I’m not sure the Monday book is returning as a regular feature, but this book is a hoot. I got it out of the library in a whim while asking for an interlibrary loan.

Toto is, if you were wondering, a novel. It’s written from, you guessed it, Toto’s point of view. And Toto is the most sarcastic, entitled, bemused, cynical little dog you ever met. He’s hysterical. If you took all the traits of toxic masculinity and excessive entitlement, and put them into a cute little scruffy dog, it would be Toto. What would be annoying to deal with in real life is somehow adorable in a wee dug (Scottish for dog, sorry) with a lot to say, except nobody has been listening before.

Take this paragraph on the opening page: … when a gang of grown men in shorts and suspenders and holding candy cane clubs stepped forward and started serenading Dorothy about a league of traditional masculinity and men’s rights, I was inclined to slow fade into the bushes. I don’t care if they call themselves something cute like the “Tartpatch Gang.” Take it from a dog who has accomplished many calculated hijinks with his stirling reputation intact–you can get away with a lot of terrible shit when you’re small and cute.

As you call tell, this novel combines the movie and the book for best comedic effect. Also, Toto drops a fair few F bombs along with some earthier words. Finally, Toto–oh ok, Hackwith–is not writing beautiful sentences, just telling a story. Words repeat, things are choppy. It sounds, more or less, like a smart dog who has not benefited from proper English classes.

Not gonna tell you anything about the ending of course; if you want to cut through a little of the sugary sweetness this Christmas, take a chance on Toto. Just don’t even think about reading this to your kids.

An enthusiastic two paws up!