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A review by owlette
We Think the World of You by J.R. Ackerley
5.0
[edited for clarity 2022-04-25]
I loved this book, which says more about me than the book and not in a good light.
Much of the story in the first half of the book takes place in the parlor of his lover's mother's, Millie's, home. While the narrator is a middle-aged, single bureaucrat, the rest of the characters featured in this book are working class. I admit that the privileged, bougie bitch inside me made it easy to relate to the narrator's disgust at Millie's house and even chuckle at his acerbic remarks ("Is it because the working classes fill our prisons with thieves like Johnny that they in particular seem so often to suppose that their own miserable property requires protection? (62)").
But unlike the narrator, I do not like dogs. In real life, I would find Evie's behavior and temperament obnoxious. So it's a testament to J.R. Ackerley's writing when I say that my favorite moments in the book were all about Evie. These passages are full of intimate imageries most likely inspired by Ackerley's observation of his own Alsatian german shepherd. Take for instance this moment when the narrator first meets Evie:
I love that description about the sunlight seeping through the thin ears. It's one of those images that you've seen before in real life but could be difficult to put into words. Later, there is a detailed study of Evie's face:
It's as if the author is drawing a still life of Evie except in words.
Lastly, I want to commend whoever at the New York Book Review wrote the back cover blurb. Misleading descriptions are more common than you’d think, and I have been bitten more than once by blurbs written by misleading blurbs. Fortunately, that is not the case with this edition of We Think the World of You. Just read this sentence for instance:
What a wonderful phrase, "guardian of one's inner world"! This is the phrase that intrigued me and thought about when I finished the book. I did not expect a book about a dog to have a dark, happy ending. 5 out of 5 stars, one of the best fictions I’ve read this year.
I loved this book, which says more about me than the book and not in a good light.
Much of the story in the first half of the book takes place in the parlor of his lover's mother's, Millie's, home. While the narrator is a middle-aged, single bureaucrat, the rest of the characters featured in this book are working class. I admit that the privileged, bougie bitch inside me made it easy to relate to the narrator's disgust at Millie's house and even chuckle at his acerbic remarks ("Is it because the working classes fill our prisons with thieves like Johnny that they in particular seem so often to suppose that their own miserable property requires protection? (62)").
But unlike the narrator, I do not like dogs. In real life, I would find Evie's behavior and temperament obnoxious. So it's a testament to J.R. Ackerley's writing when I say that my favorite moments in the book were all about Evie. These passages are full of intimate imageries most likely inspired by Ackerley's observation of his own Alsatian german shepherd. Take for instance this moment when the narrator first meets Evie:
"Its light gray vulpine head was long and sharp, and surmounted by extraordinarily tall ears. The winter sun sinking behind shone through the delicate tissue of these remarkable erections, turning them shell-pink (32)."
I love that description about the sunlight seeping through the thin ears. It's one of those images that you've seen before in real life but could be difficult to put into words. Later, there is a detailed study of Evie's face:
"... perhaps her ducking in the river had exposed detail which coal-dust had hitherto obscured; the black caste mark was diamond-shaped still, but deep shadows had now developed upon either side of it, stretching across her brow, so that in certain lights the diamond looked like the body of a bird with its wings spread, a bird in flight. These dark markings on her chalky-face--the diamond with its wing-like stains, the oblique black-rimmed eyes with the small jet eyebrow tufts set like accents above them, the long sooty lips--symmetrically divided it up into zones of delicate pastel colors, like a stained-glass window. The skull, bisected by a thread, was two oval pools of the palest honey, the center of her face was stone gray, her cheeks were silvery white and upon each a patte de mouche had been tastefully set. Framed in its soft white ruff, this strange face with its heavily leaded features and the occasional expression of sadness imparted to it by some slight movement of the brows, was the face of a clown, a clown by Rouault (99)."
It's as if the author is drawing a still life of Evie except in words.
Lastly, I want to commend whoever at the New York Book Review wrote the back cover blurb. Misleading descriptions are more common than you’d think, and I have been bitten more than once by blurbs written by misleading blurbs. Fortunately, that is not the case with this edition of We Think the World of You. Just read this sentence for instance:
"And it is [Evie], in the end, who becomes the improbable and undeniable guardian of Frank's inner world."
What a wonderful phrase, "guardian of one's inner world"! This is the phrase that intrigued me and thought about when I finished the book. I did not expect a book about a dog to have a dark, happy ending. 5 out of 5 stars, one of the best fictions I’ve read this year.