The Gerbil Farmer's Daughter: A Book Review

(Big happy exhale)

Oh, this book. It's so good. You must read.

I'm always on the hunt for fascinating nonfiction, yes? The Gerbil Farmer's Daughter by Holly Robinson fits the bill--and then some. The lovely folks at Harmony Books/Random House sent me a copy, and I just stared at the cover for a while. The image speaks for itself, no? I think the cover and the book can be easily summed up with one word: Delight. But since I've never been one to only use one word, I'll tell you more.

Robinson's father was a total Navy man--very meticulous, focused, and (I think without meaning to be) hilarious. So when he decided he should raise gerbils like some kind of CIA secret mission, he went for it all the way. He became the most successful (and fairly covert) gerbil farmer in the country--methinks the world--and it all started with a few gerbils in a garage.

So the story itself is fantastic. It's so bizarre that you have to love it. Her entire family blew me away with how interesting and unique they were--especially her sarcastic, witty mother. But what really got me was Robinson's writing. She has this amazing way of putting together words that made me laugh out loud, stop to think, and perfectly visualize what she was saying:

"'Watch this,' I said, and clapped my hands smartly together. The sound startled George the guinea pig--he squealed, and I almost dropped him. Marcy's rabbit thumped her feet, so Marcy had to hang on to her by the scruff of her neck. But it was worth it: in the dim light, I could see that the gerbils had all frozen upright on their hind legs, heads turned toward us as if we were the movie and they were the audience."

See that? See how she does that? You can perfectly picture the gerbils, can't you? Love it.

Here's another gem:

"Dad pulled into the driveway, where a hearse was parked in front of the carport. 'Well,' he said, stubbing his cigarette out into the ashtray, 'that's something.'

'There has to be an explanation,' Mom said.

We all sat there looking at the hearse and trying to think of one. There was a small symphony of sounds in the car: Philip sucking on his pacifier, Donald kicking at the seat, the anxious panting of the poodle, and the occasional pitiful howl from the Siamese. Dad and Mom each smoked another cigarette as we continued to stare at the hearse. It was painted a grayish purple color not yet named by man, and it had hex signs and flowers all over it.

'Okay,' Dad declared at last with a smart, military tap on the steering wheel. 'I'm going in. You stay here and guard the car. There's probably some damn flower children camped in our house.'

'Hippies,' Mom agreed. The low opinion of dirty hippies held by both of my parents was one of the most enduring bonds of their marriage."

Oh yes, I laughed out loud at that one. And so many other moments. The brilliant part of Robinson's writing is that she is speaking with an age-appropriate voice at all times. This is NOT easy to do. As we reflect in life, it's hard to regain that youthful innocence when recording past memories. It's easier to throw in our grown-up opinions about what is going on. Not Robinson. She's the age she was at the time. Like the way she beautifully, yet totally honestly, speaks of her sister--who you can learn about as you read. As Robinson gets older in the book, her voice and language get a bit older, too. It's writing at its best form. I must admit--totally jealous. The whole time I was reading, I thought: this would make a great movie. Someone must seriously buy the movie rights. It would rule.

I will not spoil the book for you by telling you all of the juicy bits. You can read about gerbil farming (which you must) all by yourself. Especially right now because summer is the perfect time to read this book. Put down the chick lit; pick up the gerbils.

One last thing...

From the press release that came with the book:

"I think the main thing that life with my eccentric, entrepreneurial father taught all of us is that normal is overrated. There is no need to curb your dreams or water down your passions simply because people tell you something is impossible. My brothers and I are all very stubborn people who fully believe, as our parents both did, that it's never too late--or too crazy--to try something new."

Take that with you throughout your day. Along with the mental image of gerbils--frozen in place after a quick hand clap--staring at you.