Hij rent, en hij rent, en hij rent.

This was amazing and beautiful and so, so hard to read. Not the writing, that was flawless. But again, the story and the pain of the protagonist just made me squirm and almost itch with discomfort. Poor bastard. I gotta read something a bit fluffy now and give my psyche a break. ( )

“My sadness isn’t a way I feel but a thing trapped inside the walls of my flesh, like a smog. It takes the sheen off everything. It rolls the world in soot. It saps the power from my limbs and presses my back into a stoop.”

This is the story of a man and his dog, but unlike many animal-related novels, it is also dark and sad. It is told in present tense in four parts, one per season. The man and dog are outcasts. They have had bad experiences. The man lives alone in a run-down house near the sea. After a traumatic event, they embark on a journey.

The dialogue consists of the man talking to the dog, telling the dog of his life. The reader gradually gains an understanding of the man’s sorrow and anger.

“Now I glance at the side of my own face in the mirror’s foreground, and I wonder have we grown to resemble one another, as we’re supposed to. On the outside, we are still as black and gnarled as nature made us. But on the inside, I feel different somehow. I feel animalised. Now there’s a wildness inside me that kicked off with you.”

The writing is lyrical. The tone is bleak. I would not recommend it for anyone suffering from depression. I admire the writing style and plan to read more of Baume’s work.
( )

I always felt I was not part of this strange cruel world, that I was not part of the strange cruel human race. I identify with the Animals and the plants of this Earth more than with anything else. But I don't have a hunchback and while I have mental illness, I have intelligence. A man who is shunned by society and has developmental delay adopts a one-eyed dog, probably a victim of cruelty. The dog becomes his whole life and, when OneEye bites another dog, a woman sics the Animal Control Officer on him. To save OneEye, he leaves his house, and with no one to advocate for him, or look out for him, he spirals down and down. The saddest book ever, and yet the most beautiful book, ever. ( )

This novel tells the story of Ray, a older middle aged man who has lived alone his entire life. As he describes himself, he is something of an ogre--large, intimidating, ugly. He lives alone in his father's house, his father having recently died when the novel begins. Ray sees a poster for dog adoption at a nearby shelter and he sees a poster of badly wounded mutt with only one eye--what will become the dog's name, One Eye--and Ray seemingly uncharacteristically adopts One Eye. Ray is emotionally galvanized by this change in his life, all his years of loneliness and shame suddenly funnelled into his relationship with One Eye. Meanwhile, One Eye himself is constant conflict and crisis with his nature, for he was raised to fight badgers (apparently a bloodsport in Ireland and the UK), which is how he lost his eye amongst other wounds. The bond between man and dog tighten and when they are threatened, Ray takes them on the road.

This is a very interesting novel with some beautiful passages--truly, at times the writing is quite poetic; it is tactile, fanciful, imaginative, and inventive in its language, particularly in the descriptions of nature (plants, bugs, animals).

My only issue with this book was the narrative voice. It is written from Ray's perspective with an indirect narrative. Given all we come to learn and know about Ray, the voice of the narrator at times seems too sophisticated or too cynical. He portrays himself as quite helpless and indeed we suspect at times his mental state is not good. Those aspects of his life and personality ring true, but there is a discordancy for me at times between the voice and the character. It's possible the author is suggesting there is more depth and complexity to the character than meets the eye, but I don't she achieves that through the narrative. It's his personal ruminations and repetitions that convey that vulnerability. ( )