutes or so, and then, without your really being able to put your finger on just how it happens, the bark begins to change, not so much a complaint as a demand, I am IKE, let me IN, because what is lost you see is the memory of Otis having been let in first and that being the reason for the complaint. And from there he goes to his more common generic statement voiced simply because Ike is Ike and needs no reason for saying it, I am IKE, and then it changes in a more noticeable way, just IKE, as he losses contact with his ego, soon just Ike!, tapering off, and in a minute it's just a bark every now and then, just a normal call into the void the way dogs do, yelling HEY every now and then and seeing if anyone responds across the pasture, HEY, and then you hear Ike circle and drop himself onto the porch just outside the kitchen door. And this, Harold says, is a product of Ike's consciousness, that before he can even finish barking Ike has forgotten what he's barking about so he just lies down and goes to sleep."
Apart from their wonderfully doggy aspects, the stories deal with failed relationships, ageing, and the other complications of human life. The stories often have a easy-going, episodic feel, with multiple highlights rather than being honed to deliver an explosive finish. The two concluding stories, "The Wake" and "Kindred Sprits" have the strongest "gothic" aspect and are the weakest. But overall, a wonderful collection.
Brad Watson: Biographical details
Born in Mississippi in 1955; married his high school sweetheart and had a son together before twelfth grade; moved to Los Angeles and worked as a garbage truck driver while aspiring to become an actor. Returned to Mississippi after his older brother died in a car accident and, at the urging of his family, went back into education, attending Junior College, Mississippi State University (degree in English), and University of Alabama (MFA of Fine Arts in writing and American literature).
After working as a newspaper reporter and editor and at an advertising agency, he returned to the University of Alabama to teach creative writing; he also worked for the university's public relations department. While at Alabama he published Last Days of the Dog-Men (1996), which had taken him ten years to write and won him the Sue Kaufman Prize for First Fiction and The Great Lakes New Writers Award. In 1997, he moved to Harvard University and lived in Boston until 2002. He was a writer in residence at the University of West Florida, the University of Alabama, the University of Mississippi, and the University of California, Irvine. Beginning in 2005, he taught at the University of Wyoming, where he was a professor of creative writing and literature in the Department of Visual & Literary Arts. He died in 2020 of suspected heart failure. (Wikipedia, March 2022)
Eight short stories in a beautiful little collection. They dwell on the connections between dogs and people, and between the people who live with dogs. Watson has a gift for inhabiting that mysterious world of the mind of the dog (and not in a sentimental manner). One of the shortest stories deals with a seeing-eye dog sitting at a crosswalk waiting for the traffic to stop so that it can lead its blind owner across the street. Watson writes from inside the mind of the dog, where its learned discipline (just focus on the sounds of cross-walk signal, the movement of the traffic) runs parallel to its keen sense of smell:
"There was a metallic whirring, like a big fat June bug stuck on its back, followed by the dull clunk of the switch in the traffic control box. Cars stopped. The lane opened up before them, and for a moment no one moved, as if the empty-eyed vehicles were not to be trusted, restrained only by some fragile miracle of faith. He felt the man carefully regrip the leather harness. He felt the activity of the world spool down into the tight and rifled tunnel of their path.
"Forward, Buck", said the man.
He leaned into the harness and moved them into the world."
The narrator in the titular story also describes wonderfully the behavior of one dog (Ike) when his better-behaved fellow hound (Otis) is allowed inside:
"But the thing I was going to tell at first is about Ike, about how when Otis gets let in and Ike doesn't, Ike starts barking outside the door, big woofing barks, loud complaints, thinking (Harold says), Why is he letting Otis in and not me? Let me IN. IN. And he continues his barking for some couple of minutes or so, and then, without your really being able to put your finger on just how it happens, the bark begins to change, not so much a complaint as a demand, I am IKE, let me IN, because what is lost you see is the memory of Otis having been let in first and that being the reason for the complaint. And from there he goes to his more common generic statement voiced simply because Ike is Ike and needs no reason for saying it, I am IKE, and then it changes in a more noticeable way, just IKE, as he losses contact with his ego, soon just Ike!, tapering off, and in a minute it's just a bark every now and then, just a normal call into the void the way dogs do, yelling HEY every now and then and seeing if anyone responds across the pasture, HEY, and then you hear Ike circle and drop himself onto the porch just outside the kitchen door. And this, Harold says, is a product of Ike's consciousness, that before he can even finish barking Ike has forgotten what he's barking about so he just lies down and goes to sleep."
Apart from their wonderfully doggy aspects, the stories deal with failed relationships, ageing, and the other complications of human life. The stories often have a easy-going, episodic feel, with multiple highlights rather than being honed to deliver an explosive finish. The two concluding stories, "The Wake" and "Kindred Sprits" have the strongest "gothic" aspect and are the weakest. But overall, a wonderful collection.
Brad Watson: Biographical details
Born in Mississippi in 1955; married his high school sweetheart and had a son together before twelfth grade; moved to Los Angeles and worked as a garbage truck driver while aspiring to become an actor. Returned to Mississippi after his older brother died in a car accident and, at the urging of his family, went back into education, attending Junior College, Mississippi State University (degree in English), and University of Alabama (MFA of Fine Arts in writing and American literature).
After working as a newspaper reporter and editor and at an advertising agency, he returned to the University of Alabama to teach creative writing; he also worked for the university's public relations department. While at Alabama he published Last Days of the Dog-Men (1996), which had taken him ten years to write and won him the Sue Kaufman Prize for First Fiction and The Great Lakes New Writers Award. In 1997, he moved to Harvard University and lived in Boston until 2002. He was a writer in residence at the University of West Florida, the University of Alabama, the University of Mississippi, and the University of California, Irvine. Beginning in 2005, he taught at the University of Wyoming, where he was a professor of creative writing and literature in the Department of Visual & Literary Arts. He died in 2020 of suspected heart failure. (Wikipedia, March 2022)
April 30, 2023
I discovered this collection about a year back when I was a resident at the Fine Arts Works Center and a fellow-writer whose taste I trust recommended it. I didn't get to it until now and found the stories, their voice in particular, to be incredible.
I wanted to write to Brad, letting him know how much I enjoyed his stories, but upon looking for his email, I learned that, sadly, he's passed. I did read the touching homage that M. O. Walsh wrote for The Paris Review.
My favorite stories (if it is even possible to pick favorites in such a scintillating collection) are Agnes of Bob, The Wake, Kindred Spirits, the title story, and A Blessing, in that order. By which I mean these are stories I will be re-reading, and soon.
I wanted to write to Brad, letting him know how much I enjoyed his stories, but upon looking for his email, I learned that, sadly, he's passed. I did read the touching homage that M. O. Walsh wrote for The Paris Review.
My favorite stories (if it is even possible to pick favorites in such a scintillating collection) are Agnes of Bob, The Wake, Kindred Spirits, the title story, and A Blessing, in that order. By which I mean these are stories I will be re-reading, and soon.
December 24, 2020
I bought this book 25 years ago when it came out but somehow lost it and read just now. I liked it but found it a bit forced. He writes really well and tells a good story. As one of the reviewers wrote on the back cover, he tells stories you've never heard, which is not always a good thing. Dogs are in each of the 8 stories, sometimes central to the tale, sometimes not. What becomes clear in each is that man's best friend has learned quite a bit from us, maybe too much, and in Watson's stories the dog is man's dark shadow, a mirror of his psychosis. There is humor here, but it doesn't linger. Overall a bit too dark for me.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 27, 2017
Excellent prose, beautifully crafted sentences- "Bill" and "Agnes of Bob" were triumphs. I can't handle dogs being killed at the hands of humans, which speaks more to my own squimishness than the quality of the book. I know, I know, it's metaphor-- but it's incredibly difficult to read if you picked it up because you love dogs and regularly wrap your own dog up in a blanket to cuddle them and tell them they're the light of your life. Expect a beautifully written, but regularly torturous account of how humans don't deserve the souls of dogs, and you'll be ready for it. I wasn't just yet.
July 25, 2020
Watson, who tragically died too soon this month (July, 2020), belongs to the southern literary tradition of Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor. I enjoyed the wry humor balanced with longing and remorse in "Agnes of Bob"; Watson's more eccentric characters are hilarious but never slide into caricature. "A Blessing" and "Kindred Spirits" both crackled with sudden, claustrophobic menace and bursts of violence that left me shaken and reflective.
May 16, 2019
Good writing but the stories careen into contemptible characters and southern stereotypes. I am surprised there weren't any stories involving crawdads, catfish or cross-burning. But yes, there are dogs in the stories.
June 8, 2020
I can't believe somebody didn't make an Ed Harris movie out of Kindred Spirits. This is a great collection. My partner is reading it right now and keeps laughing out loud in ways I didn't, which is surprising, but also a really, really good sign.
March 12, 2022
Crazy good! This collection of stories shines brilliantly with awesome Southern humor, great characters, endless energy. Makes you want to run out and get a dog. Kindred Spirits exhibits such clever writing, it was my favorite.
August 1, 2022
Brad Watson is one of my favorites writers BUT this is his first book and it shows. It's some "dude bro lit" mixed with animal cruelty set in a gone by stereotypical south. Don't let this book out you off his later writings
November 15, 2025
Fun book of anthologies to have read as I got a dog; though largely based in the rural south. Some of the stories were are heartfelt and by cancer while others felt needlessly dark to me. But overall I was a fan
September 8, 2017
These eight stories may not be for true dog lovers
because in some stories, dogs are peripheral and,
in others, come to some harm. Other than that,
I have no bones to pick.
because in some stories, dogs are peripheral and,
in others, come to some harm. Other than that,
I have no bones to pick.
May 2, 2020
Wonderfully-realized book about the relations of people, dogs, and being human.
July 16, 2020
They are well written but not my favorite stories.
Read
July 23, 2020I could appreciate the writer’s skill but these stories just weren’t for me. Glad that I gave it a try.
July 30, 2020
Woah! Eight stories set in the south about folk and their dogs. Pretty chilling.
August 3, 2020
Powerfully, beautifully written. Weird and unsettling.
August 22, 2020
The first story was exquisite, the remainder was a mixed bag, but 4 of the 8 had breathtaking portions. The remaking 4 were still good. So sorry to not see future offerings from this author.
October 3, 2020
Wonderful writing.
March 10, 2025
good work
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