A Fistful of Collars

I have mentioned elsewhere my campaign to boost circulation at my local (coastal) library. Libraries perform such an important public service. And, in my opinion, librarians are — leaving aside the “ssshhh!!” they would send my way when I was a much younger and noisier patron — perhaps the friendliest, most helpful, public servants I have ever met. They deserve our support.

I have my selfish reasons too. During my youth (5-19), I read everywhere and all the time. When I started college I rarely walked across campus from point A to point B without a book held open between my hands. (Come to think of it, my books and I were not too much different from present-day college students and their smartphones. People would even tease me. “Watch where you’re going!”) My public library was my sole source of books in those years so every couple of weeks I would head over to the library, drop off a stack of 10 or 12 read books (whatever happened to be the maximum number of items I had been allowed to borrow), find another 10-12 to read, present my library card, and return home with at least one book already open on my lap. If I happened to be sick and staying at home (a frequent event during those years), I expected my Mom to take my books back to the library and return with new ones. So I can’t imagine a childhood without one or two stacks of library books next to my bed.

Of course, whenever I take the time to visit a library these days, all of this comes back to me. Walking into a library feels like walking into a gift shop where every gift is FREEEE! Somewhere in my head a 14-year-old is exalting, “Is today my birthday? Is all this for me???” And yet, I can’t help feeling overwhelmed these days when I visit a public library. Each shelf is loaded with more gifts than I can possibly open. I also know that if I take even one book home, I’ll be lucky if I can give it more than 20 minutes of my attention each day. And since I’m only on the coast for a couple of days, there’s another hurdle. Will I be able to finish and return my borrowings before they come due? Why didn’t anyone ever warn me that growing up would be so emotionally complicated?

My last visit to the coastal library was typical. I saw a book, A Fistful of Collars, in the Mystery section that featured a beautifully illustrated cover. As I gazed at the cover, I gradually realized that I was looking over the shoulders of a dog and a man sitting side-by-side in a dark movie theater. The image on the movie screen revealed a cowboy, guns strapped to his waist, feet well apart in the open doorway of a saloon. Looking up at the top of the cover, I read, “A Chet and Bernie Mystery”. The bottom assures me that the author, Spencer Quinn, is the “New York Times Bestselling Author of DOG ON IT”. This was getting better and better. A cowboy western, with a dog+man detective team, plus two can’t-miss puns on the front cover. =) I checked the number of pages (309), where this book fell in the Chet and Bernie Mystery series (5th; I hadn’t read any of the others, but the library didn’t have the earlier books), and my calendar (I would be coming back to the coast the following week). Everything fit. I took the book straight to the checkout station.

OK, I’ll say it. If you’ve waded through the last 4 paragraphs, you’re no doubt wondering when the “book review” will begin. Sorry. I don’t do book reviews. I write posts because they help me remember the books I’ve read, the life I’ve led and the life I am leading. I’ll just say this. If you like the idea of a dog and a detective, read this book. Why?

The book is told entirely from the dog’s (Chet’s) point of view. And that’s where the humor comes from. Have I ever mentioned that I like to anthropomorphize everything? I’ll pick up an object (or a dog or cat) and speak the words that I want it to say. I might even respond to what they just said in order to create a conversation, or I might offer a few words of my own as an analysis of the object’s/dog’s/cat’s inner world. We share our world with things that observe, wish to communicate, but have “thoughts” of their own. I felt right at home reading a dog-generated monologue (indeed, he tends to ramble on like a stand-up comedian). Does a dog ever get distracted, have trouble recalling a name or event, or find the idioms that humans rely on impenetrable? You bet. And that just made me love Chet that much more. Here are a few words from early in the book that do absolutely nothing to advance the plot…

“Curiosity killed the cat?” Bernie said. “Never bought into that, myself.”

Then we had something in common; a lot, in fact, and finding more all the time. Once we even howled at the moon together. What a night that was! Too bad about those bikers, of course. Back to the curiosity killing the cat thing. I’d never really understood it, curiosity being a puzzler. But it’s always nice to have a takeaway — that’s one of Bernie’s beliefs – and my takeaway was that curiosity must be a good thing.

p. 76, “A Fistful of Collars” by Spencer Quinn, Atria Books, NY, 2012

Only a few sentences. An aside, really. Do dog storytellers do asides? Of course! I just wish I could have read this aloud to you.

But, not to worry. Chet may be easily distracted, but his job is staying by Bernie’s side, and reporting on everything that happens. He will even tell you who did the dirty deed.