hc.newton
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Teachings of Shirelle About?
I’m just going to go with what’s on the author’s site:
“Relish the day. If you’re not in awe, you’re just not paying attention.”
She hadn’t even been in the crowded pound a week, but she’d already developed a nickname, “Knucklehead.” As a puppy she destroyed property and precious clothes; as an adult she injured her owner, ruined romances… and changed the world-views of those around her.
Have you ever watched an animal and wondered how it thinks, how it sees the world, how it views you? And have you ever wondered what wisdom you might learn if you could see things as that animal does?
This unique book is many things: an amusing and moving memoir about a memorable dog, a poetic ode to a human-animal connection, and a serious philosophical, psychological, and spiritual inquiry into the lessons a man gleaned from the simple-minded brilliance of a teacher, a lover, a liver of life to the fullest… a Knucklehead.
That penultimate sentence is demonstrably false, but the rest of that gives you a pretty good idea of what to expect from this book.
The Good
Douglas Green truly loved his knuckleheaded canine companion. That is incredibly clear. She was frequently a goof, that’s clear, and brought a lot of joy and laughter to Green’s life and to those with whom she interacted (mostly).
The parts of the book that were just stories about Shirelle were great and brought several smiles to my face (and I expect the same will be true for many readers). They’re relatable, they’re fun, they might make you chuckle.
I really appreciated moments like where Green tried to describe things like the joy Shirelle (and just about every dog) expresses when their person returns home. And he’s right—why don’t we have the same kind of joy for each other? (we could probably express it without the jumping). Many—maybe even most—of the lessons he takes from Shirelle are similarly well-written, well worth the time, and showed the a smilar kind of thinking.
I couldn’t help but think about Dave Barry and David Rosenfelt’s lessons from their dogs during this time.
Even the parts about Shirelle’s medical struggles—that eventually ended—and what Green went through to get her the care she needed were rewarding reading (although by the time we got to that part, a lot of the book fell into what I talk about in the next couple of sections). Her making it through so much was great to see, even as you feel bad that she had to go through it.
The Meh
I’m going to lump in just about everything that Green puts about his biography, his various jobs, his love life, and his professional and semi-professional pursuits here. I didn’t pick up this book to read about Douglas Green, his career in film or stage—or his move into psychotherapy.
When Green wrote about Shirelle in conjunction with this, that really helped—she’s why people come to the book after all. Shirelle as an unofficial and untrained therapy dog is the kind of thing readers want to see.
The Bad
The metaphysical claims that Green makes, the philosophy he espouses, and things along those lines were tiresome, not well conveyed, and typically interfered with the book as a whole. Your results may vary, obviously, but if I want to read about manifesting or things of that nature—I’ll go grab Rhonda Byrne’s book, not a book about a ridiculous dog.
I’m not entirely sure that those parts of the book were all that internally coherent—I mentally checked out during most of those parts of the book for both of our sakes. That way I wasn’t miserable and I wouldn’t end up going on an extended diatribe about them. I’m on the verge of that now, however, so I’m going to shut up.
Well, after this one additional note. If you’re going to appeal to a term from Christianity (or any other religion) to buttress your point, you should maybe do a quick web search to make sure it means what you think it means. Hint: Christ’s “Passion” doesn’t come close to contemporary usage of “passion,” no matter their etymological link. It’s hard to take someone seriously when they do that.
So, what did I think about The Teachings of Shirelle?
I don’t think that Green and I would get along in person (I’d be glad to be given the opportunity to discover otherwise, and the drinks would be on me). I don’t think we’d actively dislike each other, but we’d just rub each other the wrong way. Until we started telling stories about the silly balls of fur, energy, and devotion that we share our lives with. Then, I think we’d find some great common ground and probably enjoy the conversation.
I bring that up because I think this book works for me along the same lines. When it’s about Shirelle as the animal companion that makes people laugh and/or feel good in other ways, I think the book is at its strongest and most appealing. I’m down for that kind of thing anytime and Green handles it well.
When the book strays from that, it loses me—and the further it strays, the less I care about it and the more I’m going to find things to quibble with.
Are you going to agree with me? I don’t know. Are you going to think I’m out to lunch and really jibe with Green and everything he has to say? It’s possible.
Either way, if you’re a dog-lover—or if you’re someone who enjoys reading about dogs. You’ll probably be glad you gave this a shot, I am (generally).
Disclaimer: I was provided a copy of this ARC by the author in return for my honest opinion, which he may be rethinking now.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
---
What’s The Teachings of Shirelle About?
I’m just going to go with what’s on the author’s site:
“Relish the day. If you’re not in awe, you’re just not paying attention.”
She hadn’t even been in the crowded pound a week, but she’d already developed a nickname, “Knucklehead.” As a puppy she destroyed property and precious clothes; as an adult she injured her owner, ruined romances… and changed the world-views of those around her.
Have you ever watched an animal and wondered how it thinks, how it sees the world, how it views you? And have you ever wondered what wisdom you might learn if you could see things as that animal does?
This unique book is many things: an amusing and moving memoir about a memorable dog, a poetic ode to a human-animal connection, and a serious philosophical, psychological, and spiritual inquiry into the lessons a man gleaned from the simple-minded brilliance of a teacher, a lover, a liver of life to the fullest… a Knucklehead.
That penultimate sentence is demonstrably false, but the rest of that gives you a pretty good idea of what to expect from this book.
The Good
Douglas Green truly loved his knuckleheaded canine companion. That is incredibly clear. She was frequently a goof, that’s clear, and brought a lot of joy and laughter to Green’s life and to those with whom she interacted (mostly).
The parts of the book that were just stories about Shirelle were great and brought several smiles to my face (and I expect the same will be true for many readers). They’re relatable, they’re fun, they might make you chuckle.
I really appreciated moments like where Green tried to describe things like the joy Shirelle (and just about every dog) expresses when their person returns home. And he’s right—why don’t we have the same kind of joy for each other? (we could probably express it without the jumping). Many—maybe even most—of the lessons he takes from Shirelle are similarly well-written, well worth the time, and showed the a smilar kind of thinking.
I couldn’t help but think about Dave Barry and David Rosenfelt’s lessons from their dogs during this time.
Even the parts about Shirelle’s medical struggles—that eventually ended—and what Green went through to get her the care she needed were rewarding reading (although by the time we got to that part, a lot of the book fell into what I talk about in the next couple of sections). Her making it through so much was great to see, even as you feel bad that she had to go through it.
The Meh
I’m going to lump in just about everything that Green puts about his biography, his various jobs, his love life, and his professional and semi-professional pursuits here. I didn’t pick up this book to read about Douglas Green, his career in film or stage—or his move into psychotherapy.
When Green wrote about Shirelle in conjunction with this, that really helped—she’s why people come to the book after all. Shirelle as an unofficial and untrained therapy dog is the kind of thing readers want to see.
The Bad
The metaphysical claims that Green makes, the philosophy he espouses, and things along those lines were tiresome, not well conveyed, and typically interfered with the book as a whole. Your results may vary, obviously, but if I want to read about manifesting or things of that nature—I’ll go grab Rhonda Byrne’s book, not a book about a ridiculous dog.
I’m not entirely sure that those parts of the book were all that internally coherent—I mentally checked out during most of those parts of the book for both of our sakes. That way I wasn’t miserable and I wouldn’t end up going on an extended diatribe about them. I’m on the verge of that now, however, so I’m going to shut up.
Well, after this one additional note. If you’re going to appeal to a term from Christianity (or any other religion) to buttress your point, you should maybe do a quick web search to make sure it means what you think it means. Hint: Christ’s “Passion” doesn’t come close to contemporary usage of “passion,” no matter their etymological link. It’s hard to take someone seriously when they do that.
So, what did I think about The Teachings of Shirelle?
I don’t think that Green and I would get along in person (I’d be glad to be given the opportunity to discover otherwise, and the drinks would be on me). I don’t think we’d actively dislike each other, but we’d just rub each other the wrong way. Until we started telling stories about the silly balls of fur, energy, and devotion that we share our lives with. Then, I think we’d find some great common ground and probably enjoy the conversation.
I bring that up because I think this book works for me along the same lines. When it’s about Shirelle as the animal companion that makes people laugh and/or feel good in other ways, I think the book is at its strongest and most appealing. I’m down for that kind of thing anytime and Green handles it well.
When the book strays from that, it loses me—and the further it strays, the less I care about it and the more I’m going to find things to quibble with.
Are you going to agree with me? I don’t know. Are you going to think I’m out to lunch and really jibe with Green and everything he has to say? It’s possible.
Either way, if you’re a dog-lover—or if you’re someone who enjoys reading about dogs. You’ll probably be glad you gave this a shot, I am (generally).
Disclaimer: I was provided a copy of this ARC by the author in return for my honest opinion, which he may be rethinking now.