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Narratives told out of chronological order are nothing new. After all, Sophocles wrote Antigone about twelve years before Oedipus Rex. C.S. Lewis' Narnia series was likewise written out of chronological order. So when I learned that David Wroblewski had written Familiaris, a prequel to The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, one of my all-time favorite novels, I couldn't wait to read it, but I was concerned about knowing too much.
Familiaris is the story of Edgar's grandparents John and Mary Sawtelle, the original breeders of what become known as Sawtelle dogs. Like the earlier novel, this one is not only lengthy, but grand in scope. While the first novel was a modern retelling of Hamlet, this one does not seem to have such a direct literary origin.
Wroblewski has assembled a big cast of characters--two childhood friends of John, who come with them to the farm they purchase after becomes across it while waiting on his car too cool off. Their quirks are endearing and surprising. Frank, who lost a leg and arm in the war, is justifiably curmudgeonly. The large and taciturn Elbow discovers his own talent with woodworking, but his charm is his shifting personas--the Man Who Agrees with Everything, the Man Who Questions Everything, and so on.
Throughout the narrative, the author weaves in subplots, the earliest, the man who first tamed wolves; the most significant to the plot, Walter Payne, and Ida, the newborn he discovers in a raging wildfire and takes to raise. The supernatural element of her strange gifts are a small but curious part of the plot.
I knew to anticipate the birth of John and Mary's sons, Gar and Claude, since they are major characters in Edgar's story. Wroblewski's characterization of Claude, in particular, allowed me to be cautiously sympathetic with the boy, despite knowing the role he plays in the future.
Familiaris, above all, is a beautiful love story--John and Mary, naturally, but also their love for the dogs they raise, extending long after sending them to new homes, and from beginning to end, the love under the surface of John, Elbow, and Frank. Wroblewski varies his narrative style from time to time, sometimes almost mythical, sometimes epistolary, but he beautifully captures human nature, particularly the pain of loss.
I suspect I'm going to be re-reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, if only to visit the dog Almondine one more time.
