



And a Dog Called Fig
Solitude, Connection, the Writing Life
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4.5 • 2 Ratings
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- $11.99
Publisher Description
And a Dog Called Fig is the story of one writer’s life with dogs (including a frisky new puppy), how they are uniquely ideal companions for building a creative life, and some delightful tales about dogs and their famous writers
Into my writer's isolation will come a dog, to sit beside my chair or to lie on the couch while I work, to force me outside for a walk, and suddenly, although still lonely, this writer will have a companion.
An artist’s solitude is a sacred space, one to be guarded from the chaos of the world, where the sparks of inspiration can be kindled into fires of creation. But within this quiet also lie loneliness, self-doubt, the danger of collapsing too far inward.
An artist needs a familiar, a companion with emotional intelligence, innate curiosity, an enthusiasm for the world beyond, but also the capacity to rest contentedly for many hours. What an artist needs, Helen Humphreys would say, is a dog.
And a Dog Called Fig is a memoir of the writing life told through the dogs Humphreys has lived with and loved over a lifetime, including Fig, her new Vizsla puppy. Interspersed are stories of other writers and their own irreplaceable companions: Virginia Woolf and Grizzle, Gertrude Stein and Basket, Thomas Hardy and Wessex—who walked the dining table at dinner parties, taking whatever he liked—and many more.
A love song to the dogs who come into our lives and all that they bring—sorrow, mayhem, reflection, joy—this is a book about steadfast friendship and loss, creativity and craft, and the restorative powers of nature. Every work of art is different; so too is every dog, with distinctive needs and lessons. And if we let them guide us, they will show us many worlds we would otherwise miss.
Includes Black-and-White Photographs
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In this tender tribute, novelist and essayist Humphreys (The Evening Chorus) explores the parallels between "the creative journey" and communing with one's canine. After her beloved vizsla Charlotte's death, Humphreys adopted another vizsla, Fig, named for her dark red fur, "the colour of a ripe Calimyrna fig." Despite a rocky start (mainly due to the pup's penchant for nipping), the two quickly settled into a loving relationship, one that came to nourish Humphreys's craft. Intriguingly, she describes the process of writing as akin to that of caring for a puppy—from finding structure in daily strolls, to discovering the perfect setting ("I pay attention to the landscape in a very immediate way, as my dog does"), pacing, and ending. As she mixes her sparkling ruminations with stories of other famous writers who felt a similar kinship to their pooches—among them, Anton Chekov, Alice Walker, and Virginia Woolf (who believed "that dogs represented ‘the private side of life—the play side' ")—she gives equal veneration to the power of walking. "The dog walk is not to be underestimated as a source for creativity and life-giving energy," she opines. "What crosses your path will always... lead you to discover new things." Dog lovers will find this a treat.