Dean Spanley

I am full of anxiety about the upcoming showing of Dean Spanley at the Portland International Film Festival. The film is an adaptation of one of my favorite novels, My Talks with Dean Spanley, by the Anglo-Irish writer Lord Dunsany (1878-1957). Judging from the film's description in the festival's literature, the producers and writers seem to have taken considerable liberties with the story. That by itself does not mean the film will be a failure (I'm not a purest in that sense at all), but I'd hate to see the charm of the story get drowned in a lot of gross sentimentality or, worse, gratuitous special effects. My fingers are crossed, however.

I was first turned on to the novel after reading an article in Salon in which several writers were discussing some of their favorite out-of-print books. P.J. O'Rourke wrote about Spanley, describing its strange protagonist and its odd premise. In a nutshell, it tells the story of an Anglican churchman who, when under the influence of his favorite vintages, will tipsily offer up his theories of the transmigration of souls and recount events from his previous life as a spaniel. The novel, essentially a transcription of the "talks" the narrator has with Dean Spanley and the dean's own extended reveries, is a hilarious and heartwarming (especially for dog lovers) probing of canine psychology--rather anthroporphized, of course. I read the book after reading O'Rourke's account and it instantly became a favorite of mine too.

If you'll pardon me, I can connect a couple other anecdotes to the book. The edition I first read came from the Chicago Public Library. I checked it out, after reading O'Rourke's endorsement, on a hot and humid summer day. My wife was out of town on one of her international jaunts (horseback riding around the pyraminds or touring castles along the Rhine or bartering with carpet salesmen in Dehli, who can remember?) and I was jealous and lonely. I wanted nothing so much as to lose myself in a good book. So I fabricated a cold winter night: I closed all the windows in the apartment, turned the A/C on full blast in the bedroom, put my pajamas on, and crawled under the comforter. I read the novel in its entirety that night (it's short) and was as content as I've ever been after a good fun read. My wife, who has always feigned bemusement at this story, made it up to me years later by sneaking a copy of Spanley into my suitcase when I went off on a fishing trip to Alaska.

In my short career as a journalist (and I mean short) I had occasion to call P.J. O'Rourke to get his always entertaining opinion on some matter. We had a brief friendly conversation and, at the end of it, I told him how because of him I'd been inspired to read My Talks with Dean Spanley. "You're kidding?!" he said with incredulity, and after we each had taken turns lavishing praise on the book, he said, "I think you and I are about the only people in this country who have read that book." He may be right, but perhaps if the film is any good this little jewel by Dunsany will find new fans.

Here's IMDB on the film: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1135968/

Here's Wikp on Dunsany: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dunsany

And here's O'Rourke at Salon: http://www.salon.com/books/feature/1997/12/cov_04feature.html#Rourke

Woof!

C.D.