Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Book Review: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

I know that I've seen a good movie when I notice a temporary change in my thoughts. This effect usually only lasts a day or so, but during that time I see things in the context of the movie's characters, themes and tone. I felt the exact same way after reading this book by Mark Haddon.

Christopher, the protagonist in this mystery, is clearly autistic. Interestingly, though, the word "autistic" does not appear in the novel even once. Christopher's narrative is a bare-bones account of the facts, devoid of any description or feeling (though rich in math and physics). As Christopher investigates the murder of a local dog, a larger story - concerning his family and neighbors - begins to unfurl.

Christopher's way of thinking - at times comical and at times poignant - makes for quick page-turning. The style drew me in right away and I finished the book in about two sittings. But the beauty of the book doesn't lie in its plot.

To me, this is a book about emotions. Christopher's mind cannot understand emotions; it is a machine of rational thinking. He draws out decision trees in his head. He makes lists. He has a perfect, photographic memory from which he can recall nearly anything. But he doesn't like people and doesn't like being touched.

His parents, on the other hands, are emotional train wrecks. Their lives are consumed with feelings of love, anger, jealousy, rejection and self-righteousness. Their emotions often lead to pain and self-destruction.

I think that is what makes the book so beautiful. Although Christopher's inability to interact with society is tragic on the surface, his calculating and objective mind is a welcome haven from a storm of emotionally charged mayhem. His fascination with the world and the things in it remind us that there is more to life than melodrama.

1 comment:

ilan said...

In the same vein - it's one of the best examples of the phenomenon of the reader "knowing better" than the first-person narrator. We read the book and know what he's talking about, simultaneously realizing that he doesn't understand the world around him as well as we do.

And then it delivers the second half of the one-two punch, and flips that on its head, leaving us wondering if we really do know better. If we really know anything as well as we think.