A novel (novella?) about Churchill's black dog - interesting idea, odd result.

Five Things About Mr. Charwell:

1. If I tell you this is a book about depression, you won’t want to read it. At least, I wouldn’t want to read it. Depression is real, yes, but depression also tends to be static; it clogs and slows and dilutes its victim. Which makes for boring fiction. So I won’t tell you that this book is about depression (because it’s not very true, anyway). I will instead tell you that this book is about Winston Churchill, which also isn’t tremendously true. Winston Churchill struggled with depression during his life, referring to it as a black dog. Well, in this book, depression is truly a black dog, six feet tall and smelly and just there. So there you go. This is practically a dog book.

2. Also, it’s not really about depression. It’s about strength. Possibly this makes it a not-depressing book with depression as a main character. Rebecca Hunt is a very clever wordsmith, and I had to stop a few times to read sentences out loud because of how very TRUE their contents were. I love a book that makes me nod and say “that’s exactly how it is! I never thought of it that way!” (Well, I don’t really say that. I just go GAH and read it out loud. But that’s what I mean.)

3. Plus, it’s funny. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how sadness and laughter live right next door to each other. This book nails that. Hunt is well aware of the humor inherent in a six foot tall dog named Mr. Chartwell looking for a room to let, and she runs with it.

4. The metaphor is pretty stinkin’ impeccable. I really think this exchange between one of the narrators, Esther, and the black dog, Mr. Chartwell, is a great example of both the book’s humor and the effectiveness of the metaphor. She has just asked him how it is that Mr. Chartwell affects Churchill, and he replies: “It’s hard to explain. With Churchill we know each other’s movements, so we have a routine, I guess. I like to be there when he wakes up in the morning. Sometimes I drape across his chest. That slows him down for a bit. And then I like to lie around in the corner of the room, crying out like I have terrible injuries. Sometimes I’ll burst out at him from behind some furniture and bark in his face. During meals I’ll squat near his plate and breathe over his food. I might lean on him too when he’s standing up, or hang off him in some way. I also make an effort to block out the sunlight whenever I can.”

5. The novel never overstays its welcome. Short chapters fill its brief 242 pages, making for a speedy read. The conceit of a panting black dog following people around might have gotten old if Hunt had let it, but — unlike Mr. Chartwell — Hunt gives the reader precisely what is needed and then is gone before there can be an aftertaste.

A very interesting book.

In a time when depression was considered shameful, Winston Churchill was pretty open about his psychological problems -- he called his depression "the black dog."

And Rebecca Hunt's "Mr. Chartwell" has apparently taken an whimsical yet dark approach: what if there were a true embodiment of Churchill's black dog? It's a funny, quirky novel.... until you realize that Hunt iss addressing it TOO lightly, and that she doesn't really understand that depression is a very serious disease. This is like a literary version of "Drop Dead Fred."

Mr. Chartwell ("Black Pat") is a big black talking dog who stinks, wrecks your house, and cannot be seen or heard except by the person he's tormenting. And unfortunately, he has decided to stay with the legendary statesman Winston Churchill -- who soon finds his life (and house) turned upside-down and inside-out. He also stays with Ester, a woman who is struggling with emotional depression after her husband's death.

He sits on Churchill. He chases cats. He ruins cigars. He sings annoying songs to distract Churchill when the poor man is trying to work. He chews Churchill's furniture. He makes annoying puns. He gets drunk on gin. The disasters keep piling up -- will poor Churchill be able to overcome the black dog, and be able to do his job? Well, if Churchill's only problem was an annoying houseguest, then the answer would be an obvious "YES"!

I think Rebecca Hunt was aspiring to write a charmingly eccentric story, written in metaphor-heavy literary prose. There's lots of slapstick, word puns, random mayhem, and screwball antics between Churchill and Black Pat, as the caricatural dog keeps making life miserable -- it's depression as a combination of a stray dog and crazy old man.

The problem is, it doesn't work. Rebecca Hunt has obviously never been clinically depressed, and it seems like she's never met anyone who was. It's not funny. It's not cute. If it had a physical form, it would be more like the Nazgul from "Lord of the Rings" -- a horrifying, soul-smothering creature that stalks you relentlessly and can never be destroyed.

And that is where the book collapses. It's fun and cute as long as you don't bother looking below the surface at the REAL "black dog," and realize what Mr. Chartwell is meant to embody. Perhaps Hunt meant for this to be satirical, but the comedy is too rude and bumbling to succeed. It just comes across as being offensively ignorant of what the author is trying to write about.

"Mr. Chartwell" tried to be a dark, clever exploration of depression and the struggle against one's inner demons... but instead it ends up being the doggy version of "Drop Dead Fred."

Marvelous depiction of Churchill and the struggles of depression.

I really didn't care for this book. It reminded me of a strange indie film that you suffer through in disbelief that it isn't going to get any better. I knew from the very first paragraph that this was not for me. However, I persisted so I could complain about it to my book club. I kept waiting for something of consequence to happen or for one of the characters to develop a personality, or for some scrap of human emotion to be conveyed. For a book about depression, I did not feel that emotion come through strongly. Maybe a little sadness, but certainly not depression.

I considered putting this down several times. The characters weren't overly engaging, and very little happened. But the extremely short chapters (2-4 pages, usually) made it easy to keep reading "just a little more," and I did very much like her prose.
I loved her imagery, brief but colorful, like "...her voice was puffy," or "...he said with a violating intimacy..." for a few examples. No florid, long-winded descriptions here.