Finally, after several disappointing and not-worth-finishing books in a row, I found a good, fun, quick read. I was starting to think I would never find a good book again. This is a novel told from the perspective of a dog, Mr. Bones. Only the most skilled of writers could pull something like this off, but Paul Auster can. Mr. Bones gets a taste of both extremes of American life, first as the dog of a drunken homeless man and then as the pampered pooch of a well-off suburban family, which renames him Sparky.
In the end, I guess, he prefers the former life of wandering the streets, roaming free. There is a sort of authenticity in that life that he cannot find in suburban America. He finally decides that the comforts of the good life come at too high a cost. But for a while, he is seduced by the ease and luxury. This brilliant passage, I think, is the heart of the book: "It might not have been perfect in this place, but it had a lot to recommend it, and once you got used to the mechanics of the system, it no longer seemed so important that you were tethered to a wire all day. By the time you had been there for two and a half months, you even stopped caring that your name was Sparky."