Are you one of those readers who can’t wait to get ahold of the latest book by their favorite authors? Do you like reading books for comfort? If you think that your familiarity with an author’s style and characters already helps you focus more on the storyline, how about adding neighborly locations to the mix?
For winter, here is the perfect book: The more the terrier, written by David Rosenfelt. This title? Not a typo, Grammarly, please don’t fix it. Pun absolutely intended! It is the 30th book in the Andy Carpenter series, all have similar puns in their titles related to dogs, such as Holy chow, Dachshund through the snow, and Flop dead, gorgeous! His books can easily be included here as stressbuster pet therapy and presidential dogs.
Many of his books involve holiday or Christmas themed plots, such as Santa’s little yelpers, Silent bite, and Twelve dogs of Christmas. Rosenfelt’s books also fit into our book recommendations of cozy mysteries and New Jersey books and authors series. Born in Paterson, NJ, Rosenfelt left the state a while ago, but his heart (and pen) stayed here forever, choosing the area as the location of his stories.
His latest book, The more the terrier, is placed in our backyard, at Rutgers University, featuring well-known characters from previous books, such as the slightly obnoxious but hilarious lawyer Andy Carpenter, ex-cop and his wife Laurie, the overzealous computer whiz Sam, the taciturn muscle-man Marcus, and two adorable dogs. A new dog is key to this new mystery, which is about a Rutgers student who allegedly killed a visiting Rutgers professor. Picture all that in a winter/Christmas setting for a stark contrast: a Rutgers undergrad is accused of brutally murdering a computer science professor over a grade. Who are they trying to fool, right? But, just saying, watch out for the TA (in the story only, of course).
Listening to the audiobook version, masterfully narrated by Grover Gardner, was a lot of fun. I share the author’s sentiments (and snarky comments) on the ubiquitous and incessant Christmas music, which can make anyone confess to virtually anything over time. The book even gave me an idea, or, rather, a gifting principle. Gifts should fall into three categories: “enjoyment” (think of video games), “worthwhile” (such as books), and “experiential” (for example a trip or a theater ticket). Kids should receive at least one of each.
It was engaging to follow how a 19-year-old student navigates life at Rutgers, even though his story is just one of many and hopefully not at all typical. Although Rutgers employees can be sitting in a jury box in Middlesex County (and they are often selected for jury duty, according to anecdotal evidence in neighboring counties, too), I’d rather not see any of our students getting caught in the justice system.
A few hints in the story foreshadowed the undergrad’s innocence to any reader at home in academia. The professor allegedly invited the student to his home. Really? It’s absolutely against Rutgers (and probably any other universities’) policy. Faculty members have office hours to discuss grades with students online or on campus. The invitation was extended by a “clerk” at the computer science department (who, in the book, happens to be male, in his early sixties). Seriously? Not your typical AA (Administrative Assistant), as we call the person who used to be the departmental administrator – if the department has one at all.
As a former visiting professor, I can also disperse the myth that Rutgers provides housing at minimal costs to visiting faculty. Nor did I ever have access to a handyman offered by Rutgers to fix things around the house. Just like unfunded research or undisclosed funding, these benefits are non-existent in academia, for all that the reader might glean from the story.
Another bizarre part in the book is when the second professor goes missing. He didn’t show up for two of his classes and a mandatory faculty meeting (a truly LOL-moment to read), so Rutgers Police is dispatched. Missing a faculty meeting is a big no-no in any higher education setting indeed, but sending the cops to your address? What would the neighbors say?
Obviously, I chuckled at the description of the stereotype “egg-headed, tenured professor” too. Chuckled even more hearing about less earth-shattering events described in the story, such as when the dogs finish their business, Carpenter ponders, “I would like to hand the bag over to an avatar to deal with it.” Rosenfelt’s humor is an acquired taste, but I love it. The background of his waggish (pun intended, again) comment, is that a minor character was assaulted virtually in the “Metaverse” cyberspace, hinting that our students live and breathe online. It also reminds us that anything happening in their virtual reality might be construed by them just as hurtful as in the real world. It can even become detrimental to the victim of any kind of abuse in the long run, whether virtual or actual.
No doubt that technology can come handy in critical situations. In the book, after the kidnapped computer scientist is stripped of his phone so he does not disclose his location intentionally or accidentally, LogMeIn helps him. The professor is found easily because he used this innovative technology, now running in the background, developed by a fellow Hungarian almost twenty years ago.
There’s quite a bit of technology in this book, but not so much that it should discourage readers to pick up a copy. Just as there’s not too much of the other disincentive (to put it mildly): the legal stuff. If the reader takes away one thing, it’s definitely the fact that New Jersey is a one-person consent state, which means anyone can legally record any conversation. Think of your phone calls or Zoom meetings: it can go both ways.
There is still time to add a copy of The more the terrier to your gift list. Remember, it qualifies as one of the “worthwhile” presents. If you want to add an “experiential” one too, come visit Rutgers! You can bring your own dogs, too. Sorry, you are on your own for the video game in the “enjoyment” category this time.
Sketches: Holidays, dogs, and Rutgers, by Megan Lotts, art librarian