Events Calendar
In This Section
Mya is 3 points from perfect at 'Dancing' finale
TV exercise personality Paige Palmer didn't let age stop her
Overnight star Susan Boyle focus of TV special
Rihanna's CD is decent, but uneven
Taylor Swift named favorite artist
Ohioan puts spin on old vinyl Christmas records
Review: You've never seen 'Sound of Music' like this
Most Read Stories
2 men shot during party in Fairlawn
Cancellation of Christmas not an option
Akron man killed in crash on his street
Several people hurt in Akron crash
Victim of beating in Kent last week is declared dead at Akron hospital
Akron Children's Hospital CEO, wife announce $1 million gift to support research
Police: Pennsylvania man killed misbehaving puppy before Steelers game
Akron Circle K store robbed for second time this month
KSU suspends basketball player
Police accuse bank robbery suspect of gobbling up note (with dashcam video)
Blogs:
Pets:
A Dog Named Christmas – Pet for the Holidays
The Heldenfiles:
Viewing Notes
Patrick McManamon:
Of pass interference and alleged "fake" injuries
Akron Zips:
No. 1 Akron to play Stanford next
Tribe Matters:
Seven players added to Tribe’s 40-man roster
Cleveland Browns:
Audio: Mangini disputes Poteat call, accuses Lions of faking injuries
Kent State Sports:
Flashes travel to Florida Atlantic
Cleveland Cavaliers:
Gameblog: Cavs vs. Philadelphia 76ers
Buckeye Blogging:
Buckeye Football – Present and Future
Varsity Letters:
Gulley to visit Central Michigan in December
All Da King's Men:
The Onion, By Any Other Name…
Blog of Mass Destruction:
Glaring Contradictions
Akron Law Café:
Don't Try to Have Fun if you are Depressed
See Jane Style:
Vintage Chic
Car Chase:
What Automotive Thing Are You Thankful For?
Let's Talk Real Estate:
Faye Dunaway to be Evicted?
Ohio Travels with Betty:
Monique asks how to get tickets for the Polar Express.
Sound Check:
Steely Dan Plays "The Royal Scam" at E.J. Thomas Hall
HRLite House:
Personal Rant – Why I am Glad I live in NEO
Akron Gamer:
Nintendo's Mario endures even as games come and go
By Janet Maslin
New York Times
POSTED: 10:25 a.m. EDT, Jul 07, 2008
Janet Maslin
New York Times
''This will be his earliest memory,'' The Story of Edgar Sawtelle says about its title character. ''Red light, morning light. High ceiling canted overhead. Lazy click of toenails on wood. Between the honey-colored slats of the crib a whiskery muzzle slides forward until its cheeks pull back and a row of dainty front teeth bare themselves in a ridiculous grin.''
That's a good way for a boy to meet a dog. It's an even better way to get acquainted with the most enchanting debut novel of the summer. Written over a decade by the heretofore unknown David Wroblewski, this is a great, big, mesmerizing read, audaciously envisioned as classic Americana. Absent the few dates and pop-cultural references that place the book somewhere in the post-Eisenhower 20th century, its unmannered style, emotional heft and sweeping ambition would keep it timeless.
Wroblewski happens to have borrowed, here and there, from Rudyard Kipling, William Shakespeare, Richard Russo, Stephen King and the 1934 dog-breeding book Working Dogs. And he writes as if he grew up in a library well-stocked with great novels of the prairie. But the voice heard in The Story of Edgar Sawtelle sounds like no one else's as this book creates its enthralling, warmly idiosyncratic story.
The narrative is of course centered on Edgar, a boy who reminds himself of Kipling's Mowgli (from The Jungle Book) in his uncanny ability to communicate with dogs. Dog breeding is the family avocation. In the Sawtelles' remote Wisconsin kennel, ''they had photographs of every dog they'd ever raised but none of themselves.''
Wroblewski puts Edgar on a cozy, paw-boxing basis with the dogs by rendering the boy mute from birth. Although Edgar's condition is a terrible liability at certain plot junctures, it is more often a blessing. Edgar speaks his own private sign language to people and dogs alike. He has no trouble making himself understood to his loved ones, whether they have two legs or four.
And Wroblewski has a deft, natural way of conveying Edgar's relationship to language. Edgar speaks as clearly as any of the book's other human characters do, but his dialogue is presented without quotation marks. Within the household, Edgar is by far the easiest person to understand.
That's because Wroblewski gives this family the Hamlet treatment, in general terms. Edgar adores his mother, Trudy, and resents his long-lost uncle, Claude. When an unhappy fate befalls Edgar's father, Gar, the suspicions of this now 14-year-old boy are aroused. Trouble ensues. But The Story of Edgar Sawtelle is by no means Hamlet with hounds. This book's brief encounters with prophecy and the supernatural have as much to do with King's Maine as they do with Shakespeare's Denmark.
In a coming-of-age book that pays rapt attention to the power of communication, there are things that Edgar at first simply cannot understand. His parents are beguiling but mysterious. (The only answer Edgar can get to the question of how they met is: ''In a good way. You'd only be disappointed in the details.'')
The family's philosophy of dog breeding is another thing Edgar takes time to fathom. But it is indeed a system of belief, first introduced by Edgar's grandfather. This expansive book has plenty of room for multiple generations. One of the great pleasures of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle is its free-roaming, unhurried progress, enlivened by the author's inability to write anything but guilelessly captivating prose.
One of Wroblewski's most impressive accomplishments here is to exert a strong, seemingly effortless gravitational pull. The reader who has no interest in dogs, boys or Oedipal conflicts of the north woods of Wisconsin will nonetheless find these things irresistible. Pick up this book and expect to feel very, very reluctant to put it down.
Whether it is capturing every nuance of puppy behavior (''when she ran a finger along his belly fur he squirmed to keep sight of her eyes''), following Edgar through the dictionary as he picks names for his first litter (''Essay,'' ''Pout,'' ''Tinder,'' ''Opal,'' ''Umbra'') or delivering long sections of narrative that Wroblewski himself has named intriguingly (''Three Griefs,'' ''What Hands Do''), this rich and hefty book never flags.
Its voice is so natural and unfettered, so free of metaphor or other baggage, that even the simplest moments can have extraordinary grace. After a long but gripping passage during which Edgar and three dogs wander through the wilderness, even their discovery of canned food in a cabin can seem like a great wonder. ''Like a magician performing sleight-of-hand,'' Wroblewski writes of the starving Edgar, ''he began working the opener over a can of pork and beans.'' He conveys every bit of Edgar's sudden elation.
The radiant early stages of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle are more languid than the heightened drama in which this story must culminate. But even when he more openly manipulates his characters, this fine new author (who, in another life, has a career developing software) invests their actions with intense emotion. When the dogs make a home for themselves in a new place, they do it with heart and soul.
''As they worked, they put the sky in place above, the trees in the ground,'' the book says, describing one of Edgar's training sessions. ''They invented color and air and scent and gravity.'' And in a touch that is by no means unexpected, once Wroblewski's world has been entered and embraced, this book's saddest farewell ends a profound man-dog relationship. Not even Hamlet could have imagined the strength of their loyalty or the depths of their sorrow.
Janet Maslin
New York Times
''This will be his earliest memory,'' The Story of Edgar Sawtelle says about its title character. ''Red light, morning light. High ceiling canted overhead. Lazy click of toenails on wood. Between the honey-colored slats of the crib a whiskery muzzle slides forward until its cheeks pull back and a row of dainty front teeth bare themselves in a ridiculous grin.''
That's a good way for a boy to meet a dog. It's an even better way to get acquainted with the most enchanting debut novel of the summer. Written over a decade by the heretofore unknown David Wroblewski, this is a great, big, mesmerizing read, audaciously envisioned as classic Americana. Absent the few dates and pop-cultural references that place the book somewhere in the post-Eisenhower 20th century, its unmannered style, emotional heft and sweeping ambition would keep it timeless.
Wroblewski happens to have borrowed, here and there, from Rudyard Kipling, William Shakespeare, Richard Russo, Stephen King and the 1934 dog-breeding book Working Dogs. And he writes as if he grew up in a library well-stocked with great novels of the prairie. But the voice heard in The Story of Edgar Sawtelle sounds like no one else's as this book creates its enthralling, warmly idiosyncratic story.
The narrative is of course centered on Edgar, a boy who reminds himself of Kipling's Mowgli (from The Jungle Book) in his uncanny ability to communicate with dogs. Dog breeding is the family avocation. In the Sawtelles' remote Wisconsin kennel, ''they had photographs of every dog they'd ever raised but none of themselves.''
Wroblewski puts Edgar on a cozy, paw-boxing basis with the dogs by rendering the boy mute from birth. Although Edgar's condition is a terrible liability at certain plot junctures, it is more often a blessing. Edgar speaks his own private sign language to people and dogs alike. He has no trouble making himself understood to his loved ones, whether they have two legs or four.
And Wroblewski has a deft, natural way of conveying Edgar's relationship to language. Edgar speaks as clearly as any of the book's other human characters do, but his dialogue is presented without quotation marks. Within the household, Edgar is by far the easiest person to understand.
That's because Wroblewski gives this family the Hamlet treatment, in general terms. Edgar adores his mother, Trudy, and resents his long-lost uncle, Claude. When an unhappy fate befalls Edgar's father, Gar, the suspicions of this now 14-year-old boy are aroused. Trouble ensues. But The Story of Edgar Sawtelle is by no means Hamlet with hounds. This book's brief encounters with prophecy and the supernatural have as much to do with King's Maine as they do with Shakespeare's Denmark.
In a coming-of-age book that pays rapt attention to the power of communication, there are things that Edgar at first simply cannot understand. His parents are beguiling but mysterious. (The only answer Edgar can get to the question of how they met is: ''In a good way. You'd only be disappointed in the details.'')
The family's philosophy of dog breeding is another thing Edgar takes time to fathom. But it is indeed a system of belief, first introduced by Edgar's grandfather. This expansive book has plenty of room for multiple generations. One of the great pleasures of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle is its free-roaming, unhurried progress, enlivened by the author's inability to write anything but guilelessly captivating prose.
One of Wroblewski's most impressive accomplishments here is to exert a strong, seemingly effortless gravitational pull. The reader who has no interest in dogs, boys or Oedipal conflicts of the north woods of Wisconsin will nonetheless find these things irresistible. Pick up this book and expect to feel very, very reluctant to put it down.
Whether it is capturing every nuance of puppy behavior (''when she ran a finger along his belly fur he squirmed to keep sight of her eyes''), following Edgar through the dictionary as he picks names for his first litter (''Essay,'' ''Pout,'' ''Tinder,'' ''Opal,'' ''Umbra'') or delivering long sections of narrative that Wroblewski himself has named intriguingly (''Three Griefs,'' ''What Hands Do''), this rich and hefty book never flags.
Its voice is so natural and unfettered, so free of metaphor or other baggage, that even the simplest moments can have extraordinary grace. After a long but gripping passage during which Edgar and three dogs wander through the wilderness, even their discovery of canned food in a cabin can seem like a great wonder. ''Like a magician performing sleight-of-hand,'' Wroblewski writes of the starving Edgar, ''he began working the opener over a can of pork and beans.'' He conveys every bit of Edgar's sudden elation.
The radiant early stages of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle are more languid than the heightened drama in which this story must culminate. But even when he more openly manipulates his characters, this fine new author (who, in another life, has a career developing software) invests their actions with intense emotion. When the dogs make a home for themselves in a new place, they do it with heart and soul.
''As they worked, they put the sky in place above, the trees in the ground,'' the book says, describing one of Edgar's training sessions. ''They invented color and air and scent and gravity.'' And in a touch that is by no means unexpected, once Wroblewski's world has been entered and embraced, this book's saddest farewell ends a profound man-dog relationship. Not even Hamlet could have imagined the strength of their loyalty or the depths of their sorrow.
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