Right, sit. Stay. Good human. 🐾
Let me be paws-itively clear from the start: this book is a re-tail triumph. Gromit — knitter, baker, twice-awarded marrow grower, and widely-read dog — has finally put paw to paper, and the result is nothing short of a tail-wagging delight. And yes, you read that right. The book is written by a dog. As the opening puts it: "Yes. I'm a dog. And you're reading a book written by a dog. I'll just let you take that in for a minute." Take all the minutes you need. I did. Then I had a biscuit, as instructed.
The premise is a bona fide tale of joy: this was supposed to be Wallace's story, but Wallace is currently standing on the dining table, baffled by a typewriter he's fitted with wheels and a flame-thrower. (Rule Number 3 on the fridge list, apparently. Even dogs know you don't need a flame-thrower for a memoir.) So until the invention situation resolves itself, Gromit steps in and tells us "the tale of what goes on behind my eyes." And a dog this well-read does know where all the bones are buried.
For the dog-lovers in the audience, this is a fur-midable treat. It's a story about loyalty, quiet competence, and doing six impossible things before breakfast while the human stares lovingly at a lump of cheese, which, honestly, most of us canines relate to in spirit. Gromit doesn't need a single line of dialogue; he communicates in sighs, eyebrow raises, and knitted jumpers, and it all lands with the precision of a well-aimed stick. Nick Park's presence as "teller" keeps it perfectly paw-positioned — the wit is dry, the marrows are championship-grade, and the affection for its hero is un-bone-ded*ly sincere.
If I had to sniff out a fault, it's only this: a dog writing a book raises the bar for the rest of us. I've been leaving messages on lampposts for years and never once got an autobiography deal. Slightly un-fur.
Verdict? Five paws out of five. Fetch yourself a copy, curl up by the fire, and give it a good, long read. It's a howling success, and Gromit would like you to know — bury this in your good books pile — that he is a good dog.
(He is. He really, really is.) 🐶 OUT NOW!
