Book Review: Emily and Einstein

Emily and Einstein, by Linda Francis Lee

There are many different definitions for the word “dog”. In addition to using it to describe our favorite, loyal, loving canine companions, we also might exclaim “You lucky dog!” when a person shares their good fortune, or scold “You dog!” when hearing news of some scoundrel’s crass behavior. People have been known to “put on the dog”, to behave or dress in an ostentatious or showy manner. The phrase “you wouldn’t treat a dog that way” implies treating a human being much worse than one would an animal. “Gone to the dogs” is what we say when things dissolve into chaos. “A dog’s dinner” implies something bungled or made a mess of, while “a dog’s chance” means no chance at all, “a dog’s life” implies a wretched existence, and “dog eat dog” denotes ruthless competition or self-interest. Then there is “dogging” someone or “dogged” pursuit- to trouble, plague, pursue or follow after like a dog.

Emily and Einstein encompasses all of the above.

Emily Barlow is a book editor. She is also the neat, orderly, four-years-married daughter of feminist Lillian Barlow. As a child, Emily gave herself over to books, particularly those about Eloise and the Plaza hotel, seeking refuge from her mother’s wild parties and many friends, and dreamed of someday living at the Dakota.

Jordan Barlow, Emily’s younger half-sister, follows in her famous feminist mother’s footsteps, seeking to win approval by helping women in South America.

Alexander “Sandy” Portman is the worst representation of the word dog- in more ways than one.

As a human being, Sandy wasn’t initially the clearly unlikeable fellow the reader later discovers him to be. We are introduced to this dog of a man on the eve of his death, mere minutes before it happens. A person more aware, more present in his own life might have opened his eyes to the possibility that the dog Portman encounters during inclement weather on an icy road at first meant to “save” him, or at least prevent him from being hit by the car that caused his demise. As it happens, that same dog was the catalyst of Sandy’s unfortunate accident and resulting limbo. At first, the creature prevents Sandy from stepping into the street, but when the man, intent on his own selfish purposes, merely sidesteps the animal, the dog then becomes the reason the vehicle swerves, killing Sandy instantly.

But we are not rid of him so easily. Sandy, self-absorbed, even in death, manages to bargain his life back- or so he thinks. The reality is Sandy is given the body of a dog, an irony completely lost on him. Fate, it seems, is saying if you behave like a dog when human, you might be sent back as a dog for real. Sandy becomes Einstein in a manner that does great disservice to canines everywhere. If you thought the guy was a jerk as a man, just wait. Einstein is a discredit, a disgrace, a completely ruthless canine- quite possibly the most prideful, ill-behaved male character I have ever read. There is absolutely zero warmth, canine love, or loyalty in this critter- a very big change from the usual girl-meets-dog books. Never has a dog been so undeserving of human love and compassion. Yet Sandy-as-Einstein is sentenced to this canine fate until he can fully comprehend his mistakes as a human, right the wrongs he’s done his loving wife, and help her turn her life around after she loses herself- first in her husband, second in his death.

This book is a struggle: man against himself (and not just Sandy, Emily and Jordan have their own personal demons to face); man (or woman) against man, man against nature and the supernatural. As a reader I alternated between loathing the character of Einstein enough to debate finishing the book, and also found myself unable to put it down. Emily and Einstein is not lighthearted fluff, is not comedy. It’s raw. It’s drama. Each character is coming to terms with who he or she is, despite what a wife, mother, sister, husband or peers demand. Each is forced to confront his or her own shortcomings, come to terms with their dreams and how easily they give them up when things become difficult. Each character balks at life with every turn of the page.

I don’t think I’ve read a more intricate tale. There are so many different representations of “dog”- as a noun, an adverb, adjective, modifier… the author shows great brilliance in her ability to understand and represent each facet as an expression of personal character- strength or weakness. It’s quite fascinating.

And yet our “a domesticated canine mammal” is not “spurious, inferior, or useless”, though he may believe this “dog’s life” he’s living is more of a “dog’s dinner” and that he hasn’t “a dog’s chance” at all. This story is one of dogged denial, and tenacious pursuit. I’ll warn you now, the dog does die in the end, but I think you’ll find that this time there are no tears to shed.

Thanks to Jennifer Casula for our Dog Book Reviews. Jennifer is a group fitness instructor and dog lover.  She lives in Texas with her husband and 3 dogs