"The life of a good dog is like the life of a good person, only shorter, more compressed. Beau started off wild and crazy. My most enduring memory of his youth is of him galloping around the yard, purloined needlepoint yarn streaming from his mouth. One summer he was skunked three times and spent weeks studded with spines after indulging his taste for advanced decomposition by rolling on a dead porcupine. He did not learn to swim until he realized it was the only way to keep geese off the pond." If you ever loved a dog, you will adore Anna Quindlen's heartwarming memoir of her black Labrador Beau. If you like Quindlen's writings, you will cherish it even more.

Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist and novelist Quindlen has recently met with tremendous success in the realm of short nonfiction with an inspirational and motivational bent. Recounting the life and death of her beloved Labrador retriever, Beau, she follows the same pattern. Quindlen masters a calm, thoughtful radio-essay style of delivery that nicely fits the introspective nature of her material, which includes some powerful ruminations on aging and mortality. Yet as a 45-minute stand-alone offering, the recording lacks the weight of a dramatic center, since Quindlen devotes such a large chunk of the fleeting allotment of time to setting the stage on the front end and offering reflection in conclusion. Somehow, it seems as though a two-for-one arrangement similar to the 2005 audiobook release pairing Quindlen's Being Perfectand A Short Guide to a Happy Lifemight have allowed for a broader and more fully realized sense of her unique gift for deeply personalized narrative. Simultaneous release with the Random House hardcover. (Nov.)

Anna Quindlen celebrates the visceral love we feel for our canine companions, specifically, her recently deceased Labrador retriever, Beau. Known to many for her NEWSWEEK political and business columns, Quindlen infuses this brief essay with feeling instead of fact. Her broad New Jersey accent caresses the memories of Beau’s 15 years with his people, and the lessons each taught the other. When the time comes for the family to ease his walk to the Rainbow Bridge, we hear the tears in Quindlen’s heart, as well as in her voice. Caution: Do not listen to this in public unless you have a heart of ice or don’t mind people watching you cry out loud. R.L.L. © AudioFile 2008, Portland, Maine