Not quite the cat’s meow

~ My Patients Like Treats: Tales from a House-Call Veterinarian, by Duncan MacVean ~

The title and cover picture are both charming. The book itself is largely a disappointment. MacVean may well be a great veterinarian, but alas, he is far from being a great writer.

MacVean has clearly had an interesting life, with many interesting encounters. After graduating as a veterinarian, he served in Malaysia for a spell, worked as an academic in Colorado State University, then moved back to his hometown of Sacramento, California, where he paid house calls to his patients. However, despite such a wealth of experience, good writing and/or storytelling ability is not a given, and this book just does not deliver interestingly.

The book is focused far more on humans, than on animals. For those who are hoping for a read about animals in the tradition of James Herriot, you may want to give this a miss, because MacVean comes across as being far more interested in pet owners than his patients. And although the stories should be interesting for their eventful natures, they fall quite flat – it was a chore getting through the chapters; which were redeemingly short, at least. MacVean also spends a lot of the book talking about himself, his feelings, his reactions, his life. Which is all fine, but the focus is definitely on humans, not animals.

The real problem with this book is just a simple lack of writing skills. For example, in recounting how his wife found their missing cat, MacVean writes:

“She got out, lifted her raincoat up over her head, and peered at the object. Recognition flushed her face.”
p172

What exactly does he mean by “recognition flushed her face”? And how would he know this, since he was not there? Did his wife, in telling him how she found the cat, actually say I flushed when I found the cat? Really? Assuming that is what MacVean even meant – that her face coloured – because the reader is not too clear how recognition flushes one’s face. MacVean is occasionally given to these meaningless florid phrases.
Another stumbling block to enjoyable reading is the lack of logical continuity in his writing, possibly because this author struggles to articulate his thoughts in text. Here’s an example:

Occasionally, I did get stiffed on my fee and my time, But only when their pet was a dog. It was never a cat. Admittedly, it’s only a small sample on which I base my conclusion that people who are going to take advantage will do so for a dog. Maybe, to them, a cat isn’t worth the effort. I love cats, so it is sad that cats are undervalued.
p76

The logic is considerably flawed, more likely because of poor writing than a lack of reasoning abilities. In that last sentence, for example, he could have said, I love cats, so I am saddened that/when cats are undervalue. But to say “it is sad” implies that because he loves cats, that’s why it is sad cats are undervalued. Likewise with the reasoning of his paragraph – he is arguing that people do not value cats enough to call him out even when they do not intend to pay; that they love dogs enough to gyp a vet of his fees. But this does not take on board the possibility that cat owners may be more conscientious perhaps, or that dog owners are less conscientious; or perhaps intent to pay and love for the pet may well be two entirely separate and unrelated issues. MacVean’s conflating readiness to call a vet with love for pets is surely an oversimplified reading of pet owners.
In all, whether you are interested in humans or animals or both, you may want to pass on this one. This book really begs the question why good editors are in such short supply these days – that said, if this book indeed had an editor, the author may want to consider engaging a different editor if he ever wished to embark on another novel.