The Hand That Feeds You, and The Hand That...

Books We Carry in Our Spirit.

Billy and I sat on the filthy ward floor, so close together that our shoulders touched. We took turns rolling up slices of meat and slipping them through the bars for both dogs. We tried to help them savor it by holding one end of the treat, forcing them to taste before swallowing. When we had emptied the bag of roast beef and ham and chips, we fed them the Scottish shortbread…

About a month back I read a novel, The Hand That Feeds You, by A.J. Rich. The author’s name is a combination of three writers, really: Amy Hempel, Jill Ciment and Katherine Russell Rich, who passed away in 2012. Hempel and Ciment joined forces to create a tribute and a thriller.

It’s often said, in so many ways, that literature grants insight into the human condition, the human spirit, man’s inhumanity to man, man against nature, man against man and the rest of it—but the animal spirit deserves its due, too, and it’s right there—right here, with us—and it’s the dogs from this novel that I’ve carried with me, as I walk the world…

I’m always down for questions about how we treat animals, wild and domestic.

Amy Hempel’s love of dogs is laced throughout her writing, in this collaborative novel as well as in her solo work. I love the way she conveys the human-animal connection, just as much as I love her sentences about everything and anything at all.

In an amazing interview in the Chicago Tribune, she says:

When you have a child, your dog becomes your pet. That would not happen to me. I can't stand the sound of a person eating, but I love the sound of a dog crunching down on kibble. I love a dog's appetite. The appetite of a baby is a frightening thing to me. I watch a mother spoon food into her baby's mouth, then spoon back in what the baby spits out; to me, it is the job of spackling. If I had a baby, I would change overnight from a woman who worries about the calories in the glue of an envelope to someone who goes to the corner for coffee, a nightgown showing beneath my coat, the hem of that gown clawed to shreds by a cat.

Ha! The calories…in the glue…of an envelope…?

(As an aside…Details like that? Wow. That’s when I feel the wide gulf between, say, Portland and L.A or New York…Which is also the gulf between Sex and the City and Clown Girl…Here, we love food. And big shoes! But who still uses envelopes?)

Whew! Ha! Anyway.

The Hand That Feeds You takes place at the intersection of dating and pit bull rescue, asking: Where is the real danger?

Yesterday, we took our dog in to see a new veterinarian, in a newly built complex at the local Humane Society. We may have been the very first clients. We arrived just after the formal ribbon cutting ceremony.

It’s in an industrial area, next to machine shops and large equipment storage or rental or who knows what, a place of wide highways, broken windows and industrial vehicles, but the particular plot of land has been made beautiful with curving sidewalks, new bark dust, rows of trees and fresh cement, and artwork, including interesting stone pillars for every dog to take a piss on the way in (ours did and was perhaps…the first ! Let’s grant him the title.) It’s a place built with heart and wisdom, to stop suffering, and to keep animals with their owners regardless of income bracket, to keep animals healthy.

From the parking lot, we passed an Animal Crimes Forensics Center.

Animal Crimes?

I wondered briefly if they meant crimes committed by animals or against animals. Or, perhaps there’s room for a third category, which is all too common: animals who have witnessed violence against their owner.

It turns out, the forensics unit is dedicated to stopping animal abuse, focused on investigating allegations of animal cruelty. A Humane Society representative told us it is the first of its kind on the West Coast. Then there was a Behavioral center, for re-training and supporting feral animals, abandoned animals, angry and lost and maltreated creatures. God, I wish them all so much luck.

As I walked through the new complex of buildings, I thought about lines from the novel.

Billlie took out a key ring and unlocked the door to Ward 4A, where the Dangerous Dogs were kept. In this ward, on each kennel card affixed to the top of a cage were the red-inked words CAUTION—SEVERE. This was their temperament rating. On the concrete wall facing the row of cages were thick steel rings hanging from exposed screws—tie-outs that these strong dogs had pulled clean out of the wall. Propped against the wall in one corner was a catchpole, next to the industrial, coiled black hose.”

I love books that shape our vision of the world by speaking back, speaking up. The Hand That Feeds You is a page-turner, a thriller, a quick read, but it also has something to say and a lot of gorgeous lines coupled with a solid handful of swift jokes.

What books do you think of, as you navigate your day?

Hope you’re doing well. How are your animal friends? How is your writing? What are you reading?

I appreciate your support, so much.

Onward,

M

ps—I said it before, and I’ll say it again (maybe) SIGN UP FOR SUNDAY’S ON-LINE GENERATIVE WRITING WORKSHOP! :)

If you want to.

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