Publisher's Weekly Review
It's a terrific high concept: a woman falls from a backyard tree and dies; the only witness is the family dog, a Rhodesian Ridgeback. To find out what happened-accident? suicide?-her grieving husband tries to teach the dog to talk. Parkhurst's debut novel has been getting a lot of pre-pub attention (see PW's First Fiction feature, Jan. 27), probably mostly for this concept, because the execution of this first novel is flawed. The tantalizing prospect of linguistics professor Paul Iverson attempting to teach Lorelei to talk is given short, and erratically plotted, shrift. Paul's narration oscillates between his present-day experiences and the backstory of his romance with Lexy Ransome, a mask maker. The two meet when Paul drops by Lexy's yard sale, buys a device for shaping hard-boiled eggs into squares, then returns with a bunch of square eggs ("And we stood there smiling, with the plate between us, the egg-cubes glowing palely in the growing dark"). This incident, a maxi-combo of cute and sentimental, defines much of the couple's love story (on their first date, Lexy whisks them off to DisneyWorld), marking much of this novel as a sentimental, manipulative romance not unlike James Patterson's Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas; some readers will adore it, while others will gag even as the pages darken toward tragedy. Few will relish the sketchy account of Paul's work with the dog, which goes nowhere until it veers, bizarrely and unbelievably, toward an underground group performing illegal surgical experiments on dogs. Parkhurst is a fluid stylist, and there are memorable moments here, as well as some terrific characters (particularly the enigmatic Lexy), but one gets the sense of an author trying to stuff every notion she's ever had into her first book, with less than splendid results. Simultaneous Time Warner audio. (June 16) Forecast: Chosen as a BOMC main selection, and with the Little, Brown marketing machine behind it, Parkhurst's novel will sell, though bestsellerdom may be hard won. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Kirkus Review
A workmanlike, confusedly titled debut about the death of a morbid young wife. Paul Iverson, a regular-guy linguistics prof at a mid-Atlantic university, receives the news that his wife of several years, Lexy, has fallen to her death from a backyard apple tree. Only her beloved dog Lorelei, a Rhodesian Ridgeback, has witnessed the fall and the last hours of her life, and Paul, grieving and numb, embarks on the professionally estranging work of trying to get Lorelei to tell (literally) what she knows. Oddities emerge--like the fact that Lexy cooked and fed the dog a steak and rearranged the bookshelves before she climbed and fell--suggesting that Lexy, a maker of festive masks from clay, paper, and varnish, had an ulterior motive in climbing the tree. In his disembodied depression, Paul researches possibilities of language acquisition in dogs and even contacts an imprisoned canine mutilator convicted of conducting surgery on dogs to reshape their palates for talking. When Paul attends a meeting of the Cerberus Society, the story turns really bizarre, but only briefly: Parkhurst adheres to the gradual, fairly tedious unraveling of Paul and Lexy's courtship and married life. The lack of detail about Lexy's past is covered by her charmingly erratic behavior as a newlywed--the playful thespian masks she fashions for weddings and plays transforming into death masks. But there's an underlying fissure in this conflicted first novel, the misdirected title a clue: it's a simple love story without the gumption to go in more unsettling directions à la Patrick McGrath. The highlight isn't the couple's first date at Disney World, but the kitschy TV medium Lady Arabelle's tarot card reading of Lexy's last night alive. Paul is an emotionally bumbling Everyman no one can dislike, simply desiring a stable home and family, while his wife's coreless irresolution seems without substance and ultimately merely irritating. A compelling idea fizzles out into anticlimactic detail. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
Paul Iverson, a linguistics professor, calls his wife, Lexy, at home one ordinary afternoon, only to learn from a police officer that she has fallen from a tree in their backyard and broken her neck. Only their dog, Lorelei, witnessed Lexy's death, and in his grief Paul decides he's going to teach Lorelei to talk, so she can tell him whether Lexy fell accidentally from the tree or on purpose. Paul delves into the somewhat dubious field of canine linguistics, even going so far as to get in touch with a scientist jailed for animal cruelty for his experiments with dogs. His skeptical colleagues try to get him to come back to work, but Paul's research consumes him entirely. Interspersed with Paul's quest is the story of his courtship of and marriage to Lexy, a beautiful, insecure artist who makes extraordinary masks. The brilliance of Parkhurst's novel lies in the subtle buildup of emotion as Paul digs deeper and deeper to discover the truth about the woman he loved, who may have worn a mask even when with him. The beauty of the novel lies in how powerfully that emotional wave hits the reader. An unforgettable debut. --Kristine Huntley
Library Journal Review
When Paul Iverson discovers that his wife has died in a fall from a tree, he does something unusual. Suspecting that her death was not an accident-there are odd clues, like the reshuffled books on the shelf-he uses his training as a linguist to try to teach their dog, Lorelei, to talk so that he can reconstruct Lexy's last hours. As Paul slips into ever more desperate behavior, we hear an account of his and Lexy's courtship and marriage-the tender, tentative union of two damaged people. But then Paul contacts a man convicted of operating on dogs to install vocal chords, and what had been a poignant, affecting tale turns truly frightening (dog lovers, beware). And then it is over; Paul learns that there are some things you should never do, even for love, and turns the memory of Lexy into a gift. Parkhurst delivers a remarkable debut in quiet, authoritative prose. It's especially noteworthy that Paul's crusade does not seem preposterous and that while the author offers an affecting message, her characters don't seem like message bearers but distinctive, lively individuals you might like to know. Highly recommended. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 2/15/03.]-Barbara Hoffert, "Library Journal" (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
