Kirkus
Reviews:
"A remarkable look at the injustices of the mental health and judicial
systems."
Publishers'
Weekly:
"Fischer's unhappy childhood, full of losses, developed in her
a sense of justice that led her to become a crime reporter and more
recently, a savior of suffering dogs, stealing them from abusive owners."
Court
TV:
"Fischer's recounting of problems in the criminal justice system
is as disturbing as the story of the loss of her mother is heartbreaking.
A powerful and moving story on all its fronts." Mary
Jane Stevenson, former Court TV correspondent.
San
Francisco Chronicle:
Stealing Love Confessions of a Dognapper
By Mary A. Fischer
HARMONY; 267 PAGES; $23
Dogs are one
of the universe's best creations. If you love a dog, he will love you
back, usually in a big way. That equation may be simple, but many dog
lovers treasure that very simplicity. For journalist Mary A. Fischer,
the constancy of dogs has shaped her life. An unspeakable injustice
shook her faith in human beings at a young age, but the love of dogs
has inspired her, healed her and even led her to commit a few crimes.
Her memoir, "Stealing Love: Confessions of a Dognapper," may
be billed as the story of the Robin Hood of the dog world, a woman who
steals from the cruel and gives (homes) to the innocent. But the stealing
in "Stealing Love" doesn't come until rather late in the book.
Until then, we're given a harrowing family memoir that encompasses an
institutionalized mother, a playboy father, a strict-to-the-point-of-cruelty
parochial school and the McMartin Preschool scandal.
The second daughter born to a handsome, fun-seeking father and a nurturing
mother, Fischer was enjoying an idyllic Southern California childhood,
complete with backyard pool, neighborhood barbecues and a devoted dog
named Queenie. But when she is 4 years old, her grandmother dies of
stomach cancer and her mother grieves long, hard and seemingly uncontrollably.
Is she also grieving because her husband has stopped loving her? Fischer's
father uses her grieving as an excuse to have her committed to Camarillo
State Hospital. She would not be free again for nine years.
Journalists are trained to be sharp observers who can weave together
all the messy threads of a story into a coherent whole. Fischer, who
is a National Magazine Award nominee and has written for magazines ranging
from Rolling Stone to Reader's Digest, uses her journalism-honed skills
to paint a detailed portrait of a family that falls apart. She plumbs
her own psychology as deftly as she must other subjects of her articles
and profiles. But she also does some real-world reporting, revealing
the frightening nature of life in a state mental institution in the
1950s, a world of inmate abuse, random electroshock therapy and drug
experimentation without consent.
A year after committing their mother, her father, chafing at the demands
of caring for two small girls, puts Fischer and her sister into a Catholic
boarding school. Even at the age of 10, Fischer perceived the injustice
of her plight: "Why, I wondered, did all the females in our family
have to live in institutions, and only Daddy got to live at home. But
it had been that way for so long that it had begun to feel normal."
To make matters worse, Fischer comes home for a weekend visit only to
find that her father has sent her beloved Queenie "to live on a
farm." "Love is precarious, I was learning, synonymous with
pain and endings. The more I loved someone or something, the more certain
it would be lost. ... I must accept the reality that feeling an attachment
to anything wasn't a wise course to pursue."
A person could easily become bitter and disillusioned with the world,
but for Fischer, her experiences seem to have honed her sense of injustice
and, even more important, her hunger to right the wrongs she encounters.
She gets a chance to while working for People magazine, when no one
else wants to report on the McMartin Preschool story. When it broke
in the late 1980s, everyone believed the accusations of devil worshiping
and repeated child sexual abuse. But as Fischer investigates the case,
she comes to believe that the McMartin defendants have been falsely
accused. She is galvanized by a prison interview she conducts with defendant
Ray Buckey, who says simply, "I don't belong here." More than
30 years ago, Fischer's mother had uttered the exact same words to her
at Camarillo State Hospital.
The story she wrote appeared in Los Angeles magazine (after being turned
down by many news outlets fearful of looking as if they were supporting
the monstrous acts) and helped turn the tide of public opinion.
Fischer's dognapping starts out mildly enough when she takes permanent
custody of a dog she co-owns with her sister. She becomes a great dog
owner -- fun loving, nurturing, loving. Caring for her dog seems to
transport her back to a time when she frolicked carefree with Queenie,
before her world was torn apart. When she spies a neighbor beating his
dog, her old sense of injustice kicks in and she gets into the business
of liberating canines from owners who mistreat them.
The total number of dogs she has rescued may not be large, but her commitment
to giving them a better life is huge. Through dogs, Fischer seems to
have discovered that love is not always about pain and endings, and
that with enough love and hard work, even the biggest wrongs can be
righted.
