The Lives of the Monster dogs
should have been an exceptional novel. It has an intriguing premise
and all the elements required for a gripping plot - dastardly
scientists, loyal and dependable dogs and of course a crusading,
innocent journalist to come to the rescue.
It is a retrospective account of
the dying days of a race of dogs, the result of over 100 years of
experimentation, genetic manipulation and physical alteration.
Fitted with artificial hands and mechanic voice boxes, these dogs
were designed to the perfect foot soldiers - tough, intelligence,
loyal and deadly - but by the time their race has been perfected the
ghoulish man who first conceived of them is long dead and with him
has gone any sense of their purpose or any concept of whom they were
intended to fight. Frustrated, the monster dogs rise up against the
community in which they were bred, massacring their human masters
and, after years of wondering around the North American continent,
descend on an unsuspecting New York with all the grace and elegance
of 19th century Prussian High Society - and fabulous wealth to boot.
Having already been asked to
accept that a village in Canada could exist for over a hundred years
unnoticed by anyone else and that a troupe of 150 or so man-sized
speaking dogs dressed in Victorian costume could, in the early 21st
century, roam through Canada and New England for eight years without
comment, the reader is now asked to believe that the monster dogs
would be accepted by New Yorkers with little more interest or
comment than that which would be generated by the arrival of a
Hollywood B-star. This is, quite frankly, too much. The author's
argument that "hey, all New Yorkers are immigrants anyway and
therefore understand and accept diversity" just isn't convincing.
And this is the real flaw in the novel: while its language and
scenario are rooted in the realism of today, its central premise is
incredible and the reader is given no assistance to suspend
disbelief.
This doesn't undermine the work
entirely. It has a lot of good points. It is a fun and easy read,
always thought-provoking and at times grotesques or moving. The
drawing of the characters of the dogs is masterly, in particular
those of Lydia, a tender and intelligent friend of peace, and Ludwig
who alone seems to struggle to accept his differences. Yet
ultimately, The Lives of the Monster Dogs fails to delivery on the
promise of its premise, in part because of its incredible nature and
in part because it, tantalisingly, fails to exploit fully the
psychological issues it raises. One is left feeling that the author
has squandered an opportunity to write something of real merit and
lasting significance.
