More Like Animal Dreams, Please

Barbara Kingsolver knows how to write. She describes people, places, things, and feelings in such a way - in only a few words - that they get under your skin, and you understand all you need to know about them. The language she uses isn't lengthy or flowery; it's overwhelmingly beautiful in its simple perfection.

While many writers can say a lot in a few words, what sets Kingsolver apart is how expertly she uses those few words to tell a story; even her descriptions move the action forward. Consider the expedient, but unrushed unfolding of Animal Dreams:

about the place, Grace, AZ: [p. 40]

people here spent their childhoods tearing through the homes of their future in-laws

about the shy doctor, the boyfriend left behind: [p. 41]

He could face new flesh wounds each day at work, but he avoided actual people.

about going home: [p.69]

My father, the only real candidate for center of my universe, was content to sail his private sea and leave me on my own. I still held that against him. I hadn't thought before about how self-sufficiency could turn on your in old age or sickness. The captain was going down with his ship. It became possible for me to go back to Grace.

The main character and narrator of Animal Dreams is Codi, a self-described educated vagabond. Codi returns to her childhood home to check on her father, who may or may not be dying. I'm afraid to review the plot further, for fear I'd make the book sound like "just" another can't-go-home-again story, and that would be ridiculous.

In fact, for the most part, Animal Dreams is about going home, and within its pages, Kingsolver (once again) proves that a good storyteller can make even the oldest stories worth hearing again.