Nop's Hope

by Donald McCaig

Crown Publishers, New York. $20.00

Review by Norman Maynard

In the world of Donald McCaig, animals and humans are different interpretations of the same idea, nature finding expression in two legs, or four. This is not a simple case of "animal rights" or the New Ageist tendency to deify lower life forms. Nor is it an exercise in the appalling practice of personification, raised to an insipid and arguably damaging level by the folks at Disney; rather, McCaig possesses the demeanor and talent to convincingly convey the worldview of animals (mainly dogs, and specifically, border collies) and their symbiotic relationship with the people who keep them.

Nop's Hope is a sequel to the 1984 novel, Nop's Trials. Mr. McCaig's earlier book made evident the author's talent: we do not so much "hear" animals speak as much as listen to what they have to say through a series of insightful translations by the author. Dogs are shown to possess as wide a range of values, work ethics and loyalties as their various human counterparts, and Mr. McCaig leaves delightfully ambiguous which set of mores we should see as more highly evolved.

Nop's Trials is the story of Lewis Burkeholder, and his prize border collie Nop, who is stolen on Christmas Day. The book takes us through the ensuing trials of both man and dog, following their paths through junkyard vales, circus sideshows, homeless shelters, sleazy bars and volunteer fire departments. On the way, Nop becomes as real and alive as any character in fiction. (Mention Nop's name at a sheepdog trial - you can find them from Scotland to Virginia to Utah to Australia - chances are, you'll get a knowing response.) Lewis' struggle to find Nop brings him closer to his wife, daughter, and a son-in-law he can't quite accept, while the parallel journey of Nop leads him to re-examine his own instincts, and to question the deal his species struck with humanity a thousand generations ago. Taken in its entirety, the book is a positive, insightful description of the understanding, respect and devotion which can occur between human and animal.

In his latest book, McCaig follows Lewis' daughter Penny, and Nop's offspring Hope, as they make their way around the country on the sheep dog trial circuit. A car accident has taken the lives of her husband and daughter, and Penny struggles for financial and emotional independence in the best way she knows - running Hope after sheep. Her journey, as in the first novel, is a symbol for a deeper search, only in this case Penny's sojourn has little to do with the animal, and that is where the novel suffers. Whereas the dog represents her "hope" for a new and better life, it never progresses beyond the limited sense of meal ticket. We are never shown Penny's love for her dog, never get a sense of the trust and blind faith which McCaig implies - throughout both books - is a master's duty to return to his dog.

Indeed, as a character Penny is somewhat less than endearing. No one can blame the woman for being bitter (she also survives an attempted rape early in the book), but whereas her father's tight-lipped determination was endearing, his quest, after all, was to save his dog from being exploited. Now, Penny is the exploiter, and she comes across as boorish and self- pitying. Consider this conversation, a long one by her standards.

"Penny, you dance?"

Penny shook her head. "I got nothing to celebrate."

"It isn't going to hurt you." He extended a hand.

"Suppose you let me be the judge of that."

The author seems aware of his heroine's incivility, and goes to some length to put safe distance between the reader and Penny's inner suffering, which lasts throughout the book. On page 123, we get this description of Penny and Ransome Barlow, a man with whom Penny travels the circuit. (To make sure there are no mixed signals, she sleeps beside - or, in bad weather, beneath - their jointly owned truck.)

"I never in my life saw a judge like that," he said. "That wasn't a grip at the pen. Bute just nudged that ewe."

"He nudged her with his teeth," Penny said. "That judge was right."

A hundred miles later, Penny said, "What's wrong with you?"

Five hundred miles later, Penny said, "You must be getting tired. If you want, I can drive."

Eight hundred miles later, she said, "Suit yourself."

Two thousand six hundred miles later, the sun was just coming over the Blue Ridge. The corn and alfalfa in Shenandoah Valley were wet and glistening with dew. Penny thought to say something about how beautiful it was but there was no point. "Next time we stop for gas," she said, "I'll want to pee."

And so on down the merry road. The nature of the tragedies described in the two books is such that in the first, the problem is resolved and all is right with the world; in this sequel, the loved ones can never come back, the attempted rapists are never brought to justice and the closure of the book is brought about not by Penny's actions (as with Lewis) but by her failure. In the end, too, it is her father who rescues her and brings her back to his home. There, we are led to believe, she begins a new life, safely ensconced in another man's arms, herding a man's sheep on a man's ranch. She never does become independent, either emotionally or financially.

The book clearly shows that mastery of animals is a slippery thing, based upon mutual respect and need. Penny never achieves that mastery, and we are left to assume that something within her life remains unbalanced. Perhaps Penny's failure is the ultimate letdown of the book: because she never gets beyond her utilitarian relationship with Hope, the change we hope for as readers - the protagonist's conquest of the problems life throws her way - is never realized, and the book ends with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction.

This is not to say Nop's Hope is not worth the read. We can learn a great deal by understanding how animals look at the world, and us. With these two books, Donald McCaig has made great strides toward showing us that our responsibilities to animals are not so different from what we owe one another as people, and he has done so without belittling either subject. No small feat.