One of the most regrettable aspects of the transition from childhood to adulthood is the loss
of whimsy in literature. Think about it. Children, who are by and large happy,
get to read books about talking animals. Adults, who are by and large unhappy,
get to read books about dressing for success. Coincidence? No.
Fortunately, Peter Mayle has tunneled under the fence of depressing adult
literature. A Dog’s Life (Random House, $11 paper) is the celebrity
memoir of “Boy,” the Proven�al pooch of dubious ancestry who came to
live with Peter Mayle and his wife.
As Boy might inform us, life is what you make of it. Born to the large family
of an unprepared single mother, his route in life was anything but assured. In
a fit of nocturnal hunger, he once tried to eat his brother’s ear. Striking out
on his own after an unfortunate hunting experience (followed by an unfortunate
kicking experience), Boy experienced some lean times on his way to becoming
head of the Mayle household. Despite their friendly demeanor, it appears few
merchants are pleased to have an unaccompanied dog on the premises, no matter
how innocent his intentions.
As with his best-selling A Year in Proven�e and Toujours
Proven�e, Mayle takes us to his enviable life in rural France. And
as with his other bestsellers, the bulk of the book is Mayle’s observations on
the French (human) condition. But rather than observing France as a displaced
Englishman (as in his Proven�e series) Mayle here give’s us the… er,
dog’s eye view.
And what a view! Despite his lack of formal education, Boy holds profound
philosophical views. From his observations on chickens — “that happy
combination of sport and nourishment” — to reasons why dogs so often take up
with humans (“our most convenient support system”) and his own identification
with Proust, our Boy has a lot to say.
And though it may seem a pat analysis, A Dog’s Life is that rarity in
adult literature, a happy book. A real treat. The paws that refreshes.
— Anna Hanks
This article appears in February 28 • 1997 and February 28 • 1997 (Cover).