Charles Portis: The Dog of the South

[Bubba]

Here the opening lines of The Dog of the South (1979), Charles Portis's third novel:


My wife Norma had run off with Guy Dupree and I was waiting around for the credit card billings to come in so I could see where they had gone. I was biding my time. This was October. They had taken my car and my Texaco card and my American Express card. Dupree had also taken from the bedroom closet my good raincoat and a shotgun and perhaps some other articles. It was just like him to pick the .410--a boy's first gun. I suppose he thought it wouldn't kick much, that it would kill or at least rip up the flesh in a satisfying way without making a lot of noise or giving much of a jolt to his sloping monkey shoulder. For my part, I like the "at least rip up the flesh in a satisfying way" bit.

The novel goes on to recount Ray Midge?s search for his Torino and his wife. It has him going to Mexico and what was then British Honduras. On my first reading, I thought the section in British Honduras, when Midge and his partner Dr. Reo Symes are no longer on the road, bogged down a little. On later readings I realized that this section is as good as any of the others, and that some moments?on a used-car lot outside Belize City, for instance?are of an extraordinary comic genius.

The Dog of the South was out of print for almost twenty years?during which time other American writers, whose names I don't want to recall and many of whose books don?t work nearly as well as Portis?s, were widely celebrated?but not long ago new editions of all Portis?s excellent work were brought out, to modest acclaim, and they remain in print.

Ah, and another thing I like about The Dog is the epigraph, which, in reality, could have worked for any of Portis's books:


...Even Animals near the Classis of plants seem to have the most restlesse motions. The Summer-worm of ponds and plashes makes a long waving motion; the hair-worm seldome lies still. He that would behold a very anomalous motion, may observe it in the Tortile and tiring stroaks of Gnatworms.
--Sir Thomas Browne

[saliotthomas]

Great to see some enthusiame for something Bubba, i have this one on my hard drive in Marrakech, i'll read it first thing when i come back.
Sound good.

[lionel]

Here the opening lines of The Dog of the South (1979), Charles Portis's third novel:

For my part, I like the "at least rip up the flesh in a satisfying way" bit.

I can't say that I agree in any way at all with your enthusiam for these words, Bubba, but no matter: if I remember correctly, it was you and maybe another person who recommended Portis's True Grit, which as a result I've now read and enjoyed, although I can't see Portis as a particularly brilliant Southern writer. Am I missing something? Compared with Reynolds Price or Madison Jones, from where I stand at the moment, Charles Portis does not hold a great position in the history of Southern literature. I'm not trying to be difficult or argumentative here, but what exactly has Portis to offer?


some moments—on a used-car lot outside Belize City, for instance—are of an extraordinary comic genius.

Maybe it's just the mention of Belize City, as I was once mugged there!

blog (http://tonyshaw3.blogspot.com)

[Daniel del Real]

Great to see some enthusiame for something Bubba, i have this one on my hard drive in Marrakech, i'll read it first thing when i come back.
Sound good.

Yes, those are the things you think you'll never see in this forum. Here are some more:

Waalkwriter praising an author who's not Faulkner
Eric reading Bola?o
Mirabell admitting he was wrong in a book's appreciation.

[Mirabell]

Mirabell admitting he was wrong in a book's appreciation.



"admit" presupposes I was wrong. There's nothing to admit. I would admit it, freely, if I were wrong.

[saliotthomas]

Yeah but at least you don't preach, plus you praise sometime stuff stupid enough to make the balance.

And Eric could read Stieg Larsson too:D


Saying nothing about faulkner literary boy band...

[Bubba]

I can't say that I agree in any way at all with your enthusiam for these words, Bubba, but no matter: if I remember correctly, it was you and maybe another person who recommended Portis's True Grit, which as a result I've now read and enjoyed, although I can't see Portis as a particularly brilliant Southern writer. Am I missing something? Compared with Reynolds Price or Madison Jones, from where I stand at the moment, Charles Portis does not hold a great position in the history of Southern literature. I'm not trying to be difficult or argumentative here, but what exactly has Portis to offer?



Maybe it's just the mention of Belize City, as I was once mugged there!

blog (http://tonyshaw3.blogspot.com)

Well, if you've read only True Grit you are, by my count, missing Portis's four other novels. And I don't think of Portis as a particularly brilliant Southern writer; I think of him as one of the very best of the Americans. One of the greats, really, if he had written more.

I think I've told you I read novels exclusively for entertainment. Well, Portis's books, even True Grit, which can be enjoyed by a ten-year-old as well as by a forty-year-old, entertain me to no end. They are extremely generous: adventure, humor, wistfulness, loyalty and betrayal. What more could you want? And even I, who refuse to be instructed, who refuse to submit to any kind of lesson (okay, I'm a little old for this kind of rebellion), who reject outright anything that smacks of pedagogy, even I find that I learn from Portis's work: about writing, about life.

If you go to Amazon you can see that The Dog of the South, unlike many more fashionable books, reviewed by readers who are either afraid to disagree with the commissars of culture or suborned by publishers, has inspired several excellent reader reviews. One reader says that, in his teens, he and his brothers would have long conversations made up entirely of memorized bits of the book. Another says he read it twice in one night. Twice in one night!

Of course, Lionel, you and I may simply have different tastes. In that case, I'm happy to leave you to your "brilliant Southerners."

[john h]

I agree with Bubba totally about "Dog of the south". Great book. I've read a couple other Portis books and didn't like them nearly as well but this one really hits it out of the park.

[lionel]

I agree with Bubba totally about "Dog of the south". Great book. I've read a couple other Portis books and didn't like them nearly as well but this one really hits it out of the park.

OK, Bubba and john h, I submit! I really look forward to reading this book.

BLOG (http://tonyshaw3.blogspot.com)

[Refus de Sejour]

Bubba, I really like that first paragraph. I'm going to pick up a copy from my Library tomorrow.

[Refus de Sejour]

Okay, I'm about three-quarters of the way through, and it's great fun. One favorite moments, when the narrator is reading a salesman's self-help book that has been pushed upon him by his travelling companion, who claims its author "'puts Shakespeare in the shithouse.":


I tried to read the Dix book. I couldn't seem to penetrate the man's message. The pages were brittle and the type was heavy and black and hard to read. There were tips on how to turn disadvantages into advantages and how to take insults and rebuffs in stride. The good salesman must make one more call, Dix said, before stopping for the day. That might be the big one! He said you must save your money but you must not be afraid to spend it either, and at the same time you must give no thought to money. A lot of his stuff was formulated in this way. You must do this and that, two contrary things, and you must also be careful to do neither. Dynamic tension! Avoid excessive blinking and wild eye movements, Dix said, when talking to prospects. Restrain your hands.

Last evening, however, I was shocked to come across a description of a dream! Bubba, doesn't that violate one of your cardinal rules? :D

[saliotthomas]

About in the same place in the book and enjoying it as well.
Still, i don't see why Mr Bubba shit in the boots of Fante and praise Portis so high, maybe just because he actualy read Portis.
Really you should read My dog stupid or west of Rome.

[Bubba]

Okay, I'm about three-quarters of the way through, and it's great fun. One favorite moments, when the narrator is reading a salesman's self-help book that has been pushed upon him by his travelling companion, who claims its author "'puts Shakespeare in the shithouse.":



Last evening, however, I was shocked to come across a description of a dream! Bubba, doesn't that violate one of your cardinal rules? :D

Ah! Dr. Reo Symes! John Selmer Dix! The Elks Club in Shreveport. With Wings As Eagles. Puts Shakespeare in the shithouse indeed!

I'm starting to feel an urge to read The Dog again. Dream or no dream.


About in the same place in the book and enjoying it as well.
Still, i don't see why Mr Bubba shit in the boots of Fante and praise Portis so high, maybe just because he actualy read Portis.
Really you should read My dog stupid or west of Rome.

You're right, Thomas, I haven't read Fante. Only the first few pages of Ask the Dust, which I didn't like at all, since the voice struck me as self-pitying, narcissistic, and humorless. Reo Symes, of course, is self-pitying, but there's also something lovable about him. I will say no more about my views of Fante, since I don't want to be called a "segond baz? bitter poddle" again. I don't know if I could take it.

For those who have read The Dog, here is a link to a Salon review (http://www.salon.com/books/laura_miller/2010/04/18/hellhound_on_his_trail) of a book on the murder of Martin Luther King (the book is getting reviewed everywhere); what struck me was the similarity between James Earl Ray and Reo Symes. I even wondered for a bit if Portis had modeled Symes after Ray.

[saliotthomas]

Some of Fantes like Ask the dusk are a bit heavy on the Italo americain memory lane thing but My dog stupid is hilarous.

I liked Dog of the south for it's sur-realistic side, most of the charact?res half mad, chasing chim?res as Reo chases his car (and wife) and surprisingly, use very little narcotics and drinks for the state of mind they are in.
What make it very hard to fully like the book is such a pathetic hero, a rat face, homely boring, coward, and not very bright. No one seems to care for his company, most forget his name or gives him other ones.
So to step in his shoes is not something one would naturaly do with pleasure. Still, it's fun to go along and see how much the poor bastard can take and go on being his cheerfull good natured self.
Having read Jim Harrisson not long ago, i must say i much prefer his style, A good day to die has some parts about music or parties that i enjoy and make it a nice ride.
Portis road trip is just the unlucky part of onself that we keep on hoping to avoid as much as possible and just it was a bit much for me.

[Refus de Sejour]

What make it very hard to fully like the book is such a pathetic hero, a rat face, homely boring, coward, and not very bright. No one seems to care for his company, most forget his name or gives him other ones.
So to step in his shoes is not something one would naturaly do with pleasure.

I don't know, Thomas, I think unattractive central characters work quite well in comedy (though the hero here, as you point out, isn't that bad; he's weirdly optimistic, and kindly). One of the greatest examples being Ignatius from A Confederacy of Dunces, who is obnoxious is so many ways.

[Bubba]

Some of Fantes like Ask the dusk are a bit heavy on the Italo americain memory lane thing but My dog stupid is hilarous.

I liked Dog of the south for it's sur-realistic side, most of the charact?res half mad, chasing chim?res as Reo chases his car (and wife) and surprisingly, use very little narcotics and drinks for the state of mind they are in.
What make it very hard to fully like the book is such a pathetic hero, a rat face, homely boring, coward, and not very bright. No one seems to care for his company, most forget his name or gives him other ones.
So to step in his shoes is not something one would naturaly do with pleasure. Still, it's fun to go along and see how much the poor bastard can take and go on being his cheerfull good natured self.
Having read Jim Harrisson not long ago, i must say i much prefer his style, A good day to die has some parts about music or parties that i enjoy and make it a nice ride.
Portis road trip is just the unlucky part of onself that we keep on hoping to avoid as much as possible and just it was a bit much for me.

Sure, Ray--not Reo, as you call him--is a bit of "pill;" here he is after being called "rat face" by a hippie artist who is apparently having trouble selling the ten-dollar paper rabbits he makes:

"He thought it was pretty good but it was old stuff to me, being compared to a rat. In fact, I look more like a predatory bird than a rat but any person with small sharp features that are bunched in the center of his face can expect to be called a rat about three times a year."

What strikes me as I finish my yearly reread of the book is that it's really quite devastating; Portis's view is a dark one, but you don't notice it so much because Ray is so kindhearted, immune to bitterness, and Portis tells his story with such a good sense of humor.

Now, I haven't read much Jim Harrison in ten or fifteen years, not because I don't enjoy his books--I do--but because I've been living out of the US and it's hard to find them in English (like Fante, though not quite to the same degree, Harrison is more well known in France than in the US). Still, I've read Farmer, Sundog, Dalva, Woman Lit by Fireflies, Legends of the Fall, and a couple more. And Portis and Harrison can't be compared. Harrison's geezers are generally screwing girls thirty years younger than they are. One of his randy oldsters, if I recall correctly, traverses miles of frozen lake in a blizzard to attain a wilderness island upon which he slays in the old way a great beast whose gutted carcass he lays on the sled that he tows back across the frozen lake, over which another blizzard--or perhaps the same one--is howling. In his arms, I believe, a faithful dog mortally wounded in the hunt. I may be getting the details wrong, but you get the idea. Who wouldn't enjoy all that? (Well, I wouldn't really want the girls to be thirty years younger. Not quite, anyway.) But it's the stuff of fantasy; it's pure macho bullshit. It's sentimental.

Portis, on the other hand, is real.

[saliotthomas]

But it's the stuff of fantasy; it's pure macho bullshit. It's sentimental.
Portis, on the other hand, is real.

The reality of some are the fantasy of others.
And vice et versa.
I always wanted to be sentimental macho, and still working at it.

The comparaison of the two was in the vagrant, road trip stuff and true it stop at that.

[Refus de Sejour]

Okay, having finished the book, here's my verdict:

It's good, but I found the end lacking. Things come to a half-hearted climax and then just peter out. Now, this may be a part of the "realism" Bubba mentioned, but I found it a bit of a let down after the beginning; compare the vigour of that opening paragraph! At the end, several main characters literally just wander off. There is also a very quick summing up, on the last page, of the "a few months later, X did this, and I did that" variety - significant lengths of time glossed over in order to bring things to a conclusion.

But there's still a lot to like, so I'm giving it ***00

[Bubba]

I found a testimonial-style review of The Dog of the South elsewhere on the Interwebz and reproduce it here, because, like the bookseller-writer, I find the dedication moving (not to mention funny):


Singularly the funniest book I have ever read and one whose success I was able to contribute something to. When it came out in 1979 it received unjustifiably little attention for the author of True Grit, a national bestseller, which says something about America's relations with its humorists, and fizzled in the marketplace. Save at the Madison Avenue Bookshop, where we hand sold books and made it a bestseller. Two of my customers, Sam Shepard and Robert Benton, would cite the book when the New York Times queried them as to neglected literary masterpieces.

In 1983 Random House sent us a warehouse inventory that?d turned up 183 copies of the out-of-print masterpiece, which we bought and featured in our influential window. Trimmed by Gene Moore of Tiffany?s window decoration fame, our unorthodox recommendation was not lost on the press and the story was picked up nation wide.

As a result, not only The Dog but all of Mr. Portis? titles sold for very fancy prices at auction and he was not only back in print but the subject of several deeply moving testimonials.

The inscription in my copy is one of the most moving in my collection:
?For Kurt Thometz, the Great New York bookseller, who can raise the dead with a mesmeric pass of his hand, from one who knows. Charles Portis.?