The Dog Farm

David S. Wills

Beatdom

David S. Wills’ blog had a dedicated set of fans, but it was too much for many readers. His first novel is unlikely to change many minds.

“The Dog Farm” follows Alexander, a young Scottish graduate with a drink problem and no job, to South Korea, where he boozes his way through several sordid adventures.

This could make for a slacker comedy or a farce, but instead what we get is a portrait of the expat at his worst.

Wills’ intentions for the book appear noble enough ― the conclusion makes it clear that Alexander is someone to look down upon ― but the execution lacks the flair that would make for an enjoyable journey, and the protagonist is utterly unlikeable.

It’s not clear if Wills wants this to be a cautionary tale or a satire. It’s not funny enough for the latter and the consequences for Alexander are not grave enough for the former. Instead the main character is indulged for far too long in a sordid expose with little pay-off.

The expats described are rarely professional, to an unlikely extent. This is a shame: It might have been more interesting to see more of Karen, the feisty colleague at Alexander’s first hagwon who “cared a lot more about teaching and took a more serious approach.”

Koreans are given short shrift. The title comes from a description by the protagonist of Korea as “one big, nasty dog farm where children are raised and beaten by strangers until they are old enough to make money for their uncaring parents.”

Bigoted comments like this undermine any positive conclusion the book might have.

Part of the problem is that the interactions we see Alexander make tend to be those in which he is in a position of power ― we see him witness ridiculous tantrums, but he doesn’t suffer the humiliation of throwing them himself.

What this leads to is a confliction of sympathy. Alexander is not a completely amoral character ― he makes at least some principled stands ― but even when he is wronged it is difficult to feel for him.

The incompetent boss that appears early on, for example, is apparently meant as a character of ridicule, but it’s difficult not to side with him in the face of Alexander’s behavior.

From a wider perspective, there just aren’t enough cogs in Alexander’s spiral of self-destruction. Half the characters simply disappear while Alex spends a few weeks in Japan. This might be realistic, but it makes for a disappointing read and adds to the lack of nuance.

Some of the observation is also off ― the time scale doesn’t work and the konglish seems wrong ― but Wills deserves some credit for effectively depicting some of the problems in the hagwon industry.

He talks about arbitrary blacklisting and the “foreigners, we are watching you” signs, and astutely points out the E-2 restrictions as both protecting and exposing foreign teachers to abuse, but in the case of Wills’ reprobate teachers it’s difficult to care.

(paulkerry@heraldcorp.com)