Washington Post Book Reviews
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Saturday October 16, 2010
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THE LOST DOGS: Michael Vick's Dogs and Their Tale of Rescue and Redemption
Jim Gorant
Gotham
ISBN 978-1-592-40550-3
287 pages
$26
Reviewed by Mark Caro
The Michael Vick dogfighting case raised many vexing questions about the collision of human and animal natures: What causes someone to find entertainment value in dogs fighting and maiming one another? What would drive such a person to kill the losers in ways that verge on torture? Is animal cruelty a product of an already troubled life, or is mistreating animals a steppingstone to violence and other criminal behavior? Why are so many people more disturbed by an NFL quarterback's involvement in dogfighting than by other players' implication in people-on-people crimes such as sexual assault, murder and assorted shootings and beatings?
Jim Gorant's "The Lost Dogs" is not the place to seek discussion of these questions. As the repetition of "dogs" in the title and subtitle indicates, this Sports Illustrated senior editor's primary interest lies in the animals themselves. That's not to say that there aren't plenty of people in Gorant's book -- a scorecard would have come in handy -- but almost all of these folks share a desire to save the majority of the 51 pit bulls found chained to car axles or tucked away in dark kennels on the then-Atlanta Falcons star's Virginia property.
That's no small task. Even top officials at the Humane Society of the United States and People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals recommended that these presumably aggressive dogs be destroyed. But most of the pit bulls proved to be gentle, if often traumatized, animals that apparently suffered more from secondhand trauma -- being aware of the brutality taking place -- than from actual combat. "Only a handful were seasoned fighters," Gorant writes, "and many were just young goofy pooches that had led a life of deprivation."
The first section, "Rescue," spends most of its almost 100 pages chronicling the efforts of animal-friendly law enforcers to ensure that Vick didn't walk in this potentially precedent-setting case. Gorant implies that commonwealth attorney Gerald Poindexter dragged his feet due to reluctance to prosecute a local African-American celebrity, thus setting the stage for a turf battle that resulted in the U.S. attorney's office taking over the investigation. The legal wrangling isn't exactly at a John Grisham level of intrigue, the case less a matter of interpreting complex clues than collecting evidence (i.e., digging up dead dogs and interviewing witnesses) to prove what investigators (and readers) already know.
With little dramatic tension to work with here, Gorant fattens up the narrative with dogs' point-of-view observations, superfluous details (is a deputy sheriff sipping Miller Lite from a mug really worth mentioning twice?) and the occasional snippet of bad-movie dialogue. ("Mike, it's Jim Knorr. We have a situation.") Similar padding is apparent in the book's subsequent two sections, "Reclamation" and "Redemption," which focus on the dogs' journeys from kennels to sanctuaries and foster-care centers.
A dynamic repeats itself: Shy or petrified or quirky dog ultimately warms up to caretaker's entreaties to become a worthy companion, perhaps even passing the Canine Good Citizen exam. Gorant pumps up the stakes by stressing the case's importance as a potential attitude-changer; it could "disprove the public's basic beliefs about the breed," "help change people's minds about pit bulls," "tell the other side of the pit bull story," "show the world what this breed is all about," etc. Gorant ends one chapter: "The truth, in the end, is that each dog, like each person, is an individual. If the Vick dogs proved nothing else to the world, this would be a significant advance." Wild guess: People who don't think dogs are individuals probably aren't reading this book.
In his Dec. 29, 2008, Sports Illustrated article, which tells the basic story with more compression and pop, Gorant asked, "Was it worth the time and effort to save these 47 (remaining) dogs when millions languish in shelters?" Yet he has no one in his book pushing this provocative point or providing any forceful counterpoint to the massive allocation of resources (funded by Vick) on behalf of these dogs. "The Lost Dogs" lacks not only a true antagonist (aside from Poindexter, briefly) but antagonism altogether; there's no clash of ideas to fuel drama and to trigger thought. That's not to say that Gorant's dogs and rescue workers aren't inspirational -- they are -- or that the writer doesn't paint the occasional funny-cute picture (one dog "looked like a scrappy street kid in a cow suit"), but his narrow approach leaves "The Lost Dogs" feeling more like pit bull advocacy than dynamic storytelling. By the end of the 21-page "Where Are They Now?" epilogue covering each of the dogs, it's the reader who's in danger of being put to sleep.
Mark Caro is the author of "The Foie Gras Wars" and a Chicago Tribune entertainment reporter.
Copyright 2010 Washington Post Writers Group
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SARAH: The Life of Sarah Bernhardt
Robert Gottlieb
Yale Univ
ISBN 978 90 300 14127 6
233 pages
$25
Reviewed by Stephen Lowman
You know the celebrities who star in sex tapes to help launch their careers? Or the ones we talk endlessly about whenever they scandalize the nation with a "wardrobe malfunction" or with grainy photos of coke being snorted? They look shy next to the French stage icon Sarah Bernhardt. Adored by both the public and critics alike, Bernhardt was France's leading actress throughout the late 19th century.
A brief rundown of her most flagrant habits must include: wearing a stuffed bat on her head; traveling around Europe and the Americas with an animal menagerie that included a cheetah, lion cub, alligator and seven chameleons; transforming Paris' premier theater into a military hospital during the Franco-Prussian War; a "lifelong habit of automatically sleeping with her leading men" and probably also Victor Hugo, the Prince of Wales and Emperor Louis-Napoleon; a fondness for snoozing in a coffin she kept with her.
Bernhardt began life as "an unwanted and unloved child" who never knew her father and was treated with scorn by her mother. As an adult, she devoted herself to earning the admiration and affection of her country and the world. Word of her arrival in American cities, from New York to Denver to Grand Rapids, often received breathless coverage by the press.
"Sarah," part of Yale's Jewish Lives series, is a smart and sprightly biography. Robert Gottlieb shows how Bernhardt nurtured celebrity with her outlandish style and exaggerated, even made-up entirely, stories about herself. There was also tremendous talent. Her most famous role was Hamlet. True to her own character, Bernhardt gave the audience the opposite of a conflicted, languishing prince. Her Hamlet is determined. "All his philosophizing and temporary hesitation does not alter the basis of his character," she said. "His resolution swerves, but immediately returns to the channel he has marked for it. I know this view is heterodox, but I maintain it. It is just as well to have a decided opinion of one's own, and adhere to it."
Stephen Lowman can be reached at lowmans(at symbol)washpost.com.
Copyright 2010 Washington Post Writers Group
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