Rating: 
Summary: Fantastic Book!
Review: The Dogs of Babel is one of those rare books that has everything to offer: a suspenseful story that makes it a pageturner, beautiful writing that engages the mind, wonderful characters... It's all there. I think anyone would love this book. It's certainly the best I've read in a long long time, and I read a lot!
Rating: 
Summary: An elegant , compassionate tale of love and committment...
Review: There is an accident: a young married woman has fallen to her death. A husband is left alone to face this sudden and devastating loss, blindsided by the unexpected depths of his grief. Paul Iverson clings to the only witness of Lexy's last day on earth, their beloved Rhodesian Ridgeback, Lorelei.Driven to find answers, to unravel the mystery of Lexy's fatal plunge, Professor Iverson, a linguist, becomes obsessed with a plan to teach Lorelei to speak, so that she can finally tell him what happened. Requesting a sabbatical, Paul notes the distress and worry on his colleague's faces, but is unconcerned in his quest to obliterate all but his experiment. Gathering random bits of information, he scours the house for clues and makes lists, including one of all the books the couple has owned, anything to make sense of the senseless. He compiles stacks of literature, case studies of experiments where dogs have been surgically altered in an attempt to evoke canine speech. Unfortunately, all such experiments are inhumane and illegal, but Paul has no intention of resorting to such practices. He spends time with Lorelei, patiently "teaching" her the responses he wants. Of course, his experiment is a failure, as the dog is either unwilling or unable to perform. But, like anyone undergoing such a period of mourning, Paul may be forgiven this foolish attempt for emotional relief. Perusing the recent literature on dog-speak, Paul makes a somewhat suspicious contact. Desperate for more information, he attends a meeting of an unsavory group who perform experimental surgeries on dogs, supposedly with some real success. At the gathering of these uber-scientists, Paul is appalled that he could have been led so far astray as to find himself among these despicable men. With the comforting Lorelei beside him, Paul recalls the years of the marriage, the magical moments of Lexy's stunning conceptual artistry, her uniquely crafted masks, the imaginative tales she tells. Lexy loved fairy tales, mysterious phrases, one of her favorite quotes: "Had I known but yesterday/ what I know today/ I'd have taken out your two gray eyes/ and put in eyes of clay/ And had I known but yesterday/ you'd be no more my own/ I'd have taken out your heart of flesh/ and put in one of stone." But there are many kinds of masks, and perhaps Lexy has hidden behind one as sensitive artist/wife. In contrast, there are infrequent, yet unnerving incidents, when Lexy exhibits unaccountable rage, as well as uncontrollable tears that leave her shattered and sobbing. There are stories of Lexy's troubled youth, her teenaged flirtation with suicide, an indication of the true pathology behind her behavior. This is a difficult and emotional journey for Paul, but once begun, he embarks upon a scrupulous evaluation of Lexy's precarious emotional landscape during the years of their marriage. Is there any message, any important detail he has overlooked? Paul's real dilemma: was the fall truly an accident, or did Lexy commit suicide? Parkhurst compassionately describes the early days of Iverson's grief and his impulsive project with Lorelei, her characters sympathetic. The companionable Lorelei is an endearing witness to Paul's struggle. As Paul Iverson navigates this unfamiliar territory with reluctance, his discoveries are touched with quiet grace and forgiveness, acceptance of the human frailties inherent in life. If, in those last days, Lexy has left a message for Paul, it cannot be found hidden among her emotional demons, past or present. Whatever the memories, Lexy's shining legacy to Paul, the message, is her endless capacity for joy and the daily expression of love. Luan Gaines/2003.
Rating:
Summary: Suspend Your Disbelief or Not For Cynics
Review: First off, I am not what you would call a dog lover, that said you don't have to be one to love this book. This story is ultimately a love story and about lost love. It is also about a man's grief and his attempt at escaping that grief in an intellectual way. In the process of reading this we learn of Paul and Lexy his young wife who dies unexpectedly. Without giving away the story, I found that while I could relate to both characters I was particularly drawn to Lexy, the troubled and sensitive artist. In an attempt to do anything to rationally explain his wifes death, Paul's quest leads him to some rather irrational if not bizarre means of doing so. However along the way this takes us through the heartbreaking story of their meeting and falling in love and life together; one that is unusual and yet familiar. This in the end will lead him to some truths he has perhaps known all along and others he has forgotten. Your heart will ache for both of these people. In the end I found myself caring for and missing someone I had never known. It is truly good that someone can write something that make you feel so much.
Rating: 
Summary: Interesting premise, but...
Review: The interesting premise of "The Dogs of Babel" was what attracted me to the book: can Paul Iverson teach his dog, the only witness to his wife Lexy's death after a fall from a tree, to speak so that the grieving husband can discover what happened? Once the story unfolds, however, the original story line goes astray with a series of flashbacks that explore Lexy's personality and her relationship with Paul. Ultimately it is Paul's own memories of Lexy that uncover the truth. Not only does the "teach the family dog to speak" action fizzle out, but there are some unbelievable and downright silly subplots that detract from the beauty of the storytelling. These include Paul's brief association with a disturbing and fanatical group of dog abusers, Lexy's rearrangement of the books on the shelves to convey a cryptic "message", and Paul's conversations with telephone psychics. As we learn more about Lexy herself, she is revealed to be a very disturbed woman with a penchant for impulsive actions and violent behavior, and I did not find her to be a sympathetic character. Nor could I understand what made Paul tick, since many of his actions often seemed irrational and out of character. On the positive side, the book is well written and it does have some good points. It contains interesting symbolism about masks, as is highlighted on the front cover. There are insightful comments on relationships, love, and loss. Lexy's fanciful side, including her square egg machine and her philosophy on food and dating, provides some light moments in a predominantly melancholy story. All in all, however, I found the book disappointing.
Rating:
Summary: Like whistling past a cemetary ...
Review: This book dares to take us into the land of things we'd rather pretend were not so. Just like whistling past a cemetary doesn't diminish it's dark truths, neither can 'wishing make it so' when it comes to whisking away the untidily dark truths hidden in the Souls of the people we love.
Lexy, who we meet through the memories of her widowed husband Paul, attempts to tell stories through the masks she creates. Fun masks, happy masks, light-hearted masks. It is only when she is commissioned to do the death mask of a young girl, a suicide victim, that we begin to see the poignant depth of the stories she is trying to tell.
The book's pace is (purposely?) light and roving, and yet there is a faint, sinister cloy to the air, like passing by a funeral home and the smell of rotted carnations. It's not uncomfortable though, it's sweet and thick and enveloping - it's just that we, the reader, the lover, the spouse, aren't really ready to go in there just quite yet. We'd rather stay out here in the breezy sun, under bright blue skies festooned with billowy clouds. Out here in broad daylight, where we still have some strength against shadows.
Or is that strength too merely an illusion? Yet another mask we awkwardly wear? This book tells the journey, in a hypnotic wash of light to dark and back again of the drainingly meticulous work involved in the peeling away these masks - others' as well as our own.
Rating:
Summary: More sincerity awaits than the title implies
Review: I picked up this book because its main character is a male (like me) who teaches college linguistics (as do I) and owns a dog (like mine). How many chances will I get to read a novel in which the main character could easily be me? I thought I would be in for a quirky character or two and an original plot that would combine humor with some ponderings on language and the gaps between people, topped off with some late-night musings about the minds of dogs (à la Mousaieff-Mason's "Dogs Never Lie About Love"). The Dogs of Babel delivers on all these expectations, but then goes on to explore them more deeply and poignantly than I could have thought possible. The resulting story is one of love, loss, the desperation we feel when we can't communicate (remember: Babel is in the title), and the evil that we are capable of when we decide we must communicate at all costs. Of course, it helps to be a dog-lover, or else many of the novel's preoccupations might just seem silly. To tell any more would be to spoil it. Perhaps one of the most amazing things about the novel is that it unfolds from a male perspective that is absolutely convincing, and that is a rare feat for a female author.
Rating:
Summary: Excellent
Review: Very thought provoking, interesting topic. Some parts were a bit grotesque, but there's a bit of mystery and romance woven in.
Rating:
Summary: Rare intensity and emotionally provoking
Review: I don't usually post reviews, but after reading this book, and after reading many of the reviews here, felt compelled to post a review.
I feel rather strongly many have missed the essence of the book.
Lexy is a character with huge intensity, something I relate intimately with. It is reflected in the success of her career, where success is measured by happy clients and work satisfaction. It is reflected in her capacity to love. Those who are loved by her such as Paul will have experienced a love so rare and so intense that that in itself gives meaning to life.
The intensity comes at a price. Such things which seem relatively unimportant or even trivial can affect such people so deeply that cumulatively it can cause thoughts of suicide from time to time. Therapy is often not the answer either, because you can't change other people or the world, and it's such things that make life itself not worth living. Lexy's motives are different though - she wanted to protect those she loved and felt she was best able to do so by removing herself. There is certainly credit to thinking that if one cannot be a good parent one should not be a parent.
Many things come to mind too - perhaps she felt she was in a cycle where she carried the same emotional baggage passed from generation to generation, and it was time to break it. Personally, as a parent with similar intensity and thoughts of suicide, I believe that my being aware of my cycle I am able to break it with my wife's support. If I felt I couldn't, maybe things would be different for me also. But even now, I understand the pain of living with suicidal thoughts without being clinically or even often depressed.
I feel the bizarre inclusion of the dog and related events are to illustrate an important point. Paul, loved as he has never been loved before, left alone with no answers, is compelled to go to extraordinary and bizarre lengths to find answers. Love has been known to have such effects on people so I am not sure I would criticise this area too harshly. The psychic hotline is a similar theme - both Lexy and Paul for different reasons were desperate and sought unconventional help.
The book as a whole is written with an openness and intensity that I have never seen elsewhere. It is not without its "flaws", but I feel in so much as nothing is perfect, they are relatively insignificant to the power of the book. It is only at the very end that we understand Lexy's motives and find answers to the puzzle - and in so doing, feel her pain.
People are all different - and I hope that those similar to Lexy feel the courage to stay on. These people may even spread deep and meaningful happiness to those whose paths they cross. And I hope those who can't imagine such intensity to at least understand that the world is one everyone shares, and callous actions may affect others in ways never actually intended.
Rating: 
Summary: Awful
Review: Please...don't buy this book. Save your money. I read this book because I am a dog lover. I thought there might be something sympathetic in the story, but there is nothing. This is an awful book...all about a woman who is manically depressed, but no one recognizes it. I can't begin to comprehend why the Today Show would recommend this book as a highlight of its book club. The author must have a very powerful agent. I highly respect Little Brown as a publisher, but I can't imagine why they wasted paper for this story.
Rating:
Summary: Wonderfully Evocative Writing, Marred by Impositions of Plot
Review: Carolyn Parkhurst has a wonderful way of evoking scenes from the merest whispers of words. This may be by necessity, as the novel is framed as alternating chapters of approximately five pages each in which she follows her character Paul Iverson through flashbacks of his life with his wife, Lexy, and the sad present that finds Paul piecing together the mystery of how and why Lexy died. The brisk pacing and Parkhurst's faculty for creating vignettes that your mind fleshes out make this a quick and not altogether unsatisfying read.
Lexy's character is certainly the most compelling, not the least because of her having died in the opening sentence. Lexy is complex in the most satisfying way, both laughter and sorrow, sunshine and darkness. Her appeal drives the novel, and we as readers wnat to know more about her. We, like Paul, want to unravel the mystery not only of her death, but of Lexy herself.
Unfortunately, Paul himself seems more alive (and believeable) in the flashbacks with Lexy. Alone with their dog, Lorelei, in the absence of Lexy, Paul is not just a figure of grief, but a character who seems too much an inhabitant of the page. That is, the flashbacks seem to be a part of a world, a fictive reality where we believe the characters continue on after we stop reading about them. But the Paul of the present seems too much a writer's sketch, and the second half of the book is fraught with worse sins of writing.
The passages about Wendell Hollis and the Cerberus Society are very nearly unreadable, and don't bear explanation here. The psychic, Lady Arabelle, is likewise an uncomfortable and ill-considered plot device. Not only do these two plot "twists" defy the reality Parkhurst so carefully crafted earlier in the novel, they threaten to highjack our interest in the story altogether. That they do not is perhaps partly due to the fact that we keep getting a glimpse of the past, of Lexy, and we forgive the author her indiscretions to work our way to the end with Paul.
The end, ultimately, does not redeem these clunky plot contrivances, but it does offer a beautiful summation of Parkhurst's talents as author. The final paragraph is wondrous, and pulls together the the colorful metaphors of Lexy in a jewel of a moment.
I wish Ms. Parkhurst would eschew the too obvious: Paul, a linguist, is married to Lexy (punning of the Greek "lexikos," pertaining to words, as well as the library of Alexandria of antiquity); Lorelei, the siren of Germanic myth, is the mute witness of Lexy's death that Paul is obsessed with; Lexy's rearrangement of books, we know well in advance, will be some sort of code; even the apple tree itself, with overtones of Eden.
The idea that Lexy fell from an apple tree at once sets the reader on notice that he must put aside credulity to a certain degree; this is both liberating for the author and a dangerous high-wire act to attempt. Likewise, the idea that Lorelei might "speak" to Paul is a trail of breadcrumbs that could lead to some dark woods. But the reader can embrace those parameters. Had the novel not over-reached its plot in the second half, this could have been a 4- or 5-star book. Paul's life as an academic, too, seems stitched-on, as if to compensate for his never having been as well sketched as Lexy.
But I can forgive the author these shortcomings. There is enough in Lexy, and in Parkhurst's evocation of her with a wink of fable, to make me hope her second novel does not fall prety to the sophomore slump, but rather reverses it. She has a powerful sense of human inter-relation, but drifts when her characters are alone. But most tellingly are those moments when this novel does sing, as it does in the second chapter when Parkhurst evokes the Homeric muse to write: "I sing of a woman with ink on her hands and pictures hidden beneath her hair." Parkhurst's gift is that she can sing, when she is not foisting chunks of plot upon us that feel like they belong in forgettable novels rather than flashes of a brilliant other world.
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