Today's guest is Elaine Neil Orr, author of five books, including the novels A Different Sun and Swimming Between Worlds. She was born and grew up in Nigeria, the daughter of missionary parents, and most of her writing is grounded in both the American South and in Nigeria. She is a professor of English at North Carolina State University and serves on the faculty of the Naslund-Mann Graduate school of Writing, Spalding University.
In Dancing Woman, Orr's sixth book, a young American woman, Isabel Hammond, follows her agriculture aid worker husband to Nigeria, hoping to find inspiration and meaning for her own life. Disappointed in her early attempts at painting and after a miscarriage, her desires seem doomed, but then she meets a charismatic local musician, Bobby Tunde. They share a night of passion that could upend everything.
Please welcome Elaine Neil Orr to the book club…
Falling in Love Again
My husband and I were visiting a friend in Salisbury, North Carolina, on New Years Day, 2018, when I mentioned that we might want to get a dog, "for our granddaughter," I said. "Her parents can't get one right now." Nancy's eyes sparkled. "Have I got the dog for you!" she said. The pup had been left chained outside in freezing weather and neighbors had rescued it. Andy overheard our conversation. Within minutes, the three of us were skipping through the neighborhood to meet the dog.
I'm not sure what caused me to say we were thinking about a dog. I don't remember discussing it. But when Nancy relayed the pup's woeful tale, we moved with the intention of a liberation squad.
The puppy jumped and bleated in his crate as we entered the side porch. He had the face of an angel, twin brown markings on either side of a white blaze of snout, a beauty mark on one cheek, eyes so soulful, James Brown would cry, dark, velvety ears. Otherwise, he was white with brown splotches thrown artfully across his coat.
We took him for a play hour in Nancy's fenced yard. He zipped with the glee of children who haven't learned their limits. At twenty-five pounds, he was all muscle. No. All heart.
We brought him home to Raleigh that night.
I claimed naming rights and made him Sam. But when our granddaughter saw him, he became Sammy Boy. I swore he was not going to sleep on our bed. Within days, he was sleeping on every bed.
Our home had been quiet. Now, in addition to our granddaughter's regular visits, we had a bouncing boy. I learned the power of dogs to love, charm, know, yearn, guide, pause your life, and require you to redirect it. What difference did it make if temperatures were in the teens or it poured rain for twenty-four hours? We had to walk the dog. Which meant we had to breathe fresh air, find our spirits renewed, and laugh as we shook the water off our raincoats.
We went to puppy training classes. We spent hours picking out doggy toys. When Andy and I hugged, Sammy wanted to hug too, stretching his long body against ours. Before long we had Sammy lore. My husband and I bonded again over this apparently luckless dog who was spending New Year's Day unclaimed on a cold porch until we called him our own.
We were in love.
-- Elaine Neil Orr
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
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