A Dog's Purpose

What is a dog's purpose? Not *the* dog's purpose, but this specific dog's purpose? Like, your dog? What is his purpose in his life, a considerably shorter one than we'll hopefully enjoy? Is it just to be a human companion? To save people in every definition of the word? What about a dog who doesn't enjoy the comforts of domesticity? What purpose do the stray dogs have? In W. Bruce Cameron's A Dog's Purpose, one such dog - yes, dog - grapples with all of these questions and more as he moves through, experiences, and loves and hates various different lives.

As a puppy - and as he continues to grow, die, and be reborn a new puppy - his instincts are sharp, the most pointed towards humans; responding to them, reacting to them, obeying them, and feeding off the emotions of them. He knows right off that man trumps all other Top Dogs in his makeshift packs, that his life is completely dependent upon how his owner wants it to be; and he's ok with that, relishes it and even craves it.

"He" has various names as he navigates the very different aspects of each of his lives. He is given names and accepts them wholeheartedly but, interestingly enough, is very particular about who he chooses to attach himself too. Some extra scrutiny pointed towards my own dogs and I notice this is very much the same - other people just don't matter.

But once he leaves his most favorite person of all, he's frustrated and confused to learn that taking care of him hadn't been his ultimate purpose. What was it?! And if his life is supposed to have purpose, why did he come back only to have lives that seemingly had no purpose?

Over the span of several lifetimes - some short, some long - he experiences a wide range of the dog-life spectrum, from puppy-hood, to the family dog, to the working dog, stray dog, forgotten dog, neglected dog, abandoned dog, traveling dog, but always a good dog. He always remembered his previous lives, and the lives before that, often drawing on experiences from each to roll him into one extraordinary dog (clearly my own fur-babies are on their first life).

Research was done, and while the book isn't anything scientific, it does offer some enlightenment and heartfelt appreciation for those pooches we do make as family. And it's interesting to see some of Cameron's simply-described, yet incredibly vivid scenes play out in my own dogs, being aware of them taking their cues from our emotions, observing when they know they need to stay close as opposed to wandering more freely, and noticing when each sticks to the respective person they've deemed "theirs" (I type this as the dog I had before getting married lays at my feet).

Written simply, as though written by a dog, I often found myself needing to be reminded that it was actually written by a human. And then there were other instances where it was clearly written by a human who didn't think very highly of cats (or horses). As appropriately stated on the front cover by the author of The Color Purple, "I laughed and smiled and cried," sometimes all at the same time.

So while The Art of Racing in the Rain focused on the Mongolian belief that dogs are reborn as humans, A Dog's Purpose operates on the idea of reincarnation until their purpose is satisfied, reminiscent of what little I know of Hindu theology that a person will continue to come back and live until they have lived a "good" life. This book makes me wonder if my childhood Golden Retriever, Sam, might someday make it back to me.

As Buddy, he finally, heartbreakingly understands his purpose and is ready for peace. But his work might not be over yet....

I wasn't aware of the sequel until writing that last sentence so the sudden, rough ending of A Dog's Purpose is now understandable. Written as if Cameron wasn't sure a sequel would follow, the end is an abrupt, ragged, everything-wrapped-up-in-a-tear-stained-bow ending without really explaining why.

I emotionally rated this book on goodreads.com five stars out of five after it was the only book I actually cried after finishing as opposed to while I was finishing. After calming down and considering the blunt - dare I say, forced - ending, I'd change it to four out of five. While this read is completely worth the time and effort, and worth hauling around in your tote, animal stories - particularly dog stories - always come with a certain trepidation. Being written from the dog's perspective can ease that as well as make it worse, depending on the circumstance. Do I really want to know how he feels being dropped off at the shelter? While at the same time, appreciating his lack of understanding when he just *has* to be in the bedroom during "adult wrestling," Cameron expertly dancing between the two.

All in all, A Dog's Purpose is a great book, worth the time, and one of those rare specimens that leaves you a little altered afterward. And it's like my dogs knew I was reading about them or something, as they seem to appreciate me just a little more, too. But maybe that is just their purpose.

Goodnight Nobody

After perusing Goodreads.com, I briefly considered making this summer the Summer of Weiner (as in, Jennifer). There is quite the long list of hers I've not read or even heard of so I'm sure they'll wind up on a summer reading list at some point.

I brought few books with me on vacation to Arizona and Mexico because I'm literally the last person on earth not to have an e-reading device (when I made an effort to pay close attention, I noticed I was the only one around me in airplanes holding a physical book). Being in the middle of Gone Girl, I knew I would want my next read to be something that would suck me in and make me laugh. Weiner did not disappoint. Just as I suspected with The Guy Not Taken: Stories, Weiner really shines in the 350+-page novel category.

As a full-time working mom, Goodnight Nobody is a story of what I want to be, but is also a frightening portrayal of what some fear of becoming. And, of course, working or stay-at-home, discovering a murdered neighbor isn't high on my priority list.

Kate Klein is what she refers to herself as an "accidental mother of three." With her husband gone a lot, she spends a lot of her time with arts n' crafts, frozen, microwavable food, board games, and at least one trip to the playground a day that usually ends up leaving Kate frustrated with her apparent ineptitude at parenting according to the suburban, Stepford, super-moms. But one of those super-mom ends up dead, Kate being the one and only to stumble upon her body, and the only one with the resources to solve the crime. What ultimately ends up happening is that the world is just too damn small, something everyone everywhere can relate to.

Once again, Weiner delivers a witty, intelligent, funny, dramatic, and intriguing novel with great mystery and the obligatory twist. It was a great beach n' travel book, totally worth hauling in your beach tote (no doubt you've downsized to a clutch for summer). The cast of characters keeps you involved, constantly wanting more, and liking them even though you probably shouldn't; just like Miss Klein, herself.

Glad to check off another one of hers as read.

Gone Girl

So I took a bit of a detour from Jennifer Weiner's The Guy Not Taken: Stories and Goodnight Nobody with a returning author, Gillian Flynn and her incredibly disturbing Gone Girl. I read her Sharp Objects for book club and was thoroughly creeped; most of the scenes left me feeling like Flynn could use a nice long stay in a pysch ward. And I have to admit, had I read Gone Girl first, I think I would have "accidentally forgotten" to read Sharp Objects. For the losers who didn't read the book that month, we filled them in and it was enough to detour them from ever reading it.

Flynn writes the story we've seen a million times splattered over the news - wife disappears, husband is the prime suspect, and his strange behavior isn't helping matters. But the vivid, creative, every-detail-thought-of way she tells the story can only lead me to assume she's thought about unfolding this scenario before.

Flynn leads you on a wild chase of you knowing who did it, not being entirely sure who did it, wondering who actually did do it, and all the while in the back of your mind thinking what you do when it's a news story: was anything actually done or is it like that story of the bride who staged her own kidnapping? You never actually know until you do, and then you're even more disturbed than before.

This book is a definite beach-read and something you'll get sucked into and feel slightly dirty by. I lent it to my coworker and it was the first and only book we actually discussed (besides the quality of the bodice-ripper I gave her as a joke for Christmas).

I said before that Sharp Objects was fuuuuuucccckkkeeedd up and I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Gone Girl is fuuuuuucccckkkkkeedddd up to the second power. She has another book floating around the book-o-sphere and I might be compelled to read it in the future. But I say that more so because I would never close myself off to reading something. At least now I know that when I feel that draw, I will be reading some seriously disturbing shit. I mean, I knew Gone Girl was going to be similar in disturbing nature as Sharp Objects but now I'm like that puppy who's been bopped one too many times.

The Guy Not Taken: Stories

I decided it had been far too long since I'd read a Jennifer Weiner book and when I found some time in between book club reads, but not enough to start and finish an entire book, I picked up The Guy Not Taken: Stories, a book of short - you guessed it - stories packed with the wit, charm, empathy, and great sense of humor that I've come to expect from Weiner, and why she is one of my favorite authors with Sophie Kinsella (Shopaholic and Baby got me through some very rough bouts of morning sickness. And she had a girl, too!! And, no, I've never seen the movie,. I've seen parts and know the plot and I think their depiction is a complete travesty.).

Weiner expertly walks the line - if one even exists between the two - between chick-lit and what book-snobs would consider respectable literature. Her stories, long or short, deliver laughs, sympathy, drama, romance, and a certain serious nature that results in you pondering long after you've read the acknowledgment (because you know you read every last page). The first few stories, for instance, center around a family that has suddenly split apart and the consequences - good and bad - are revealed. And even if we aren't going through something similar ourselves, we still find ourselves being able to relate in some fashion.

While I don't envision ever being detoured from reading one of Weiner's books, I do have to admit that I enjoyed the book less as I neared the end. I'm not exactly sure what the last story - about an elderly woman taken hostage and forced to vacation by two young teenagers - is trying to convey, it just sort of left me feeling depressed. I found myself surprised at this, but it made me want to get back to reading one of her novels, where I really thinks she really shines (she does write incredibly funny Tweets about The Bachelor and Bachelorette, but because I can't watch live with her and I don't want to spoil it for myself, I avoid her Tweets like the plague).

So I picked up Goodnight Nobody.

Mockingjay

Suzanne Collins' Mockingjay was one of the first books I read this year, and I think I waited so long to review it because I have absolutely no idea where to begin.

To say this series blew me a way is an understatement. And don't even get me started on how it's classified as a YOUNG ADULT series. I mean, seriously?!

I'm ashamed to admit that I actually forgot I hadn't finished the Hunger Games series until something unmemorable triggered my mom-brain memory (as in, I have none), and Mer gasped and said, "You still haven't read that?! I'm bringing my book over right now so you can finish it. The third is absolutely my favorite." And she wasn't wrong; in my book of books, the final installment of the Hunger Games was absolutely the best, most worth the effort, and second easiest to plow through behind the first. Finally, everything I had hoped for in the first and expected in the second, was finally happening in the third.

Completely unaware of the goings-on behind the scenes, Katniss miraculously escapes her second Hunger Games on the side of the "good guys." Or did she...? Peeta has been captured by the Capitol to be used as a pawn in these larger-than-the-Hunger-Games games, and Gale is weird and distant, a far cry from the one person she could count on and trust. Expecting and motivated to hit the front lines of the now-emerged civil war, Katniss' role in the unrest is largely trophy-ish, a symbol used by the rebels to remember what they're fighting for. As the reader, I had hoped for more scenes from the fighting but that doesn't mean everything Katniss was up to wasn't heart-palpitating and breath-taking and, well, game-changing.

Reading this reminded me a lot of what Mer said about Game of Thrones; the good guys are the bad guys, the bad guys are the good guys, and you never know which is which, even as the story nears a dramatic and horrifying end. If nothing else, this story shines a bright light on the inter workings of war, the evil that is at the heart, and the coming together of people who believe they deserve better for themselves. And, if nothing else, provides a clear warning message for our future.

In general, stories of the post-apocalyptic nature provide us with a waning self-assurance of, that will never happen to us/our country/our world. But I firmly believe the Hunger Games provides more of a foreshadowing then we care to admit, taking into account the large consumption of reality TV we can't steer clear of, and the large degree of human suffering we find it easy to turn our heads away from. The way our current media sensationalizes every gruesome crime is the major foundation to our own Hunger Games, I just hope we never start to fear our power-hungry government more than we hate them.

Ask Again Later

It has been several years since I've read one of Jill A. Davis comedic masterpieces, of which I remember laughing out loud in a room full of people with my nose buried in Girls Poker Night. To this day, I can't even tell you what it was about, but certain lines about trying to gain admittance to a mental hospital, and a quick one-liner about suicide with a blow dryer stick out prominently in my brain. I can't tell if it's because I'm older and arguably wiser and less gullible, or if Davis really isn't as funny as I previously thought. And that was long before I ever tried smoking weed.

Ask Again Later is your typical young-woman-trying-to-find-herself chick lit littered with absolutely ridiculous scenarios that make you laugh out loud in that "WTF?!" kind of way. I wouldn't say it was the best book I've ever read - certainly not the funniest and I have yet to read anything by the All Mighty David Sedaris - but it wasn't a complete waste of time, either. It made me appreciate my boring, married-with-children life and made me wonder how necessary it is to have chick-lit in my literary life right now. Like rom-com movies, most romance novels, and porn, once you've seen/read one, you've read/seen 'em all. The random twists Davis peppers throughout the generally hum-drum story definitely keeps you on your toes, though, is much appreciated, and keeps the 240ish paperback pages turning.

Written as if we've secretly picked up a stranger's diary, we're led down a wandering path of a woman who has absolutely no idea what she's doing, where's she's going, or what her basic interests are. It reminds me of Runaway Bride when she has no idea how she prefers her eggs. By the end, we're not really sure if she's figured anything out, just that her life will continue in less of an up-heaved kind of way. So, good for her.

Beyond Belief: My Secret Life Inside Scientology and My Harrowing Escape

From the very first paragraph, nothing more aptly describes Jenna Miscavige Hill’s Beyond Belief:My Secret Life Inside Scientology and My Harrowing Escape than “beyond belief.”

Growing up in the throes of Scientology, first as an outsider then as a full-fledged participant as her parents got more immersed in the “religion,” Hill’s experience was confusing, contemplative, mysterious, and anxiety-ridden all rolled in to one, which, excuse me if I’m wrong, isn’t supposed to be the epitome of religious epicenters as it so claims. As a disclaimer, I warn you my review is biased and largely tainted by my new-found Scientology education and I could very possibly come across hostile and I completely mean to.

Jenna’s life started as most of ours do – school, friends, chores, relatively stable home-life with most of the activities and minutia we civilians – or Wogs as we’re referred to by Scientologists – take for granted. Her grandfather played a prominent role in the founding of Scientology, thereby forcing his son, Jenna’s father, into the organization. Generally against it, Jenna and her siblings began their childhood, like I said, as most do. At some point, however, her father decided Scientology was the way to go and packed up the family to live in what I can only describe as a very underdeveloped compound.

Separated from her family for extended periods of time, only getting to see her parents at most an hour each week, Jenna’s “schooling” consisted of learning via memorization of L. Ron Hubbard’s “teachings,” emotion control, and manual labor to restore “The Ranch,” a California desert expanse of dilapidated buildings that was to one day be a major hub of Scientology.

Predominantly reminding me of a very brief reality show in which kids lived in a replicated old Western town and we got to watch what would happen if the world was left up to children, adults were often absent from The Ranch, but neither adults or fellow children could be trusted. As part of the higher class of the "church," Jenna was constantly scrutinized, monitored, questioned, and even punished for indiscretions she was often completely unaware of.

Hill explained early on the the founders of Scientology learned they could be an organization without religious affiliation and avoid some such tax law, but what the public is actually funding is nothing more than a cult. With no god(s), idols, deities, prayers, ceremonies, or anything involving anything spiritual, how exactly does it fall under the religious umbrella?

Operating on a belief of sort-of reincarnation, Scientology is based largely on the amount of control we have over ourselves and emotions; thus more supernatural than spiritual, as supposed previous lives are thrown into the mix. Scientology is of a fundamentalist nature based largely on the treatment of their members and the lengths they'll go to avoid scandal.

It's a benefit to the book that the baseline story is interesting as the writing would have caused me to put it down barely a third of the way into it. Written accompanied by another author, it is definitely obvious who wrote what.

The content alone is enough to keep you reading. But it's frustrating at times, hard to witness Jenna's treatment then subsequent devotion to to a group who didn't want to keep her but couldn't get rid of her and ultimately didn't know what to do with her. More than one thing will boggle your mind as you have this front-row seat to the largest (at least one of?) government subsidized cult.