Duncan Barlow's A Dog Between Us: A Book Review

As I mentioned in a previous post, I am making an effort to purchase books from small presses and then reviewing them. I’m a small press author, and I think it important for writers to financially support the presses that may eventually showcase their work.

I will admit, after reading John Guzlowski’s Little Altar Boy, Madeline Miller’s Achille’s Song (admittedly, not a small press book, and hence no review), and Chris Geier’s Silt, it took me a number of pages to orient myself in Duncan’s Barlow’s A Dog Between Us. While the first three were strong on plot, Barlow’s book isn’t nearly as plot-driven. To be fair, more of a plot kicked in near the end of the book, and I believe this was deliberate on the author’s part to demonstrate character arc. The last quarter of the book reminded me of Saul Bellow’s Henderson, the Rain King… in the best way.

A Dog Between Us centers around a death, a relationship, and a main character trying to find his bearings in world through which he flounders… and his floundering is all the more pronounced since his father’s passing. After about 20 pages, the book had me, and I was fully invested in Crag’s (the protagonist’s) story.

I’m 50 years old, and within the last 12 years I’ve lost both of my parents to cancer. I remember the visits to the hospital, the tubes, the indignities for the patient… the wondering if I was truly a good son. Like the main character in A Dog Between Us, I also lived a distance from my dying parents. Fortunately, my brother and sister lived in the same town as my parents but, like Crag, I had to navigate the guilt of being far away during that difficult time.

Barlow beautifully and heartbreakingly captures the experience of watching and then having a parent pass. I recall sitting at my father’s side, not wanting to leave the hospital for fear he would die before I returned. I remember, though he couldn’t hear me, singing to him “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” Sometimes his hand squeezed mine, so maybe he could hear me. I remember the medications, weighing side effects against my father’s comfort. I remember being angry with doctors and nurses who seemed indifferent, but also I remember the nurses that, through their compassion, made the experience almost bearable.

All of this and more is captured in Barlow’s book. In one scene, as Crag and his siblings discuss whether to continue with their father’s treatment, Crag tells everyone to leave the room. He asks his father if he wants to live:

“I sat in a chair beside my father. I pulled his hand into mine. I kissed it. I stroked it softly. The medical tape crinkled beneath my thumb. He looked at me. His eyes were wild. He opened his mouth in a child-like smile. His dentures were out. I told him that I loved him. I asked him if he knew that. He nodded. This gave me hope. I looked him in his eyes. I asked a question I’d never imagined I’d ask; do you want to die? He mouthed something round. Squeeze my hand, I said, if you want to go to hospice. He did not. Squeeze my hand if you want to fight and live. He squeezed my hand.”

A few passages later, Barlow seemingly sums up the entire experience of watching a parent fight death.

“Soon after, everyone left. I sat in the dim room with my father, and watched his chest rise and fall, again. The movements were much slighter. He was on the precipice between this world and the next. I would not stop watching. I would will it to continue. This is what it is to care, I told myself. We sit by our loved ones and will breath into them. We reseal the door between worlds. We cast furtive glances at the shadowy corners to ensure no family spirits call to them. We eat candy bars from vending machines for dinner and drink cola. We lose track of days and nights and sleep upright. We learn to ignore the clamor of machines and read books in the near-dark.”

So many beautiful and tender passages in this novel. The narrative moves seamlessly between the past and the present. Crag, like any of us, struggles with his relationships, his sense of purpose, and his longing to have something truly feel right and stable. The story also follows Crag’s relationship with Emma… an old and long-time flame. She has her own tragic tale, and Crag is left wondering what part he might have played in it.

The end of the book, the last quarter, is really quite stunning. I really can’t say more than that other than to say it is transformative for both Crag and the reader.

Compared to the other works of fiction I’ve been reading, A Dog Between Us, was a slow burn, but it was the burn it needed to be. Just like some recipes call for a boil and some for a simmer, Barlow knew exactly what he was cooking in his pages and set the heat accordingly.

The end result? Delicious writing.

Purchase A Dog Between Us: here

Jeff Vande Zande is an English professor at Delta College in Michigan. His latest collection, The Neighborhood Division: Stories, is now out through Whistling Shade Press and available: here.