Feed My Dear Dogs is all stream-of-consciousness loops and swirls, reminiscences piled upon digressions upon tangents. It follows the growing-up of one young girl, half Jewish, schooled in convents, third of five siblings, one of two girls. It takes place in the UK and in Canada, but mostly inside her head as she comes to terms with life and death, literature and science, religion, sex, love and family – or never really comes to terms with any of them, perhaps.
There’s a scent of madness throughout, a dropping in to other voices – who’s speaking now? There are sorrows hinted at, sorrows pointed out and returned to, their stories not recounted for chapters upon chapters.
And no resolution, exactly, as life has no resolution, exactly.

It’s haunting and beautiful and intense. I couldn’t read it at bedtime because the voice got into my head, drawing me into the panicked spirals of anxiety, keeping me awake. For this reason, it took me a long time to finish it, but I do recommend it with my whole heart.

Ah! Mordecai Richler’s daughter! Yes, I see.