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There are a ridiculous number of books on dog training and in my neurotic quest to get it right with my puppy, I’ve read most of them, to my own detriment. There are dog listeners, dog whisperers and dog channelers; all of them claim to know the one right way to train your dog. There are those who sit on their dogs, those who blitz them with “leadership signals” (whatever these are), those who believe you shouldn’t greet your dog when you get home, and those who think you should eat a cracker before serving your dog its food, just to show him whose boss. Consequently, my head is brimming with conflicting facts and theories, ideology and philosophy. It’s giving me a migraine.
The major fare that each of these authors (I’ll purposefully leave them unnamed, though you know who they are) is selling is that they have the GOSPEL - the holy word of dog. In order that to find nirvana with your canine friend (to mix religious metaphors) you have to follow their way and no other.
Sometimes in a split-second, implusive decision you can pick up a book that is exactly what you are supposed to be reading at the very moment in your life. Sometimes you find a book that you are ready to listen to, even though you wouldn’t normally be open to what it has to say to you. You don’t, as usual, ignore the importance of the messages it contains. You find the book just when you can use it most.
For me, now is that sometime.
Families are something we all struggle with, not matter how “good” or “bad” our upbringing and current situation. There are conflicts and tensions so tightly interwoven with our psyches that some never know what are their own ideas and what is their reaciton to their family. Creating our own families is likely the only thing scarier than dealing with the ones we already have. Particularly if we feel insufficiently prepared, as most of us do.
Delving into these issues, this book addresses the question what is family? And not surprisingly it does not give any answers.
The ability of children’s literature to handle the “hard topics” is often underestimated. Sometimes authors are criticised for pandering to children; they are accused of telling kids that the world is a good place where the bad guy always loses. Embarrassingly my return to YA fiction in my adulthood was for this very reason. Mostly it has been about nostalgic memories and a yearning for simpler stories. As I creep farther and farther in adult society, children’s stories address a need for clear cut lines and black and white outcomes.
If only it were that simple. That I am misremembering is becoming increasingly clear. Books like Bridge to Terabithia, Where the Red Fern Grows, Charlotte’s Web, and Tuck Everlasting are simple? Clearly not. They delve deeply into the basic questions of life: death, love, family and loss. I’m finding that most YA fiction written today follows the example of these classics. In fact these days authors more often come under heavy fire for treating kids as they should - as intelligent beings able to deal with complex issues.
