Dogs have been intertwined with human existence since our earliest days, evolving from opportunistic wolves scavenging near our fires to beloved companions that evoke a profound spectrum of human emotions. This deep connection is explored in The Big New Yorker Book of Dogs, a curated collection that delves into the multifaceted relationship between humans and their canine friends. Far from being a simple collection of heartwarming tales, this anthology, compiled by Malcolm Gladwell, offers a sophisticated and broad perspective, reflecting the esteemed reputation of The New Yorker magazine. The book invites readers to savor its contents, appreciating each piece for its individual merit and the deeper reflections it inspires. It is thoughtfully organized into four distinct sections: “Good Dogs,” “Bad Dogs,” “Top Dogs,” and “Under Dogs.” Each section is thoughtfully introduced by James Thurber, a writer, cartoonist, and editor for The New Yorker, whose lifelong fascination with dogs permeated both his written works and his distinctive drawings.
This collection masterfully blends fiction, poetry, journalism, and creative nonfiction to present a comprehensive panorama of life alongside “man’s best friend.” The roster of contributors reads like a who’s who of celebrated 20th-century literary talent, featuring luminaries such as E.B. White, Ogden Nash, Arthur Miller, Wislawa Szymborska, Ann Sexton, John Updike, and T.C. Boyle. Through their varied voices, readers gain insights into the world of working dogs, understanding the divergence in training methodologies for police dogs and guide dogs. The book also introduces readers to the specialized lexicon of dog enthusiasts, revealing that a beagle’s tail wag might be described as “feathering her stern,” and a bark as “giving voice” or “opening.”
Beyond the nuances of canine communication, the collection sheds light on the enduring perplexity surrounding the study of a dog’s remarkable olfactory capabilities. The articles reveal astonishing feats, such as dogs being able to locate cell phones submerged in buckets of water, highlighting the extraordinary power of their sense of smell.
A well-trained dog possesses the innate qualities of a super-soldier: robust, agile, fierce, and obedient. These animals can achieve incredible feats of athleticism, leaping higher than most humans and running at twice their speed. Their vision is adapted for low-light conditions, their hearing captures supersonic frequencies, and their mouths are equipped to subdue the most challenging prey. However, their most exceptional attribute is undoubtedly their nose. Research from the 1970s indicated that dogs could detect substances at only a few parts per million. By the 1990s, advancements in detection instruments lowered this threshold to parts per billion, and more recent tests have pushed the sensitivity down to parts per trillion. As behavioral scientist Paul Waggoner noted, “It’s a little disheartening, really. I spent a good six years of my life chasing this idea, only to find that it was all about the limitations of my equipment.” (“Beware of the Dogs” by Burkhard Bilger, p. 34).
One particularly engaging article explores the origins of dog domestication, posing the question of whether humans actively captured and bred wolf cubs or if it was the proto-dogs themselves who initiated the association with humans. This inquiry is framed through a father’s personal narrative as he grapples with his daughter’s fervent desire for a Havanese puppy.
The prevailing theory suggests that domestication was not a result of humans capturing wolf cubs, but rather a proactive “breaking and entering” by wolves. In an evolutionary sense, proto-dogs may have communicated to their wolf brethren, “Hey, you be ferocious and eat them when you can catch them. We’ll just do what they like and have them feed us. Dignity? It’s a small price to pay for free food. Check with you in ten thousand years and we’ll see who’s had more kids.” This evolutionary strategy appears to have been highly successful, with an estimated one billion dogs globally compared to only three hundred thousand wild wolves. (“Dog Story” by Adam Gopnik, p. 11).
The collection is further enlivened by a selection of insightful and humorous cartoons. One depicts a dog on a leash speaking to another dog holding its own leash, quipping, “So, how long have you been self-employed?” Another shows a dog at a restaurant table asking the waiter, “Is the homework fresh?”
In “A Note on Thurber’s Dogs,” Adam Gopnik explores how a seemingly simple question can lead to a cascade of deeper inquiries. He posits that for those who care about dogs and The New Yorker, the question “Why did James Thurber always draw dogs?” evolves into more profound considerations such as, “Why do dogs matter for writers?” or even, “What draws writers to any of their strange obsessive subjects?” This, in essence, becomes a way of asking, “What is the way?” (p. 381).
The Big New Yorker Book of Dogs offers a rich tapestry of perspectives, celebrating the profound and often complex relationship between humans and dogs, and inviting readers to reflect on why these animals continue to hold such a significant place in our lives and in our art.
