Sigrid Nunez’s The Friend won the National Book Award for Fiction in 2018, a surprising turn of events for a writer whose first book was published in 1995 yet had never found much of a commercial audience, even with significant critical praise for her work. A novel about a writer and a dog, about love and death, about the writer’s calling and the reader’s expectations, it’s a skillfully crafted work that asks a lot of you even as it is rushing past.
Nobody has names in this book except the dog, Apollo, who doesn’t appear until about 40 pages in. Nunez writes in the second person, as the narrator, a writer, speaks to her recently deceased friend, an acclaimed writer who often taught writing, slept with his students, married three of them, and was a fountain of insight (or merely opinion) on the nature of writing. His death has unnerved her and leads her to revisit much of the history of her friendship with him, but she also ends up taking in his dog, Apollo, an aging great Dane who is himself mourning his lost master, despite the fact that her rent-controlled apartment strictly forbids dogs.
The Friend also brings us two sets of interactions with students – one from college students in writing classes who come across as spoiled non-readers who don’t appreciate good writing and believe their own to be ready for the world, and another from the narrator’s experience working with victims of sex trafficking in a sort of writing therapy. The first group is there more for comic relief, although it becomes a launching point for some of the broader dialogues on why people write (and what a poor choice of career it might be). The second, however, could have spun out into its own book, and if anything gets too little time on the page, but it seems to stand in for the argument that writing can serve a purpose beyond satisfying the author’s ego.
Nunez pulls an authorial trick near the end of the novel that breaks any spell she’d cast to that point, partially redeeming herself with the last few sentences of the entire novel. Prior to that, however, there are some narrative gaps that never sat well with me – notably, why on earth does the narrator take the dog? She’s barely talked into it by Wife Three, and is fully aware it may cost her her apartment. (That also gets a bit of cheap resolution.) You may forgive all of these foibles because The Friend is driven by the narrator’s grief, not by plot. Little actually happens in the book, and what happens is mostly mundane stuff about the dog. You are here for Nunez’s thoughts on writing, on coping with unexpected loss, and what we give and get from our pets. It’s not perfect, but there are some truly lovely passages here, and the ending is so well done it should be punctuated by a bat flip.
Next up: Spike Milligan’s comic novel Puckoon.
