The Dog Stars

( 206 )


A San Francisco Chronicle and Atlantic Monthly Best Book of the Year

Hig somehow survived the flu pandemic that killed everyone he knows. Now his wife is gone, his friends are dead, and he lives in the hangar of a small abandoned airport with his dog, Jasper, and a mercurial, gun-toting misanthrope named Bangley.
But when a random transmission beams through the radio ...

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A San Francisco Chronicle and Atlantic Monthly Best Book of the Year

Hig somehow survived the flu pandemic that killed everyone he knows. Now his wife is gone, his friends are dead, and he lives in the hangar of a small abandoned airport with his dog, Jasper, and a mercurial, gun-toting misanthrope named Bangley.
But when a random transmission beams through the radio of his 1956 Cessna, the voice ignites a hope deep inside him that a better life exists outside their tightly controlled perimeter. Risking everything, he flies past his point of no return and follows its static-broken trail, only to find something that is both better and worse than anything he could ever hope for.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

“Extraordinary. . . . One of those books that makes you happy for literature.” —Junot Díaz, The Wall Street Journal
“This end-of-the-world novel [is] more like a rapturous beginning. . . . Remarkable.” —San Francisco Chronicle 
“For all those who thought Cormac McCarthy’s The Road the last word on the post-apocalyptic world—think again. . . . Make time and space for this savage, tender, brilliant book.” —Glen Duncan, author of The Last Werewolf
“Heart-wrenching and richly written. . . . The Dog Stars is a love story, but not just in the typical sense. It’s an ode to friendship between two men, a story of the strong bond between a human and a dog, and a reminder of what is worth living for.” —Minneapolis Star-Tribune

“A dreamy, postapocalyptic love letter to things of beauty, big and small.” –Gillian Flynn, author of Gone Girl 

"Heartbreaking" —The Seattle Times
“A brilliant success.” —The New Yorker
“Beautifully written and morally challenging” –The Atlantic Monthly

“A book that rests easily on shelves with Dean Koontz, Jack London or Hemingway." —The Missourian

"Dark, poetic, and funny." —Jennifer Reese, NPR

“Terrific. . . . Recalling the bleakness of Cormac McCarthy and the trout-praising beauty of David James Duncan, The Dog Stars makes a compelling case that the wild world will survive the apocalypse just fine; it’s the humans who will have the heavy lifting.” —Outside

“A post-apocalyptic adventure novel with the soul of haiku.” —The Columbus Dispatch
“An elegy for a lost world turns suddenly into a paean to new possibilities. In The Dog Stars, Peter Heller serves up an insightful account of physical, mental, and spiritual survival unfolded in dramatic and often lyrical prose.” —The Boston Globe

“Take the sensibility of Hemingway.  Or James Dickey.  Place it in a world where a flu mutation has wiped out ninety-nine percent of the population. Add in a heartbroken man with a fishing rod, some guns, a small plane. Don’t forget the dog. Now imagine this man retains more hope than might be wise in such a battered and brutal time. More trust. More hunger for love—more capacity for it, too. That’s what Peter Heller has given us in his beautifully written first novel.” —Scott Smith, author of A Simple Plan and The Ruins

“With its evocative descriptions of hunting, fishing, and flying, [The Dog Stars], perhaps the world’s most poetic survival guide, reads as if Billy Collins had novelized one of George Romero’s zombie flicks.” —Publishers Weekly (starred)

 “The Dog Stars can feel less like a 21st-century apocalypse and more like a 19th-century frontier narrative (albeit one in which many, many species have become extinct). There are echoes of Grizzly Adams or Jeremiah Johnson in scenes where Heller lingers on the details of how the water in a flowing stream changes color as the sun moves across the sky.” —The Dallas Morning News

“Full of action and hope…. One you’ll not soon forget.” — The Oklahoman

“A heavenly book, a stellar achievement by a debut novelist that manages to combine sparkling prose with truly memorable, shining, characters.” —The New York Journal of Books

“Gruff, tormented and inspirational, Heller has the astonishing ability to make you laugh, cringe and feel ridiculously vulnerable throughout the novel that will have you rereading certain passages with a hard lump in the pit of your stomach. One of the most powerful reads in years.” —Playboy

The Dog Stars is a wholly compelling and deeply engaging debut.” —Pam Houston, author of Contents May Have Shifted

“Beautiful, haunting and hopeful. . . . Makes your breath catch and your heart ache.” —Aspen Daily News

“At times funny, at times thrilling, at times simply heartbreaking and always rich with a love of nature, The Dog Stars finds a peculiar poetry in deciding that there’s really no such thing as the end of the world—just a series of decisions about how we live in whatever world we’ve got.” —Salt Lake City Weekly

“What separates Heller’s book from other End of Days stories is that it doesn’t rely on the thematic fail-safes to tell the story—The Dog Stars is quite simply the story of what it’s like to be alonet.” —The Stranger

“Proves a truth we know from our everyday nonfictional lives: Even when it seems like all the humans in the world are only out for themselves, there are always those few who prove you absolutely wrong—in the most surprising of ways.” —

“Heller has created a heartbreakingly moving love story. . . . It’s an ode to what we’ve lost so far, and how we risk losing everything.” —Cincinnati City Beat
“A stunning, hope-riddled end-of-the-world story. . . . Bound to become a classic.” —Flavorwire

“Heller’s writing gives you a heartbreaking jolt, like a sudden wakening from a dream.”  —The Seattle Times

“Heller is a masterful storyteller and The Dog Stars is a beautiful tribute to the resilience of nature and the relentless human drive to find meaning and deep connections with life and the living.” —Julianna Baggott, author of Pure

“Terrific . . . With echoes of Moby Dick, The Dog Stars . . . brings Melville’s broad, contemplative exploration of good and evil to his story.” —Shelf Awareness

“Heller’s surprising and irresistible blend of suspense, romance, social insight, and humor creates a cunning form of cognitive dissonance neatly pegged by Hig as an ‘apocalyptic parody of Norman Rockwell’—a novel, that is, of spiky pleasure and signal resonance.” —Booklist (starred)

Publishers Weekly
In the tradition of postapocalyptic literary fiction such as Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and Jim Crace’s The Pesthouse, this hypervisceral first novel by adventure writer Heller (Kook) takes place nine years after a superflu has killed off much of mankind. Hig, an amateur pilot living in Colorado, has retreated to an abandoned airport from which he flies sorties in “the Beast,” his vintage Cessna, over isolated pockets of survivors. His only neighbor is the survivalist Bangley, who’s sitting on a stockpile of weapons and munitions, and the only visitors are plague survivors who have descended into savagery. Hig’s one real comfort, besides the memory of his dead wife, Melissa, who fell victim to the flu while pregnant, is his dog, Jasper. But when that comfort is withdrawn, Hig flies west in search of the radio voice that called out to him three years before. Instead, he ends up being shot down and restrained by a doctor named Cima and her shotgun-toting father, a former Navy SEAL. With its evocative descriptions of hunting, fishing, and flying, this novel, perhaps the world’s most poetic survival guide, reads as if Billy Collins had novelized one of George Romero’s zombie flicks. From start to finish, Heller carries the reader aloft on graceful prose, intense action, and deeply felt emotion. Agent: David Halpern, the Robbins Office. (Aug.)
Library Journal
In the near future, a flu pandemic has decimated civilization, leaving only scattered pockets of survivors to fend for themselves. Hig is one of the healthy ones. For the past nine years, he has coexisted with a loner named Bangley at an abandoned airport in eastern Colorado. Trying not to think of his former life, Hig finds sanity in fishing, staring at the constellations, and flying his plane. With his dog, Jasper, Hig flies the perimeter of their safety zone in his 1956 Cessna. Bangley has a well-stocked arsenal, and between them, they keep a watchful eye for unfriendly invaders. On one of his forays, through broken static, Hig hears another pilot over the radio, an incident that haunts him until he goes in search of this other human being. Packing enough supplies to get him there and back, he takes off for western Colorado in search of the voice. During his six-week journey, he discovers more than he bargained for. VERDICT After an award-winning career as an adventure writer and NPR contributor, Heller has written a stunning debut novel. In spare, poetic prose, he portrays a soaring spirit of hope that triumphs over heartbreak, trauma, and insurmountable struggles. A timely must-read. [See Prepub Alert, 1/30/12.]—Donna Bettencourt, Mesa Cty. P.L., Grand Junction, CO
Kirkus Reviews
A post-apocalyptic novel in which Hig, who only goes by this mononym, finds not only survival, but also the possibility of love. As in Cormac McCarthy's The Road, the catastrophe that has turned the world into its cataclysmic state remains unnamed, but it involves "The Blood," a highly virulent and contagious disease that has drastically reduced the population and has turned most of the remaining survivors into grim hangers-on, fiercely protective of their limited territory. Hig lives in an abandoned airplane hangar and keeps a 1956 Cessna, which he periodically takes out to survey the harsh and formidable landscape. While on rare occasions he spots a few Mennonites, fear of "The Blood" generally keeps people at more than arm's length. Hig has established a defensive perimeter by a large berm, competently guarded by Bangley, a terrifying friend but exactly the kind of guy you want on your side, since he can pot intruders from hundreds of yards away, and he has plenty of firepower to do it. Haunted by a voice he heard faintly on the radio, Hig takes off one day in search of fellow survivors and comes across Pops and Cima, a father and daughter who are barely eking out a living off the land by gardening and tending a few emaciated sheep. Like Bangley, Pops is laconic and doesn't yield much, but Hig understandably finds himself attracted to Cima, the only woman for hundreds of miles and a replacement for the ache Hig feels in having lost his pregnant wife, Melissa, years before. Although Heller creates with chilling efficiency the bleakness of a world largely bereft of life as we know it, he holds out some hope that human relationships can be redemptive.
The Barnes & Noble Review

In the last few years, we've witnessed a parade of the undead staggering over depeopled landscapes. Zombies have marched through the television series The Walking Dead, Colson Whitehead's novel Zone One, and movies both horror-tinged (The Crazies) and humor-tinged (Zombieland), not to mention the literary mashup Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. In his first novel, The Dog Stars, Peter Heller slyly co-opts this current cultural obsession with zombies and post-apocalyptic scenarios to tell an original adventure story set in an uncomfortably near American future.

The Dog Stars begins nine years after most of the U.S. population has been devastated by a mysterious flu. Heller's protagonist, Hig, who lost his wife and unborn child in the epidemic, spends his days in an aging Cessna, patrolling the area around the abandoned Colorado airport hangar where he lives. Dog is — literally — his copilot. Jasper, a blue heeler mix, is Hig's constant companion, an extra pair of eyes and ears on alert for those who intrude within "the perimeter." Their interdependence and mutual affection make for one of the most touching relationships between human and dog in modern fiction.

Aside from Jasper, Hig's survival hinges on his skills as an outdoorsman (Heller is a contributing editor at Outside magazine and has written books about surfing and extreme kayaking) and his wary partnership with Bangley, an ex- military man with a formidable arsenal and a no-mercy mantra who has taken up residence in a nearby abandoned McMansion. The few humans who survived the virus along with Hig and Bangley tend to be deranged by deprivation and the corrosive effects of the flu on their brains. Hig is the spotter. Bangley is the killer.

Like the best science fiction writers, Heller makes our familiar world alien. His vistas — burned-out cities, buckling pavement, a Coke truck, abandoned on the highway, whose cans are bursting one by one during repeated freezes and thaws — are eerie and beautiful. The Dog Stars' eroding infrastructure is reminiscent of Alan Weisman's 2007 nonfiction book The World Without Us, a fascinating thought experiment that describes how swiftly the natural world would reclaim the manmade one if humans were to disappear suddenly from the planet.

The only occasional distraction is Heller's decision to render Hig's first-person account in the broken sentences of a soldier-poet. At moments of high emotion the prose devolves: "I don't. Don't do anything all day. Don't start the fire. Don't cook the fish." And there's an unfortunate love scene made even more awkward by Hig's alternately terse and ornate turns of phrase. Why, oh why, do writers feel compelled to invent flowery new ways to describe an act that is almost always best left to readers' more limber imaginations?

The Dog Stars is so entertaining ? and often so very funny — that it might be easy to overlook the larger questions that Heller cleverly puts into play about the value of human survival at the cost of near-total isolation. Hig's partner, Bangley, appears to relish his solitary life, and he and Hig are constantly at odds over whether to allow anyone who ventures within their designated perimeter to live. Bangley's blow-'em-away arguments make a brutal kind of sense. But one man's utopia is another man's hell.

Hig concedes that any contact with outsiders brings the risk of infection or outright murder. And he mourns the ultimate act of human destruction — global warming — which has resulted in the disappearance of the fish he once loved from local waters. Living alone, even in this diminished world, he continues to take genuine pleasure in the existential activities of hunting, fishing, flying, and gardening. And yet he makes a risky bid to forge a new connection in a world where connection may no longer be possible. Nothing could be more human.

Sarah L. Courteau is the literary editor of the Wilson Quarterly.

Reviewer: Sarah L. Courteau

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780307950475
  • Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 5/7/2013
  • Series: Vintage Contemporaries Series
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 336
  • Sales rank: 48,531
  • Product dimensions: 5.12 (w) x 8.15 (h) x 0.69 (d)

Meet the Author

Peter Heller

Peter Heller holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop in both fiction and poetry. An award-winning adventure writer and longtime contributor to NPR, Heller is a contributing editor at Outside magazine, Men’s Journal, and National Geographic Adventure, and a regular contributor to Bloomberg Businessweek. He is also the author of several nonfiction books, including Kook, The Whale Warriors, and Hell or High Water: Surviving Tibet’s Tsangpo River. He lives in Denver, Colorado.

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Read an Excerpt


I keep the Beast running, I keep the 100 low lead on tap, I foresee attacks. I am young enough, I am old enough. I used to love to fish for trout more than almost anything.

My name is Hig, one name. Big Hig if you need another.

If I ever woke up crying in the middle of a dream, and I’m not saying I did, it’s because the trout are gone every one. Brookies, rainbows, browns, cutthroats, cutbows, every one.

The tiger left, the elephant, the apes, the baboon, the cheetah. The titmouse, the frigate bird, the pelican (gray), the whale (gray), the collared dove. Sad but. Didn’t cry until the last trout swam upriver looking for maybe cooler water.

Melissa, my wife, was an old hippy. Not that old. She looked good. In this story she might have been Eve, but I’m not Adam. I am more like Cain. They didn’t have a brother like me.

Did you ever read the Bible? I mean sit down and read it like it was a book? Check out Lamentations. That’s where we’re at, pretty much. Pretty much lamenting. Pretty much pouring our hearts out like water.

They said at the end it would get colder after it gets warmer. Way colder. Still waiting. She’s a surprise this old earth, one big surprise after another since before she separated from the moon who circles and circles like the mate of a shot goose.

No more geese. A few. Last October I heard the old bleating after dusk and saw them, five against the cold bloodwashed blue over the ridge. Five all fall, I think, next April none.

I hand pump the 100 low lead aviation gas out of the old airport tank when the sun is not shining, and I have the truck too that was making the fuel delivery. More fuel than the Beast can burn in my lifetime if I keep my sorties local, which I plan to, I have to. She’s a small plane, a 1956 Cessna 182, really a beaut. Cream and blue. I’m figuring I’m dead before the Beast gives up the final ghost. I will buy the farm. Eighty acres of bottomland hay and corn in a country where there is still a cold stream coming out of the purple mountains full of brookies and cuts.

Before that I will make my roundtrips. Out and back.


I have a neighbor. One. Just us at a small country airport a few miles from the mountains. A training field where they built a bunch of houses for people who couldn’t sleep without their little planes, the way golfers live on a golf course. Bangley is the name on the registration of his old truck, which doesn’t run anymore. Bruce Bangley. I fished it out of the glove box looking for a tire pressure gauge I could take with me in the Beast. A Wheat Ridge address. I don’t call him that, though, what’s the point, there’s only two of us. Only us for at least a radius of eight miles, which is the distance of open prairie to the first juniper woods on the skirt of the mountain. I just say, Hey. Above the juniper is oak brush then black timber. Well, brown. Beetle killed and droughted. A lot of it standing dead now, just swaying like a thousand skeletons, sighing like a thousand ghosts, but not all. There are patches of green woods, and I am their biggest fan. I root for them out here on the plain. Go Go Go Grow Grow Grow! That’s our fight song. I yell it out the window as I fly low over. The green patches are spreading year by year. Life is tenacious if you give it one little bit of encouragement. I could swear they hear me. They wave back, wave their feathery arms back and forth down low by their sides, they remind me of women in kimonos. Tiny steps or no steps, wave wave hands at your sides.

I go up there on foot when I can. To the greener woods. Funny to say that: not like I have to clear my calendar. I go up to breathe. The different air. It’s dangerous, it’s an adrenalin rush I could do without. I have seen elk sign. Not so old. If there are still elk. Bangley says no way. Way, but. Never seen one. Seen plenty deer. I bring the .308 and I shoot a doe and I drag her back in the hull of a kayak which I sawed the deck off so it’s a sled. My green sled. The deer just stayed on with the rabbits and the rats. The cheat grass stayed on, I guess that’s enough.

Before I go up there I fly it twice. One day, one night with the goggles. The goggles are pretty good at seeing down through trees if the trees aren’t too heavy. People make pulsing green shadows, even asleep. Better than not checking. Then I make a loop south and east, come back in from the north. Thirty miles out, at least a day for a traveler. That’s all open, all plains, sage and grass and rabbit brush and the old farms. The brown circles of fields like the footprint of a crutch fading into the prairie. Hedgerows and windbreaks, half the trees broken, blown over, a few still green by a seep or along a creek. Then I tell Bangley.

I cover the eight miles dragging the empty sled in two hours, then I am in cover. I can still move. It’s a long way back with a deer, though. Over open country. Bangley covers me from halfway out. We still have the handsets and they still recharge with the panels. Japanese built, good thing. Bangley has a .408 CheyTac sniper rifle set up on a platform he built. A rangefinder. My luck. A gun nut. A really mean gun nut. He says he can pot a man from a mile off. He has done. I’ve seen it more than once. Last summer he shot a girl who was chasing me across the open plain. A young girl, a scarecrow. I heard the shot, stopped, left the sled, went back. She was thrown back over a rock, a hole where her waist should have been, just about torn in half. Her chest was heaving, panting, her head twisted to the side, one black eye shiny and looking up at me, not fear, just like a question, burning, like of all things witnessed this one couldn’t be believed. Like that. Like fucking why?

That’s what I asked Bangley, fucking why.

She would have caught you.

So what? I had a gun, she had a little knife. To like protect her from me. She maybe wanted food.

Maybe. Maybe she’d slit your throat in the middle of the night.

I stared at him, his mind going that far, to the middle of the night, me and her. Jesus. My only neighbor. What can I say to Bangley? He has saved my bacon more times. Saving my bacon is his job. I have the plane, I am the eyes, he has the guns, he is the muscle. He knows I know he knows: he can’t fly, I don’t have the stomach for killing. Any other way probably just be one of us. Or none.

I also have Jasper, son of Daisy, which is the best last line of alarm.

So when we get sick of rabbits and sunfish from the pond, I get a deer. Mostly I just want to go up there. It feels like church, hallow and cool. The dead forest swaying and whispering, the green forest full of sighs. The musk smell of deer beds. The creeks where I always pray to see a trout. One fingerling. One big old survivor, his green shadow idling against the green shadows of the stones.

Eight miles of open ground to the mountain front, the first trees. That is our perimeter. Our safety zone. That is my job.

He can concentrate his firepower to the west that way. That’s how Bangley talks. Because it’s thirty miles out, high plains all other directions, more than a day’s walk, but just a couple of hours west to the first trees. The families are south ten miles but they don’t bother us. That’s what I call them. They are something like thirty Mennonites with a blood disease that hit after the flu. Like a plague but slow burning. Something like AIDS I think, maybe more contagious. The kids were born with it and it makes them all sick and weak and every year some die.

We have the perimeter. But if someone hid. In the old farmsteads. In the sage. The willows along a creek. Arroyos, too, with undercut banks. He asked me that once: how do I know. How do I know someone is not inside our perimeter, in all that empty country, hiding, waiting to attack us? But thing is I can see a lot. Not like the back of the hand, too simple, but like a book I have read and reread too many times to count, maybe like the Bible for some folks of old. I would know. A sentence out of place. A gap. Two periods where there should be one. I know.

I know, I think: if I am going to die—no If—it will be on one of these trips to the mountains. Crossing open ground with the full sled. Shot in the back with an arrow.

Bangley a long time ago gave me bulletproof, one of the vests in his arsenal. He has all kinds of shit. He said it’ll stop any handgun, an arrow, but with a rifle it depends, I better be lucky. I thought about that. We’re supposed to be the only two living souls but the families in at least hundreds of square miles, the only survivors, I better be lucky. So I wear the vest because it’s warm, but if it’s summer I mostly don’t. When I wear it, I feel like I’m waiting for something. Would I stand on a train platform and wait for a train that hasn’t come for months? Maybe. Sometimes this whole thing feels just like that.

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Reading Group Guide


The prose style of The Dog Stars is clipped, terse, often fragmented. Why would Heller choose this way of writing this particular story? In what ways is it fitting?

2. At the beginning of Chapter III, the narrator wonders why he’s telling this story. What might be his motivations? Who does he imagine his audience will be?

3. Hig says that Bangley “had been waiting for the End all his life. . . . He didn’t do anything that wasn’t aimed at surviving” [p. 71]. He also clearly enjoys killing people. In what ways is Hig different from Bangley? How did “the End” affect him? How does he feel about killing?

4. How and why does Hig’s relationship with Bangley change over the course of the novel?

5. Jasper’s death is a turning point for Hig. How and why does it affect him so powerfully?

6. When Cima’s father asks Hig why he came to their canyon—why he flew beyond the point of no return—Hig can’t find an answer. What might have prompted Hig to take that risk? What was he looking for?

7. When they decide to take a ewe and a ram with them on the plane, Hig says, “Like the Ark. Here we go” [p. 273]. He says it jokingly, but does the novel offer a sense of hope that life on the planet might continue, postapocalypse? What other biblical references occur in the novel?

8. The Dog Stars is a serious book about a devastating subject, but what are some of its more lighthearted moments? Why is it important that the book have this mixture of tenderness and violence, anxiety and peace?

9. What has caused the end of human civilization in the novel? Why have the scattered survivors become so savage? Does the postapocalyptic world Heller presents seem accurate and likely, given the state of the world today?

10. Why is Hig’s relationship with Cima so important in the novel? What makes it particularly touching, given what each of them has suffered?

11. The novel’s ending is ambiguous. Cima, Hig, Bangley, and Pops have formed a kind of family, the spruce and aspen are coming back, eagles and hawks are flourishing, but the trout and elk are gone, water is disappearing, and mysterious jets are flying overhead. What might happen next, or in the next ten years, for these characters and the world they live in?

12. Why does Heller conclude The Dog Stars with Hig’s favorite poem “When Will I Be Home?” by Li Shang-Yin? Why is this a fitting way to end the story? In what ways is the novel about the longing for home?

13. What does the novel imply about human nature, after the constraints of civilization have been removed? What does it suggest about the possible consequences of the way we are living now?


What similarities does The Dog Stars share with other recent dystopian novels like The Hunger Games and The Road?  In what important ways does it differ from them?

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 206 )
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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 206 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 23, 2012

    Total. Waste of. Time and brain. Cells.

    I. Thought I. Could get over. The writing style because. The story sounded. Interesting.

    But jesus h christ I'm on page 23 and I already have a migraine. Moving on.

    21 out of 36 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 13, 2012


    Incomplete sentences, half spelled words, ending sentences with at, confuses this reader. I liked the story line. I did not enjoy reading the book.

    13 out of 22 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 16, 2012

    This will leave a man pondering....

    I am not much of a follower of post-apocalyptic literature. However, I am a dog-guy and a Westerner who has seen many of the sites where this story takes place. It is sad that Al Gore was right in this story.

    The way the story is told, with terse verse and poetic rhythm, captures breakdown. Breakdown drives most everything in this saga.... even the parts which promise redemption.

    It is a fast read when you get the meter of it. I think I will let it settle in for awhile and then read it again. Not many books interest me enough to do that.

    Every man needs a Jasper and Bangley. Every man needs to find a Cima and fulfill the destiny of being a protector.

    12 out of 15 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted August 11, 2012

    Although the setting is a post-apocalyptic world, I found the bo

    Although the setting is a post-apocalyptic world, I found the book more like the deep, self-reflective novels of Richard Bach. This story made me think and examine my own motivations just as "Stranger To The Ground" did when I was in college. The narrative form made for a quick read. Fantastic!

    12 out of 15 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 6, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    When I first picked up The Dog Stars , I didn¿t know anything mo

    When I first picked up The Dog Stars , I didn’t know anything more than the cover copy gave me: “savagely funny and achingly sad, a breathtaking story about what it means to be human.” Just my cup of tea. A woman at checkout said, “This is considered one of the best books of the year.” I waited for her to say more, to personalize her review, but she didn’t, so I thought I’d be able to tell for myself shortly.

    Actually, it was definitely one of the best books of my year, but it wasn’t because I learned “what it means to be human” but because Heller told an old-fashioned story in a new way. I could have read on, far past the last pages. The writing was stellar. Tension and restraint braid the narrative and propel the story. Heller took us on a flight in a plane packed with only essentials: he jettisoned anything that didn’t add to the narrative…pronouns, prepositions, even nouns and verbs were flung aside. If less is more, we get just enough to set our imaginations free. I loved it.

    The setting is post-apocalyptic times. Let me state that this is not my favorite venue. But readers who find might someone else’s vision less than fully imagined, put your reservations aside in this case. This vision is fascinating, but it is the writing that makes the experience. There is a clipped, muscular quality to this narrative that kept me rapt. Heller managed to make even his hard-bitten characters completely absorbing, flawed but generous in unexpected ways. These are characters we care about. And I suppose it is about what humans want and need to thrive. While it’s frightening at times, it is not dreary, not really. It’s a love story.

    10 out of 10 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 7, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    Highly Recommended

    I have already recommended this book to close friends and colleagues. The writing style was very unusual and at first it threw me. Then as i progressed with the story it felt, "right." This author showed great insight concerning the left over lives. what can happen when you are without common connections and still ned to form a "family." I found it to be at times disturbing, melancholy, inspiring and it touched my heart and spirit. If you are looking for more than a summer read. If you have ever thought about what you would do in a circumstance where a holocaust has happened, this might tap your mind and heart and even your soul.

    8 out of 9 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 7, 2012

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    This book is humdrum, monotonous, boring, a waste of my money.

    This book is humdrum, monotonous, boring, a waste of my money.

    7 out of 22 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 12, 2012

    Is it me?

    I select alot of books based on critic comments and customer I was eager to attack The Dog Stars. But I can't remember a book in recent memory that I SO wanted to end. There's no story here folks...just plenty of long-winded descriptions of lakes and trees and fish and clouds etc. etc. And the writing style -- while unique and somewhat creative -- began grating on my nerves by page 100. While the plot kicked up toward the end, by that time I wanted nothing more than to end this endurance test, and cared little what happened to the main character. Time's too short to waste on a novel this empty.

    6 out of 8 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 11, 2012

    Wow! Really enjoyed it. Love Cessna 182's, dogs and Chinese po

    Wow! Really enjoyed it. Love Cessna 182's, dogs and Chinese poetry!!

    6 out of 12 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 19, 2012

    Taut, gripping, a tour de force!

    Troubling yet uplifting. This story soars.

    5 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted October 12, 2012

    Highly Recommend

    I don't know if this book is for everyone, but it was hard for me to put down. It takes place in a post-pandemic world that reminded me a lot of the post-apocolypse world depicted in The Road. Even the writing style reminded me of The Road. But Heller's world isn't quite as bleak, or dark. Heller's main character has retained his sense of humor, and his relationship with his dog is compelling. I expect this would be a great novel for book club discussions.

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 18, 2012

    Quality book

    Gave great insights to humanity and the brutality, yet sweetness of survival.

    4 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 13, 2012

    Enduring hope

    This book will break your heart ... for yourself and all of humanity. Deeply sad and thought provoking.

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 12, 2012


    I enjoyed this book but on reflection found it a little too pat and superficial. I mean, wasn't it convenient that Cima was a doctor? Still, as a portrayal of a post-apocolyptic world the book was terrifying and depressing. It painted a grim picture of a possible future. My other complaint is that 218 pages is a little short for $11.95. I would like more for my money.

    4 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 27, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    A frightening, beautiful novel that somehow finds a home between

    A frightening, beautiful novel that somehow finds a home between the bleak terror of Cormac McCarthy's The Road and the lyricism of James Galvin's The Meadow. The story's starkness celebrates, in its way, the harshness of the Western landscape, while the writing itself feels out the simple truths and aches of existence that can make our smallest acts seem apocalyptic, and our gestures of love the purest -- even the rawest -- kind of survival.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 26, 2012

    Quite touching but brutal at times

    I've read the brilliant The Road and this book has many of the same themes. There is also the strange sentence structure with missing punctuaction that may be jarring. However, I fell in love with the characters of Hig and his dog Jasper, unlike the distant narrator of McCarthy's book. Love and emotion almost overwhelm him when he loses everything yet somehow he survives with the trigger-happy Bangley and the hope of something else...anything else. When Hig finally takes the leap is when the story takes off.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 14, 2012

    Beautifully written

    First of all, sorry for any typos, i am writing this from my nook.

    The book is written in a stream of conciousness. The style matches the way the narrator is actually thinking, which means grammatical periods are often just a pause for breath, not necessarily the end of an idea. I imagine a lot of the reviewers before me who gave the book one star didnt understand that, which is why they chose to mock it, or ask if complete sentences were still taught in school.

    That said, the plot is interesting and i found myself feeling for the characters. It is beautiful and sad and i loved it. Totally worth the read.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 14, 2012

    I thought the book was very good. While I haven't read much &quo

    I thought the book was very good. While I haven't read much "post-apocalyptic world" fiction, I liked the way the author gives readers a feel of stark broken/emptiness in a fictitious (but possible) setting. Although I must add that at times in sections where the author uses choppy, journal-like writing, I didn't think I could bare reading any further without losing my mind. But with the introduction of new characters and twist in writing style, the story flowed well. I especially liked the ending because it leaves readers with the sense that hope is not completely lost, an unexpected way to round off the final events.

    I recommend this as an adult read that both men & women will enjoy reading.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 8, 2012

    I thought it stunk.

    I thought it stunk.

    2 out of 14 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 10, 2012

    Started off Great

    Was disappoined in the end. Just left me flat.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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