sanjana_datla's review against another edition
3.0
For a dog memoir it gets strangely philosophical. At times whimsial and at times outright ridiculous, this tribute to read friend is an unusual response to grief but maybe even an honest one.
kasiabrenna's review against another edition
3.0
Some of this I found quite touching, but parts of it were too scattered and out there for me. No criticism meant at all, just not my thing. I loved hearing about Rosie, though.
brookenaidoo's review against another edition
2.0
While I could appreciate the pushing of boundaries and the exploration of identity politics, this one confused and puzzled me. I wasn’t quite able to follow the story, but could appreciate the artistry.
tracethelight's review against another edition
3.0
I really wanted to love this book and it really is beautifully written in parts (I mean, duh - it’s Eileen Myles), but the truth is I had to abandon it. It feels very much like a poet’s memoir. I found myself enjoying gorgeous sentences but not getting much else out of it.
margalitkatz's review against another edition
3.0
This book was one of the weirdest books I’ve ever read. It started off as a 5 star book for me until about halfway through, when it completely devolved into incomprehensible passages that felt vaguely theoretical but just didn’t give me enough to hang onto, which was a bummer bc I would have been here for that kind of genre mix and the ideas being explored. Def worth a read if your dog dies, rlly raw and evocative yet brings up interesting points. Maybe just read the first half? Lol idk
toefurky's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
reflective
4.5
“Okay you can open your eyes. The pitbull is watching the skyline. She’s whispering inside my head. She’s singing to me. One tree, that’s all you need. Shaped like broccoli or cauliflower some rainy day. I’m glad I woke. Maybe I’ll make some coffee. She keeps whispering. One tree. That’s all you need. Start a whole civilization that way. One little piece grows it all. Feel the bump. And her paw holds my finger to the weave. I don’t want to wake up. That’s it, she says. Every part grows from every other part. Feel it. Every tiny leaf on the tree is singing. Can you hear it. Yes. Alright now.”
“Humans were biped dogs. Are we one? I think so. In that tapestry you knew what I meant. It was the crowded room of the cave. The rain comes down and you go outside because you feel it. This is what it is to be a dog. Weather and feeling and knowing. That’s why you let us remain. you love how we walk around smelling things. How we’re always hungry. You love how a dog picks a place on the rug and scratches and circles around and sits down and adjusts. ‘Now I’m in the room.’ And now I look up, and you laugh, why? Because of your deliberate apartness from yourself, and I always bring you back. Do you see what I mean? You wait, and then you sniff. That yellowish tree down there by the lake is waving, you think its not communicating? Not as much as, say, that door down the hall? Slam. Not as much as the rooms?”