Customer Reviews

The Dogs of Babel: A Novel

5 star:		(150)
4 star:		(94)
3 star:		(51)
2 star:		(54)
1 star:		(43)

 

 

I finished this book three days ago, and I still have strong feelings floating around because of it. The Dogs of Babel is an emotionally painful reading experience, and for me, one of the most intensely sad books I've ever encountered (but that's a good thing -- genuine emotion is hard to come by in this post-modern meta-fiction riddled contemporary literary period).

You've probably read how this book is about a man, Paul Iverson, who is trying to teach his dog to tell him why his wife died in a fall ... but it's not a gimmicky book. It's about grieving, self-examination, love, and how complicated people and relationships can be. People complain that there are plot events that are unrealistic or far-fetched, but I'd contend that they are missing the point: this is the most emotionally honest book I've come across recently. As the reader learns more about Paul and his wife, he becomes more invested in Paul's plight, so much so that the pain is real and raw. If you want to feel for a character in a novel, then this book is certainly for you.

The caveat, though, is that The Dogs of Babel is an intense experience, which may not be for you depending on your current circumstances. If I had recently experienced a loss, I doubt I could've gotten through it at all (at least without a breakdown). I'd also be careful if you're feeling emotionally fragile since I can't get it out of my head three days later with no end in sight for me (when was the last time a book hung around with you for some time after you finished it?).

5 stars
"The Dogs of Babel" is about Paul Iverson, a linguist at a local university who meets and quickly marries a young artist named Lexy Ransome. She is everything to him- she brings light and color to his dull, academic life. The two have a seemingly happy and passionate marriage until one day Lexy mysteriously falls from a tree and is mortally injured. The only witness to the incident is the couple's dog, Lorelai and Paul, in his grief and desperation, decides he is going to make Lorelai communicate in order to reveal the secrets of his wife's last day. He abandons his friends, family, and career in order to work with Lorelai, and in doing so finds out much more (both about himself, Lexy, and the nature of desperate people) than he bargained for.

When I read the premise for "Dogs of Babel" I had no idea how Carolyn Parkhurst was going to make it come together. But she did, and did so beautifully and tragically. Although the concept sounds bizarre, what it really does is provide a meaningful way for Paul to retell all the events and emotions of his marriage to Lexy.

This is a wonderfully written book. The narrative weaves in and out of the past and present with no effort at all. Normally, I can't take stories of grief and loss too often because they make me fear for the fate of my own loves ones. But this was different- it's not a book about grief, or sadness, it's a book about the thing we do in desperation to move on from the pain. It's an honest story about the cruel secrets of human nature.

Note: I must warn you- there are some situations dealing with animal abuse in the book. While Paul is doing research on the ability of animals to communicate, he runs into a bizarre underground group that is determined- in any way possible- to get dogs to speak. I am *very* sensitive to issues of animal neglect and abuse, and while it was hard for me to get through some of the brief passages in the book dealing with these topics, it was not enough to get me to put the book down or turn me off from it. But if you are sensitive to it, you should be aware it comes up in the book.

Carolyn Parkhurst has a wonderful way of evoking scenes from the merest whispers of words. This may be by necessity, as the novel is framed as alternating chapters of approximately five pages each in which she follows her character Paul Iverson through flashbacks of his life with his wife, Lexy, and the sad present that finds Paul piecing together the mystery of how and why Lexy died. The brisk pacing and Parkhurst's faculty for creating vignettes that your mind fleshes out make this a quick and not altogether unsatisfying read.

Lexy's character is certainly the most compelling, not the least because of her having died in the opening sentence. Lexy is complex in the most satisfying way, both laughter and sorrow, sunshine and darkness. Her appeal drives the novel, and we as readers wnat to know more about her. We, like Paul, want to unravel the mystery not only of her death, but of Lexy herself.

Unfortunately, Paul himself seems more alive (and believeable) in the flashbacks with Lexy. Alone with their dog, Lorelei, in the absence of Lexy, Paul is not just a figure of grief, but a character who seems too much an inhabitant of the page. That is, the flashbacks seem to be a part of a world, a fictive reality where we believe the characters continue on after we stop reading about them. But the Paul of the present seems too much a writer's sketch, and the second half of the book is fraught with worse sins of writing.

The passages about Wendell Hollis and the Cerberus Society are very nearly unreadable, and don't bear explanation here. The psychic, Lady Arabelle, is likewise an uncomfortable and ill-considered plot device. Not only do these two plot "twists" defy the reality Parkhurst so carefully crafted earlier in the novel, they threaten to highjack our interest in the story altogether. That they do not is perhaps partly due to the fact that we keep getting a glimpse of the past, of Lexy, and we forgive the author her indiscretions to work our way to the end with Paul.

The end, ultimately, does not redeem these clunky plot contrivances, but it does offer a beautiful summation of Parkhurst's talents as author. The final paragraph is wondrous, and pulls together the the colorful metaphors of Lexy in a jewel of a moment.

I wish Ms. Parkhurst would eschew the too obvious: Paul, a linguist, is married to Lexy (punning of the Greek "lexikos," pertaining to words, as well as the library of Alexandria of antiquity); Lorelei, the siren of Germanic myth, is the mute witness of Lexy's death that Paul is obsessed with; Lexy's rearrangement of books, we know well in advance, will be some sort of code; even the apple tree itself, with overtones of Eden.

The idea that Lexy fell from an apple tree at once sets the reader on notice that he must put aside credulity to a certain degree; this is both liberating for the author and a dangerous high-wire act to attempt. Likewise, the idea that Lorelei might "speak" to Paul is a trail of breadcrumbs that could lead to some dark woods. But the reader can embrace those parameters. Had the novel not over-reached its plot in the second half, this could have been a 4- or 5-star book. Paul's life as an academic, too, seems stitched-on, as if to compensate for his never having been as well sketched as Lexy.

But I can forgive the author these shortcomings. There is enough in Lexy, and in Parkhurst's evocation of her with a wink of fable, to make me hope her second novel does not fall prety to the sophomore slump, but rather reverses it. She has a powerful sense of human inter-relation, but drifts when her characters are alone. But most tellingly are those moments when this novel does sing, as it does in the second chapter when Parkhurst evokes the Homeric muse to write: "I sing of a woman with ink on her hands and pictures hidden beneath her hair." Parkhurst's gift is that she can sing, when she is not foisting chunks of plot upon us that feel like they belong in forgettable novels rather than flashes of a brilliant other world.

Prior to reading this novel, I wasn't sure if I wanted to or not. I had heard good things about it, but I didn't think I'd find it very interesting. Boy was I wrong! The Dogs of Babel is officially on my list for the best books I've read this year.

Paul Iverson's wife, Lexy, is found dead after an apparent fall from an apple tree in their yard. The only witness is their dog, Lorelei, who cannot relay the answer to Paul's most important question -- did Lexy fall on accident, or was it suicide? As a linguistics professor, Paul does a lot of research and work with the spoken word. Why couldn't he teach Lorelei to talk? So Paul takes a sabbatical and embarks on the process of teaching Lorelei to say what she knows about that fateful day.

I loved every minute of this book. The Dogs of Babel is beautifully written and I commend Carolyn Parkhurst for writing this story. However, it is more about teaching a dog to talk. The flashbacks of Paul and Lexy's life together are the best parts of the book. Lexy is a free-spiritied and troubled character, and their courtship and marriage was incredibly romantic and tragic at the same time. And despite some sensitive material about dog abuse, I still found The Dogs of Babel an exquisite read.

This story is painful and hopeful all rolled in a coating of grief. If you have ever lost a love either by death or dumping you can relate to Paul's emotional struggles. Especially when he wonders how his lovely but mysterious wife could have wound up dead under the tree. Their courtship was beautiful and yet Lexi snaps into rages that Paul thinks will be calmed by their love. The writing is seductive and her word choices are most unique. This tale will pull you along even when your logical mind tries to throw a tantrum. Just go with it....it's a story after all and meant to be an escape. This is one of the best stories I have read in a long time. Not the most well written or ploted but the best emotional heart tugging story.

I can see how animal lovers would be upset at the subplot of surgery performed on beloved dogs but I would say that it's far from "graphic", disturbing yes but only because the author's writing is so real that we believe this to be happening. At that point in the story, we as the reader have become attached to Lorelei and fear for her.

I found myself hoping Paul would snap out of it but knowing that dealing with grief is not an overnight process Many reviewers have critizied him for being so blind to Lexi's obvious instability, but when you are in love, you want so badly to overlook those flaws. Her rages were few and far between so that he could almost forget them but near the end he begins to notice how difficult it was living with her moods. I think Lexi felt his drifting and decided to set him free by killing herself. Twisted but to a disturbed person you can see how she knew she was a burden to their love. Flashback to Disney and she talks about how she "ruined everything" by getting upset.

Interesting how the author doesn't go into Lexi's background to explain anything. We just get the present life and usually that is what you know about your SO- most people edit or hide their troubles (Like Lexi creates masks to hide behind)

I think the most hurtful times in the book were the nasty notes and jokes left by his coworkers at the college. I'm sure many can relate to that pain of being treated as a joke, especially when you are going through a painful loss.

Near the end, I wanted Paul to survive, be happy, get angry at Lexi, realize that she was screwed up and go on with his life and come out of his pain wiser and stronger.

I can't wait to see what this author comes up with next.

Read this book- you'll love it.

This beautiful book reads like a fable, so please don't be too literal-minded reading it. It's a story of blinding love, grief, and memory. I loved this author's ability to see beauty in sadness.

It's also about taking someone's full measure. Yes, I found the descriptions of dog mutilation scary, but I thought it served a metaphorical purpose; Loralei is a dog and Paul (the narrator)eventually finds his love for her in what she is, not what he wants.The narrator's deceased wife is another fully realized character, smart, funny, talented, ... and depressed. In so many ways their relationship is ideal, yet he never betrays to the reader the difficult parts of loving her. He cannot change either of them.

If you enjoy parables, myths, and fairy tales this book is especially for you. The parellels between his story and that of "Janet and Tamlin" are clever and heartbreaking.

This is the first book since "Everything is Illuminated" that I took out the library, then went out and bought after I read it because I needed to own it. I highly recommend it.

I got this as an advanced reading copy from a friend in publishing. She dropped it in front of me and said "READ THIS". The last time she did that it was Alice Sebold's Lovely Bones, so I listened to her and I read. And I was not disappointed.

The book (as everybody else has said before) is about a man who loses his wife. There's something ODD about his wife's death, though, so he tries to teach his dog to communicate with him and tell him what happened the day she died. Sounds hokey, but it's not. Trust me, it's not.

The book takes on a bit of mystery as you go . . . as a reader want to know what happened to Lexy. You want the dog to talk. You want Paul to stop acting crazy. Pieces of the dead wife's history begin to unfold as you continue through, and you realize what a wonderful, sad, character Lexy was. The author takes her time, making you like the character you never meet, and by the end you are touched by Lexy's story and how Paul and the dog tie in.

The only reason that I gave this book 4 stars and not 5 is the dog talking bit got a little weird on me at one point. There's a subplot that involves a network of people that try to teach dogs to talk and the crazy things done on their 'quest'. I understand why it's in the book, but some of it gets a little raunchy. I would have rather dedicated those pages to Lexy the Mask Maker, but beggers can't be choosers. I'm still thrilled with the rest of the novel.

Buy this book. Delve into it and enjoy it. It won't be that hard to do. There is a poignant sadness that colors every page. The author really makes you care about the little family of Paul, Lexy, and Lorelei. And the last few pages, when Paul realizes exactly what happened, will choke you up. They are a real heartbreaker.

Happy Reading.

Like many other reviewers, I found the idea intriguing, and as a dog lover, certainly sympathized with the idea of trying to find out what's going on behind those eyes. The finish had some emotional content and value.

But, the book had so many flaws that I found incredibly distracting:
Even if I hadn't known it was written by a woman, I would have figured it out in a few pages. Paul does, notices, and says things that men probably wouldn't. For example, he mentions Lexy's dress as being embroidered "from bodice to hem." Most men know what those words mean, but I've yet to meet one who would notice it, much less mention it.

The man's an idiot--to connect to my point above, he notices clothing and other such things, but somehow doesn't realize his incredibly depressed and suicidal wife is suicidal. And he picked a fight with her the night before she died. Hmmmn.

He brings his dog to a cult that mutilates dogs???? That happened to be in his neighborhood????

That there actually was a psychic named Miss Adelle (or whatever it was),instead of that just being the name of the business. And that he found her! And she kept scrupulous notes for a book she was going to write (was it going to be called "every Tarot reading I've ever done"?)

The magical plot-forwarding TV that he has. Reports of Dog J getting stolen on the national news? Lexy getting chosen as a sample voice for a commercial? He happened to see it?

The Talking Dog thing had very little to do with the story or the plot or the denouement, and of course led us to see Dog J, which was among the most unnecessarily disturbing scenes I can remember reading. That and the even more unnecessary mutilation of Lorelei.

That also must be a crazy apple tree, with a ledge at the top and all. That's not really how trees grow--they kind of peter out with smaller and smaller branches. You generally can't stand at the top and just topple over and not hit branches on the way down.

And the whole Disney/spontaneity thing. Please. Fine, the idea was original. But I didn't buy that she hadn't thought about it before the date, as evidenced by her strong feelings about ordering dinner. She announces that only appetizers should be eaten, or else the date would have to be over (really? why not just avoid dessert?), but it sounded like a rule she had thought of ahead of time, not the musings of someone making stuff up as they go along.

Finally, perhaps the biggest flaw is its overall structure. Paul must have instantly known she had committed suicide. Knowing everything we knew at the end, it was pretty darned obvious. But he knew all of that at the beginning. He didn't discover that she had attempted suicide in the past--he knew it all along. He didn't discover that she had threatened suicide recently--he knew it all along. He didn't just suddenly discover that they had had a terrible fight the night before she died--He picked that fight!

I think this would have been a good short story. Everything she used to lengthen it beyond the central concept hurt it.

To begin with "The Dogs of Babel" is a pretty unusual and sophisticated title for a novel. This is a good start for any book. This is the kind of reference that characterizes the contemporary novel. More than making an auto-reference, the writers opts for referring to something outside her novel --by doing that she trusts her reader, and beleives that the person who is buying the book has enough knowledge to 'decipher' the title. With her "The Dogs of Babel", Carolyn Parkhurst aims in a distant target and doesn't miss her shot.

Not for a single second is the Babel legend mentioned in the novel --it is a knowledge you must have prior to begin the book. And if you still don't have in the end, you will be moved to learn about it. And, believe me, it totally fits the narrative.

The book tells the story of a linguist who decides to do the impossible: teach his dog to speak. In his mind he has a good reason. The dog is the only witness of the fall from an apple tree that killed his wife. What is consuming him is the fact he does not know whether that falls was an accident or a suicide. He has reasons to believe in the second option.

Alternating between past and present, the story of Paul and his wife Lexy is unfolded and we learn that despite the true love, there were mental issues consuming her. The more we read the more plausible is the suicide.

With the tone that is melancholic from the beginning, Parkhurst tells the story with a man struggling to survive --find a reason to keep up, when there is nothing left for him. The narrator has to deal with the grief, and doesn't know how to. The wish of making the dog learn to speak is at the same time his way of accepting his wife is gone. If on one hand he wants the dog to 'tell the truth', on the other, once the truth is told, there will not be much left of his wife, but his memories.

Indeed Parkhusrt's premise is original and poignant. Her option on telling the story may sound na?ve at some parts, but that is how she chose to make her point. Alongside with Audrey Niffenegger's "The Time Traveler's Wife" and Mark Haddon's "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time", "The Dogs of Babel" makes the trilogy of the mental instability. Each of them has its flaws, but more qualities than problems. Another thing, the paperback edition cover is very beautiful.

Anna Quindlen...I really admire her, don't you? Such a gifted writer. A woman of keen intellect and insight into the human condition and body politic. Consequently, for some years now, I have read her avidly, most frequently agreeing with her every utterance and always admiring her bountiful talent.

So, when Quindlen last year very enthusiastically endorsed Alice Sebold's "The Lovely Bones," I was all ears even though it didn't sound too appealing. Adolescent girl, rape, heaven...? Ugh...sounded like a religious book...a chick book...or, worse yet, Hallmarky sentimental. Nonetheless, based solely on Quindlen's rapturous review, I read "Bones." And I was enthralled from the first page. Seldom have I -- a voracious reader -- read a novel as gripping, lyrical, and as provocative. Hooray for Sebold for crafting this gem of a novel -- and for Quindlen for shining the spotlight on it.

So when I read in USA Today that Quindlen had blessed another new author and novel, Carolyn Parkhurst and her "The Dogs of Babel," I counted down the days to its June 2003 publication, knowing that I was in for a big treat: a compelling, page-turning story beautifully and intelligently told. "Dogs" was published; I bought it; I read it in a few days.

And now I have a question for Anna Q.: What were you thinking?

One word springs to mind in describing "Dogs": dumb. The story is just flat-out dumb. And I am not referring to the widower's wanting to teach the dog to speak in order to learn what happened on that October afternoon in the backyard. That's a lamebrained notion. Of course. But the poor widower, a linquist, is desperate to discern the facts of his late, beloved wife's last day. Yes indeed, I thought as I ended chapter one, this is going to an excellent novel.

Wrong. After that first chapter, the story plodded along. Not great, but not bad. And then I hit page 165 and The Cerberus Society. This, Dear Readers, is where "Dogs" plummeted into a death spiral of idiocy. Groaning, I kept reading, believing that the Quindlen-annointed Parkhurst was going to pull her story out of this free-fall. But she didn't. And the rearranged books...? I won't elaborate as not to give away any of the story, but, trust me, it's more groan-inducing idiocy.

Also, for the record, even though the husband Paul Iverson tells the story, it was not quite right. Unlike, say, Wally Lamb's "She's Come Undone" in which Lamb tells his story convincingly from the woman's perspective, I somehow always was aware that Paul's story was being written by a woman.

Fellow Amazonians, my advice to you: Save your money. But if you do invest your money and time into "Dogs," I hope you disagree with me completely and enjoy it immensely.

As for me, though, I was very disappointed. Not only in this lackluster novel, but in My Anna. Missy, next time you recommend a book, I assuredly will wait to see what the critics and Amazonians have to say about the book before I make any purchase.