This man, with all of his shortcomings towards his wife and family, has proven himself quite endearing. I loved the story (not all about dogs, but they are the running theme throughout the book). It's a very short read and I would recommend it to dog lovers and lovers of nature. Morie Sawatashi loves the outdoors, the ruggedness of the mountains in Japan and, of course, Akitas. I was slightly sad that there wasn't more to read about this man and his dogs. ( )

Recommended to me by the man in the next seat on the airplane while we were talking about the current research into the structure and reality of the dog-man interaction. The subject of this nonfiction book, a man who lived in the snow country of northeast Japan for most of his life, was largely responsible for the revival of the Akita breed of dogs after World War II. It's a tale of stubborn obsession to the exclusion of his family or virtually any other interest. Unfortunately, while the man's true interest in the dogs is obvious, the writer's style somehow detached this reader from understanding the relationship between the dogs and their owner. The book has little warmth even in its core -- and it's not all because of the snow. Having read the classic "Snow Country" some time ago, I had higher hopes. ( )

This man, with all of his shortcomings towards his wife and family, has proven himself quite endearing. I loved the story (not all about dogs, but they are the running theme throughout the book). It's a very short read and I would recommend it to dog lovers and lovers of nature. Morie Sawatashi loves the outdoors, the ruggedness of the mountains in Japan and, of course, Akitas. I was slightly sad that there wasn't more to read about this man and his dogs. ( )

Coming to an understanding of a foreign culture through reading often involves a combination of frontal and oblique approaches. Straight-forward books on history and society will almost get you there, but then add some good fiction and you are almost across the line. What really seals the deal though are stories of eccentrics in those cultures, of outsiders who live on the inside, and their relationship with the mainstream. Or with what you perhaps mistakenly have assumed up till now to be the mainstream. Cultures are 'polished' for foreign consumption, assumptions are made about what we want to hear and unpleasant truths are minimised or suppressed. Authors and readers alike come with preconceived notions and there's a general tendency towards keeping everyone happy.

But the eccentric, and the story about the eccentric breaks all those conventions. The eccentric is more likely than anyone in that culture to pass judgement on it. It's true that the judgement may be wildly wrong, but at least it can be counted upon to be an honest expression. And how the culture that incorporates the eccentric reacts to their presence is usually so visceral as to disallow - or expose as false - any tendency towards the conventional in how their story is dealt with in print. These oddities don't define a culture, but they do illuminate them in interesting ways.

Dog Man does all of this for our notion of Japanese culture. The editors have pitched it as a story of a man and his love for an endangered breed of dogs. But it is also a story of a man who alienates his wife and children with his obsession, someone who is admirable but also flawed. And if we recognize some of the aspects of his love for these dogs and that obsession with showing them competitively, there are also aspects of his life that remind us that this is an example of an stranger within a strange culture. Not someone like us, but someone twice removed from us. But having made the effort to travel so far from what we know and what we are comfortable with, we are rewarded with a story that shines a light from the inside of Japanese mainstream culture, albeit a faint one. But from such small gems we can build up a much more authentic pictures of what we seek to understand.

Recommended as a book about eccentrics and Japan, but perhaps less so as a story about the dogs themselves. Their role it seems is to give boasting rights to the Dog Man and though there is love there, you have the sense that he feels it most keenly (or is only willing to express it) in his preserving their pelts in his house long after each one has died. Not stuffed in some pose recreating life, but skinned and tanned, and rolled in a bundle. But to understand that you have to understand that these dogs were once eaten as food, and their coats used for winter clothing. And so you begin to mine through the layers of Japanese thought and culture, beneath the surface of conventional imagery and narrative. Recommended. ( )

This book reads as an interesting narrative. Good for readers who tend not to like biographies. Most chapters focus chronologically on the main dogs Morie raised, and how it affected the life of his family and community. The narrative expertly interweaves historic events with harsh mountain life without spiraling into a pity fest. The reader completes the book with a better appreciation of the Akita breed as well as admiration for Japanese culture and norms. ( )