Dewey The Small Town Library Cat Who Touched the World by Vicki Myron with Bret Witter

This book proves I don't just read history books, poetry, and television adaptations!

I am an avowed cat lover, having had cats around me for almost my entire life--neighborhood outdoor cats first, then some of our own, then finally my own bundles of hellspawn, er, I mean joy that are with us today. Only my college years and first few apartments were cat-free, and I missed them the entire time.

So it comes as no surprise that when I heard of this book, the story of a stray kitten who should by all rights have died but instead managed to survive a cold night in a library book drop, it was something I wanted to read.

Dewey Readmore Books, the full name of the cat to the left of this text, ended up staying at the library he was found at, adopted by the staff and Director Vicki Myron in particular. It's quite unusual for a library to keep a pet, and Myron explains that the decision was not easily arrived at--not when there's a board of good old boys to pacify and the usual bogus cat rumours to deal with. It takes a special cat to find a home in a public place with open doors and not run away (there's no way three of my cats could handle the job, and the fourth is stationary just because he's fourteen), and, as it turned out, Dewey was just such a cat.

Most of the book is about Dewey's life as a library cat, starting off as an energetic, rubber band-stealing kitten and moving through his middle age, where he helps place Spencer on the map. There is also the tear-jerking story of his last days, which of course affected me, having lost an inherited cat to cancer earlier this year. (SPAY YOUR DAMNED CATS!) However, Myron also splices in pieces of her own life and how Dewey affected her during rough times, such as her relationship to her daughter or dealing with her own many health issues. Depending on how you feel about such things, the personal sections either add to the book, showing how cats really do become a part of your life, or are an attempt to get a bit of autobiography out there through the lens of Dewey's story.

Personally, I don't think you can write a book about cat without talking about the people involved. When Myron discusses her own struggles, and Dewey's ability to bond with her at just the right moments, cat owners know exactly how she feels. It's no different than the passages telling how Dewey interacted with people who needed help at the library itself, in my opinion.

Myron also works in some details about the town itself and trying to keep a vibrant, Carnegie-founded library open during hard economic times. A lot of what she said rang true for me, growing up at the edge of the similarly effected Mon Valley in Pittsburgh. Her dedication as library director to keep the library as a place that catered to the needs of all despite perceptions makes for interesting reading.

But the main star of this book is of course Dewey, possibly the most finnicky stray cat I've ever read about. Whether he was sitting in laps at geneology club, hiding in desk drawers, or looming over everyone at the top of the light fixtures, Dewey became a draw for the patrons. His adventures make the book sing, as Myron does a great job of working in just enough description for you to picture the scenes in your head. Dewey was apparently a cat that was just so in touch with humans that he was able to function in a way few other cats could.

The last days of Dewey are particularly sad to me, as they show why so many adult cats end up in shelters. As Dewey aged, he became sick and could not do all those great tricks anymore. And the same people who loved Dewey the sweet cat became agitated at seeing his fur get older, his gait get slower, and his aches and pains increase. I hate to go all "conservative" here, but that disposable attitude people have to everything from televisions to cars to pets is disgusting. Myron quietly shows her anger at Dewey's abandonment, but good for her for holding on to him for as long as possible.

Dewey got a lot of press over the years, from the usual sources (cat magazines) to regional pieces to an international spot in a Japanese special(!). A lot of people came to know him, and some even drove hundreds of miles to see Dewey in his native home. The Spencer Library keeps up a web presence for him, which I think is a nice touch. This book is a great send off for a cat that touched thousands of lives, and is highly recommended for anyone who loves cats and books.

The Littlest Hitler by Ryan Boudinot

I think this one came from the NYT Book Review, if I remember correctly. I get so many ideas from so many sources--and I'm so slow to get things off the to-read list and on to the reading list--that it's hard to remember sometimes. Regardless, I have a new writer to enjoy and one that writes my favorite type of story, the short one.

While I can't say I like all of his writing, as you'll see, I like the idea that he tries to get across--namely that the short story doesn't have to be a stilted still-life that tries to be Important. There's plenty of room for the absurd and the rude, rather than just fare for a literary magazine.

All of Boudinot's characters are, for lack of a better word, fucked in the head. There isn't a single story here that's played straight for longer than it needs to be. While each of the protagonists tends to think of their lives as relatively normal, to the reader there's a definite sense of "what shock comes next?"

For some readers, that may be a turn off, but I grew up on family members who loved "Twlight Zone" and "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and "Tales from the Crypt" was taped weekly when I was growing up and seeing it on Fox reruns. I think a shock ending or odd twist, if done well, can be a hell of a lot of fun. And Boudinot provides that type of thing in spades.

The book opens with a bang--the title story is about a parent who dresses his son up as Hitler and the son who is so dressed. I think the best part of this one is that the father acts completely surprised that this caused trouble at school.

Or take "Blood Relations", a pair of tales about a cannibalistic mother and a serial killer taken to school.

Here's a pretty typical set of writing from Boudinot:

"It was Dads Day at my six-year-old's kindergarten class. We sat in miniature chairs arranged in a semicircle on the rug, answering questions about our professions. One dad broke a beer truck, another was a landscape architect. There were two orthopedic surgeons among us. The teacher, Ms. Vanderbilt, nodded at me when it was my turn.
'I'm a serial killer.'
'Pardon?' Ms. Vanderbilt said.
'I murder people. Maybe you've seen some of the books about me.' I withdrew from my Discovery Channel tote bag a number of paperbacks chronicling my career.
A boy in the back raised his hand. 'What kind of people do you kill?' he said.
'Nobody important,' I said, and the room seemed to come down several notches, terror-wise."

That's pretty typical of the protagonists contained within this book--they look at life much like the Aadams Family does. To their minds, what they do is perfectly normal, such as "Containment," which features a zombie working at a pea-checking plant. (His only crime is a lack of safety.)

Not quite all of the stories are out there. "The Flautist" is a sad story of a man trying to be something he's not, hanging with a crowd he can't truly embrace, and his prized possession may be the price he pays before waking up to the truth. (One might argue that he should try anyway, but the pain of his realization in the closing words of the story really hit me and that ocverrides any other considerations.) "On Sex and Relationships" has a similar theme, as two couples who are moving in different directions try to stay friends. These stories show Boudinot's range, and may be two of the best collected here.

Sadly, there are also a few really bad entries in this collection that keep it from making my best of 2008 (though Publisher's Weekly did name it as Book of the Year in 2006). "Civilization" is an unfunny parody of a right-wing world where Family Values are a bit skewed. Killing parents is every child's duty in a controlled society and Boudinot never misses a chance to beat us over the head with a "witty" satirical reference. "The Sales Team" involves rape as a joke, and I'm not laughing. Last but not least, "Absolut Boudinot" makes light of domestic terrorism. I'm not prudish enough to say we can't laugh in the face of the most serious horrors, but I'd request that they be a bit more subtle. Hitting me over the head with a brick is not satire, at least not the type of satire I enjoy.

Overall, I liked this book and would recommend it. But be forewarned it may not be your cup of tea, and even if it is, you're unlikely to like all of it. It's the great thing about short stories--you never waste a lot of time reading any particular one!

Star Trek 2 by James Blish

Continuing my quixotic quest to read all the Star Trek adaptations in order, next up is the second in James Blish's books that write up summaries of the original series episodes. (It's hard to call them more than that, when you're only spending 20 pages per episode.)

This time around we have two very famous stories, "Space Seed" (the introduction of Kahn) and "City at the Edge of Forever", Harlon Ellison's legally-challenged but brilliant episode.

The copy I read even boasts about the Kahn story on the cover. Sadly, I was not able to find an image with that blazoned on the front.

However, it is those two famous stories that short the shortcomings of this style of adaptation. In his cramped space, Blish must remove entire incidents, robbing them of the careful touches that make the original Star Trek so entertaining, even after all these years. "City" has a special preface note indicating the trouble Blish had working from Ellison's script and the final episode, and it shows. There's just not enough time for Kirk's love to develop, so when we have the final death scene, it's hard to tell why he's so attached to this one woman.

A similar problem develops in "Arena", where Spock helplessly watches Kirk struggle, knowing what can save him but unable to commuicate (cut), "A Taste of Armageddon", where the dipomat is shown to be unable to recognize a true threat in a cold war allusion (cut), and "Court Marshall", where the tension of man versus machine is not cut but crammed into the space Blish was allotted.

Perhaps it's just these particular episodes being hard to place into text or I'm just getting more familiar with the formula and less interested in it, but I have to say, I wasn't overly fond of this one. I don't think it's Blish's fault--he's good with a turn of phrase and his dialog actually does snap in the places where he has room to use it--but the whole exercise is reminding me of an old professor of mine who made us write papers summarizing 200 page books in 10 pages. Yes, you learn something about concise writing, but what's the point?

I'll see if the third book is better, but I may skip ahead to the books instead if not. My advice to you is to just give this one a pass.

Time and Materials by Robert Hass

This is another National Book Award winner, which I think caught my eye when I was reading the New York Times Book Review on a regular basis. Hass, a collaborator with Czeslaw Milosz (one of my favorite poets), writes in a style that's very quiet. With a simplicity of lines and a keen eye for theme, Hass can say more about his subject than a lot of other poets, without going over the top or being melodramatic.

Here's a good example of what I am referring to, "Envy of Other People's Poems":

"In one version of the legend the sirens couldn't sing.
It was only a sailor's story that they could.
So Odysseus, lashed to the mast, was harrowed
By a music that he didn't hear--plungings of sea,
wind-sheer, the off-shore hunger of the birds--
And the mute women gathering kelp for garden mulch,
Seeing him strain against the cordage, seeing
The awful longing in his eyes, are changed forever
On their rocky waste of island by their imagination
Of his imagination of the song they didn't sing."

This is deconstruction of myth done on the down low. No grand lines about all the wrongs of the patriarchal past or anything, just "hey, what if Odysseus was terrified by the lack of what he wanted?" It's very well done, but it's done almost so subtly as to be missed. (Though, since this *did* win a major award, perhaps I am wrong in saying it could be overlooked.)

In "The Problem of Describing Trees", Hass takes a few licks, again very quietly, at poetry itself:

"The apsen glitters in the wind
And that delights us.

The leaf flutters, turning,
Because that motion in the heat of August
Protects its cells from drying out. Likewise the leaf
Of the cottonwood.

The gene pool threw up a wobbly stem
And the tree danced. No.
The tree capitalized.
No. There are limits to saying,
In language, what the tree did.

It is good sometimes for poetry to disenchant us.

Dance with me, dancer. Oh, I will.

Mountains, sky,
The aspen doing something in the wind."

Am I reading too much into Hass's lines? Maybe, but that's the fun of being a reviewer, you get to put your own spin on things. "Art and Life", a longer poem, uses a painter as the subject, but the theme also seems to tie into a poet and his writing. I'll only reproduce the ending here:

"...Here is the life that chose you
And the one you chose. Here is the brush, horsehair,
Hair of the badger, the goat's beard, the sable,
And here is the smell of paint. The volitile, sharp oils
Of linseed, rapeseed. Here is the stench of the essence
Of pinewood in a can of turpentine. Here is the hand,
Flick of wrist, tendon-ripple of the brushstroke. Here--
Cloud, lake water lifting on a summer morning,
Ash and ash and chalky ash--is the stickiness of paint
Adhering to the woven flax of the canvas, here
Is the faithfulness of paint on paint on paint on paint.
Something stays this way we cannot have,
Comes alive because we cannot have it."

Change a few of those words, and it's a comment on the writer trying to capture that which he sees and that which he imagines.

And hey, even if you don't agree with me in relation to the meaning--look at that artistry of the flow of the poem. The density of the words, the beauty of the repetition, the power and description placed in every line. This poem itself is a work of art!

As with Milosz, the poems collected here either come from personal experience or are written in such a way as to make the reader feel close to the speaker. There is an intimacy that comes out through the pages which draws me into work such as Hass' that other writers cannot match. We could make character sketches of the speakers, be they women performing daily tasks or a young boy watching his father pull power trips over his wife in the underbelly of the 1950s.

Not all the poems are quite so serious. Hass includes a section of playful writing with his friend Milosz, based on the difference between "o" and "oh", and there's even a short piece featuring cucumber, called, appropriately enough, "Poem with a Cucumber In It." Another poem is an argument between two lovers that's written in verse with dashes indicating the change in speakers. The variety of styles is actually quite amazing.

I usually end poetry reviews with one more parting line from the artist, but I think this time I will merely recommend Hass' work to you, because there really is no definitive piece to quote. As vast as it is quiet, this book's materials will definitely hold up over time.

(I did not, please note, promise not to leave on a horrible pun based on the book's title.)

Star Trek 1 by James Blish

While going back and watching the original series in order, I discovered that I am in fact a rather big fan of Star Trek. Memories of begging to be allowed to watch TV over dinner came flooding back to me, as did trying to tape the old marathon runs on UHF stations and being very upset that I wasn't able to see Star Trek V (or was it VI?) with my friends.

A newer, more critical viewing shows the subtle ways in which the show evolved over time, like how they found that McCoy was a winning character or that Spock works better as a being with a dry wit rather than a complete machine (something Next Gen also learned with Data, come to think of it).

While we were watching the shows, I mentioned how Star Trek novels actually didn't suck, as opposed to the Star Wars adaptations I read. So, in a fit of either inspiration or madness, your call, I figured I would try to run through as many Trek novels as I could before getting tired of the idea.

And because I am a sequentialist, I simply have to read them in order.

So here we are, with the first Trek novel, an adaptation of seven episodes of the original series, written by an Englishman before the show had crossed the pond. None of them are very long, only about 20 pages or so at the max in a mass market format. As a result, the feeling is more like cliff notes of the episodes, hitting the highlights rather than going into depth.

What's most interesting, however, are the little touches Blish adds, like "McCoy didn't like Spock" during the Romulan encounter, that show he's not working from the complete picture of the series, just (presumably) script drafts. There's also notes about Kirk's distaste for desk-bound Federation departments that will use the ships scientific explorations for war, a clear reference to the Cold War military research and the ever escalating levels of destruction made capable in the 1960s.

Blish also seems more inclined to make the Enterprise's crew feel like a sailing ship rather than a science fiction vessal, something that probably ties to England's longstanding nautical tradition. There's stuff about long voyages, lack of communication, reactions to females not onboard the shop, and so on. That's Blish moving out on his own, as the series itself doesn't seem to concentrate on this nearly as much.

The episodes covered here are a bit out of order from how they aired originally, but that honestly doesn't change much, as Blish does not try to use prior experiences to move the characterization (this, I think, is the biggest flaw of the adaptations, other than their extreme brevity). I'm not entirely sure why, unless this was the planned airing order for Britain.

All in all, unless you are a hardcore Star Trek fan, there's probably no reason to read these. I, of course, will continue to do so, because I'm funny that way. You might want to pick one up along the way, just to see the early days of adaptations.

Letters to Juliet by Lise Friedman and Ceil Friedman

Erica kidded me all through this this one being in the house, as, believe it or not, I've never read--nor do I intend to read--Romeo and Juliet. However, as soon as I heard of this book, I knew I needed to read it.

It turns out that, for at least a century, possibly longer, people have been writing letters to Juliet, asking her for advice. This book does some cultural anthropology into the beginnings of the letters, interspersing some of the letters actually written to Juliet over t...more Erica kidded me all through this this one being in the house, as, believe it or not, I've never read--nor do I intend to read--Romeo and Juliet. However, as soon as I heard of this book, I knew I needed to read it.

It turns out that, for at least a century, possibly longer, people have been writing letters to Juliet, asking her for advice. This book does some cultural anthropology into the beginnings of the letters, interspersing some of the letters actually written to Juliet over the years.

I think it's most fascinating that the first "Juliet" to respond was the male groundskeeper and that the second Juliet was also male. Though they worked alone and sometimes in anonymity, today there is a team of eight Juliets that take care of the high volume of mail she receives.

Most of the letters are fairly standard stuff of advice columns, but a few nearly brought me to tears, particularly a letter from a young lesbian in India, who not only had to face cultural bias, but one of class as well in relation to her true love.

This book was not anything like I'd expected it to be. Rather than just copy the letters for over 100 pages, the writers instead choose to focus on the historical Juliet, showing the reader around Verona and trying to locate the site of the original tomb as well as the alleged Romeo's house in addition to telling the story of how the Juliet phenomenon continued in fits and starts over the years. There are a nice selection of pictures to help visualize things, too. We probably didn't need the "history of Juliet" that opens the text, as it's less than what you'd get in an intro to the Shakespeare. However, that's a small quibble.

I think this book would make a great Travel Channel special and those of you interested in Shakespeare definitely should pick this up. It's amazing how Juliet has been turned into something of a modern goddess, in large part due to a man who wanted to do more within the civil service. It just goes to show that if you write a great character, they truly will live forever.

Fire to Fire by Mark Doty

I know it's shocking, but yes, I'm actually reviewing a relatively new book for a change. Usually by the time I get around to things, they're scuffed up, dog-eared, and there's only a little residue to show where the "new" sticker once lived.

But here I am, and with a National Book Award winner, to boot!

Fire to Fire is an odd choice to win an award, at least from my perspective. It's not really a new collection of poems--only the first 50 pages are new material, meaning that essentially a chapbook takes the cake over whatever other poetry books were published in 2008. I find it odd that a "Best of..." wins an award over entirely new material, but since I don't read enough new poetry to say this was or was not the best, I'll just note my eyebrow quirk at the selection and move on.

I must admit that I had trouble with this book. Because it featured a lot of selections from over Doty's life, it was hard for me to get a feel for his poetry at any given time. (I do not, as a rule, care for "best of..." books, preferring to make my own decisions in this regard.) This was further compounded by Doty's seeming desire to show how large his vocabulary is.

When I was in school, my mother made me look up any any all words I didn't know the meaning to, which gave me a life-long hatred of two things--the dictionary and people who used obscure words where common words will do. As a result, Doty's style was not a good fit for me personally, as I kept thinking about how I was really glad I didn't have to read any of his work in high school.

This does not, however, mean I disliked his poetry as a rule. Far from it. I liked his turn of phrase (when not going for five dollar words), and as long-time readers of my reviews know, I am a big fan of poetry of the personal, which Doty writes in abundance. There are quite a few poems dealing with the interrelations of himself and his friends, particularly those who are dying. I am assuming the most personal deal with a dying lover or lovers, but they could possibly be fictionalized.

Here's an example, "Brilliance":

"Maggie's taking care of a man
who's dying; he's attending to everything,
said goodbeye to his parents,

paid off his credit card.
She says Why don't you just
run it up to the limit?

but he wants everything
squared away, no balance owed,
though he misses the pets

he's already found a home for
--he can't be around dogs or cats,
too much risk. He says,

I can't have anything.
She says, A bowl of goldfish?
He says he doesn't want to start

with anything and then describes
the kind he'd maybe like,
how their tails would fan

to a gold flaring. They talk
about hot jewle tones,
gold lacquer, say maybe

they'll go pick some out
though he can't go much of anywhere and then
abruptly he says I can't love

anything I cant' finish.
He says it like he's had enough
of the whole scintillant worldm

though what he means is
he'll never be satisfied and therefore
has established this discipline,

a kind of severe rehersal.
That's where they leave it,
him looking out the windowm

her knitting as she does because
she needs to do something.
Later he leaves a message:

Yes to the bowl of goldfish.
Meaning: let me go, if I have to,
in brilliance. In a story I read,

a Zen master who'd perfected
his detachment from the things of the world
remembered, at the moment of dying,

a deer he used to feed in the park,
and wondered who might care for it,
and at that instant was reborn

in the stunned flesh of a fawn.
So, Maggie's friend--
is he going out

into the last loved object
of his attention?
Fanning the veiled translucence

of an opulent tail,
undulant in some uncapturable curve,
is he bronze chrysanthemums,

copper leaf, hurried darting,
doubloons, icon-colored fins
troubling the water?"

Though a bit longer than the poems I usually quote for reviews, I think it's the best example of Doty's closeness to whatever his subject is, whether it's getting a constantly one-upped massage, the love of a dog, or picking out kimonos with a friend. There is an intimacy of communication that I find deeply enjoyable, when I am not being hammered by the poet's wealth of obscure words.

I really wish I could quote in full another poem that shows, I think the personality of Doty, called "Homo Will Not Inherit," a poetic screed against those who would judge people who don't share their religious views. It starts with the setting, goes on to describe a posting with the title words on it, and then Doty shows the world that he as a homosexual (and to some extent, all outsiders from the norm--childfree couples, atheists, pagans, goths, punks, zinesters, and the like can all find a similar theme here, I think) inhabits is the kingdom he wishes to inherit. The city after dark, uncaring police, the love of a strange man--this is Doty's paradise.

I think this exerpt says it best: "...the exile you require of me,/you who've posted this invitation/to a heaven nobody wants." is a line many people I know can take to heart. "I have my kingdom," is the poem's last line. I couldn't agree more.

Doty's poetic style is a bit of an aquired taste, I think. He grew on me as the collection moved deeper into his earlier work, as I absorbed his world from the lines on the page. If you let yourself do that, too, I think you'll find this book, while a collection of the past, is worthy of an award nod. While I prefer whole texts, and will seek out Doty's other books, those looking for a sampling will find "Fire to Fire" well worth the read.