Scripps Howard: “Upon being seen, Trenta said, ‘It’s my dog,’ and, ‘What’s the problem?’ The male dog ran and hid behind the deputies, according to a report released Tuesday.”
Questions for Class:
1. To what extent is Trenta’s statement true? Is there in fact no problem here? Or does Trenta’s statement represent a cavalier attitude about ethical responsibility? Consider the people throughout history who have uttered two sentences similar to “It’s my dog. What’s the problem?” and discuss their moral capacity at length.
2. Does a pet, by way of being owned, waive his right to consensual relations? What if the situation had been reversed and Trenta had been the one getting pounded by his Argentine Dogo puppy? If the puppy had been capable of speech and uttered, “It’s my human. What’s the problem?” would you react with similar strains of horror?
3. Why did reporter Gabriel Margasak use the phrases “mixed-breed dog” and “a Mexican citizen working as a laborer” in the first four paragraphs? Is there a racist element to this allegedly objective story?
4. Humane Society spokeswoman Roberta Synal notes that the dog will “get lots of love and training.” Is there anything in the story to suggest that Trenta did not give him “lots of love and training?” Is his indiscretion, in fact, a form of “love and training” or the product of a troubled mind?
5. Will Trenta be allowed to own a pet again? Or will he be placed on a list of pet offenders kept in the Martin County Sheriff’s Office?
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
Seeing a quiz about a man’s relationship with a dog brings fond memories of “The Deathbird.”
Actually, I was more inspired by “The Basic Eight.” But I suppose Ellison works too.