"In a utilitarian age, of all other times, it is a matter of grave importance that fairy tales should be respected." - Charles Dickens

I just finished John Connelly’s The Book of Lost Things.

I haven’t read any of his other novels – they seem to be mostly thrillers from the look of things on Amazon – but judging from this book, I might be compelled to check out other stuff he’s written.

Maybe. Because it’s not that his writing is so gorgeous or amazing – it’s good, don’t get me wrong – but it’s his story that’s superb. It’s fantastic and creepy and funny and satirical and thoroughly engrossing. It has hints of AS Byatt’s Little Black Book of Stories, with elements of Harry Potter and more than a passing similarity to some Neil Gaiman - parts of Sandman but especially Coraline.

There are overtones of Kirstin Bakis’s incredibly strange (but good) Lives of the Monster Dogs and notes of Carolyn Parkhurst’s disturbing (but good, if weaker) Dogs of Babel. [However, no dogs were harmed in the writing of this post.]

But this palimpsest is neither plagiaristic nor derivative; Connelly makes his creatures and his plots his own. He reworks all the horrors and tragedies and humor into a beautiful and strange little book, complete with a hero with whom one grows increasingly sympathetic a little bit more each page, as he grows and matures, and a lovely and sweet if haunting ending.

I didn’t want it to end.

And here I am again, at loose ends for something to read.
I think I hear Bruno Bettelheim calling...

If you happen to read fairy tales, you will observe that one idea runs from one end of them to the other--the idea that peace and happiness can only exist on some condition. This idea, which is the core of ethics, is the core of the nursery-tales.
~G. K. Chesterton
All Things Considered, 1908

Cruella de Ville: What kind of sycophant are you? Frederick: Uh, what kind of sycophant would you like me to be?

Oh for fuck’s sake. I am NOT mean to the dog. He’s a perfectly nice dog, who is fed, and bathed, and walked regularly. He is given treats and played with and petted. I take him to the vet for regular checkups and anytime I think something’s up.

(Although you all, my sycophants, may tell me I should do otherwise.)

But he is NOT a child.

I made a mistake.
Not a nice one, or one I am proud of, but a mistake nonetheless.
I went into this with the best of intentions, both for my family and for Punto.
I am not one of those people who consider my pets my children. It’s fine if you are (more leeway than you give me, apparently) but I am not.

And it is NOT fine for a dog to poop on the floor after being let out before we go to bed, and without coming to get someone to let him out if he is feeling unwell. Which apparently he is not. And after having kept the exact same hours without poop incident for the previous four months just fine.

I now understand why some people crate their animals at night.
I also understand why sometimes people quit blogging.

*******

I am reading The Book of Lost Things, and it is deliciously creepy.
I am also reading The Long Exile, and the story is intriguing but I don’t much care for the author’s writing style.
Also dabbling in Rosamunde Pilcher’s cozy September except my stomach is not handling the food descriptions very well at the moment.

Otherwise we are all lying around under the ceiling fans, getting to the pool as much as we can, and torturing Punto the dog.

KIDDING.

He is as usual being fed and watered regularly and walked and petted and has his very own fan to lie in front of.
Maybe if he’s very lucky, I can find him a home with central air?
If I do, and decide to keep him, do you think Anonymous et al. will crucify me for THAT?