Sara Gruen’s “Water for Elephants”

Water for Elephants falls into that category of books with the special covers that attract my eye in bookstores. That, combined with the special promotions Barnes and Noble and other bookstores gave it as a New York Times bestseller, meant that it was one I noticed often. The subject matter, only vaguely described on the back of the book, of a depression-era circus was not a strong inducement however, so it remained on the bookstore shelves. I finally picked it up when I heard that there was a movie. Being the intellectual snob that I tend towards, I wanted to read it before everybody and their mother saw the movie, bought the movie-edition cover, and became huge fans. I guess this is the closest I can come to empathizing with diehard sports fans whose ire raises at fans who merely jump the bandwagon.
The novel operates as a series of flashbacks. Jacob Jankowski, is “ninety. Or ninety-three. One or the other.” He is a cranky old resident of a nursing home who has long since stopped keeping track of time: “What’s the difference between three weeks or three years or even three decades of mushy peas, tapioca, and Depends undergarments?” The arrival across the street of a circus interrupts his griping and plunges the reader into his own memories of his early life as a circus veterinarian. He was a student in his final year at Cornell’s veterinary school when both of his parents, his only family, die in a car accident. He is forced to sell his father’s practice to pay off he debts on the house and for his tuition and he is, suddenly, penniless, homeless, and friendless in the midst of the Depression. He jumps an unknown train in the night; the next morning, he discovers he has accidentally joined the circus. The novel progresses from there, intermittently returning to the nursing home where Jacob eagerly anticipates visiting the red top as he remembers his time in the circus as one of the best of his life.
I found the novel to be satisfactorily engaging: though not a page-turner, it did not drag. Jacob the curmudgeon was somewhat humorous, though often annoying, but Jacob the young vet was a good narrator. I don’t know that I found it nearly as “compelling…vivid…rich…emotional…riveting…[or] endlessly surprising” as the reviews on the back of the book found it to be. As a circus book, I would have thought the characters to be a little more interesting and well-developed. Jacob befriends a couple of outcasts, Walter (a midget known as Kinko with a beloved dog named Queenie) and Camel (the man who first introduced him to the ringmaster but who quickly succumbs to an alcohol-induced paralysis). Jacob must maneuver the sharp distinctions between the performers and the regular employees, though this initial trouble fades into the background as Jacob, the chief veterinarian, allies more closely with the performers. In general the book progresses like this – a problem is first introduced, be it the purchase of a new, seemingly-untrained elephant, the pain of Jacob’s unrequited love for the horsemistress Marlena (married to the ringmaster), the successful training of Rosie the elephant, or hiding Jacob and Marlena’s budding romance from gossipers and Marlena’s husband, or the escape of the circus menagerie and resultant stampede. Each problem is presented as a challenge, but then subtly fades into the background so that the resolution happens almost without notice.
I guess the reverse of this would be hyperdramatized narratives – and some of them (particularly the socially divided lunchroom and forbidden romance) are particularly stereotypical. So I suppose overly subtle is better than overly exaggerated. Certainly not the drama promised on the back cover. The resolution is neat and tidy, and pleasing in its happiness, though again Rosie’s part, so dramatically introduced in the prologue, reads almost like an afterthought. All in all, a pleasant read, with moderate spurts of excitement, but certainly not overwhelming. Maybe slightly recommended, though less than enthusiastically.