The Beloved Dearly

by Doug Cooney Narrated by Doug Cooney

Overview

Ernie Castellano, fast-talking wheeler-dealer kid, has come up with his greatest idea yet: pet funerals! With his pals Dusty (an artist in coffins) and Swimming Pool (one of the world's great criers, an asset to any funeral she attends) Ernie creates a thriving business-and manages to land himself in more hot water than he has ever dreamed of. High-spirited, hilarious, and unexpectedly touching, The Beloved Dearly is a sparkling debut for a major new voice in books for young readers. An actor and performance artist himself, Doug Cooney is uniquely suited to narrate this hilarious novel version of his own highly acclaimed play, which was first performed at Lincoln Center. Doug's recent work includes a screenplay for an animated version of the classic Dr. Seuss film The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

Cooney recasts his stage play of the same name as a debut novel featuring a funny, offbeat premise. When Ernie Castellano is busted at school for one of his get-rich-quick schemes hawking cheeseburgers on mystery meat day he's grounded. The discovery of an empty lot proves irresistible to the young entrepreneur, however, and soon he's sneaking behind his father's back to start a pet funeral business. With the help of a handful of employees, including a scruffy nine-year-old artist who makes the caskets, and Swimming Pool, a professional mourner who can cry on demand, business is soon booming. But Ernie grows increasingly dictatorial and estranged from his new friends, and not until the death of his own dog does he learn there's more to value in life than cold hard cash. Cooney's background as a playwright is evident in the tight arc of the story and in the snappy dialogue. Some of the zaniness has an edge of forced hilarity, and some characters are cliched including the fast-talking Ernie ("Tell Mom and Dad you're going to a movie, you need the popcorn, score the ten bucks, and give little Frisky the send-off he deserves"). But the themes are credibly developed and the ending in particular has emotional resonance. This is a likable story with solid appeal. Ages 8-12. (Feb.) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.

Publishers Weekly

A young entrepreneur known for his get-rich-quick schemes uses an empty parking lot to start a pet funeral business in what PW called "a likeable story with solid appeal." Ages 8-12. (Aug.) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

School Library Journal

Gr 4-7-Twelve-year-old Ernie Castellano is a real wheeler and dealer. After getting busted again at school for his plan for making big bucks (previous plans included selling booger insurance and used homework), his father tells him no more business schemes are allowed. However, Ernie spots an empty lot that would make a perfect cemetery and starts a pet funeral business. He hires Dusty, who enthusiastically decorates theme caskets for animals. Ernie also hires Swimming Pool, a tomboy who is trying to deal with her older brother leaving home due to family tensions. A number of successful funerals ensue as Ernie becomes increasingly hard-hearted toward his employees and customers. His callousness causes Swimming Pool to quit, while Dusty tries to repair the trio's friendship. It isn't until Ernie's elderly pet, Mr. Doggie, dies and the funeral business is discovered by his dad that Ernie begins to comprehend that there are more important things than making money. The language, tone, and plotting of the novel by Doug Cooney (S&S, 2002) is reminiscent of children's books of the 1950's. The only indication that this is a contemporary story is the mention of Ernie's cell phone. The touching ending occurs too quickly, not allowing listeners time to sufficiently enjoy Ernie's change of heart. In this full cast recording, Doug Cooney narrates. Carmen Viviano-Crafts does an effective job as Swimming Pool, Ryan Sparkes voices an endearing Dusty, and Spencer Murphy as Ernie is appropriately smarmy and brisk. This audiobook will be enjoyed by middle graders looking for humor and unusually snappy dialogue.-B. Allison Gray, South Country Library, Bellport, NY Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Recast from a prizewinning stage production, this patchy tale of a young entrepreneur has a satiric edge that will play better to adult audiences. Ever on the lookout for moneymaking opportunities, young Ernie Castellano hits paydirt when he converts an empty lot into a pet cemetery. Thanks to some high pressure sales tactics, plus a hired staff than includes Dusty, a nerdy but loyal artist with a genius for turning junk into elaborately decorated coffins; Swimming Pool, quaintly introduced as a "tomboy," who discovers an innate talent for feeling a bereaved pet owner's pain; and Tony, a "scrappy" eight-year-old boy-with-a-shovel, the funeral biz is soon booming. It's not hard to see this show's theatrical roots in the thoroughly typecast characters and in snappy, Little Rascals-style dialogue (Tony: " ‘It's not complicated. When I got a gig, I gotta dig. That's my motto. I'm an independent contractor' ") that Cooney's interpolated narrative passages only serve to slow down. Most of all there's a string of stagy set pieces that end with Ernie and his Dad both grieving in the wake of Ernie's Mom's death from cancer, growing closer by decorating the grave of the family dog together. Young readers are unlikely to give this a standing ovation, but the broadly brushed comedy and sentiment may draw an occasional chuckle or tear. (Fiction. 10-12)

From the Publisher

School Library Journal Witty, clever, yet touching...

Booklist Something kids won't have seen before.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940171725631
Publisher:	Full Cast Audio
Publication date:	01/01/2002
Edition description:	Unabridged
Age Range:	8 - 11 Years

Read an Excerpt

Chapter Four: Get to Work

The first thing that Ernie wrote down in his game plan was the word employees.

He scrawled it in his notebook under the heading Things to Do and he marked it with a star. If Ernie was going to make this project happen, he needed help. The lot was a mess. He couldn't do it all by himself. He needed employees for the dirty work. Ernie thought and thought -- and really only one kid came to mind.

Dusty. The strange kid from three doors down.

After his mom died, Ernie had transferred from the Catholic school across town -- which was his mom's alma mater -- back to the public school in his own neighborhood. "Gotta cut back somewhere," his dad said, meaning the tuition. Ernie didn't mind, except he didn't actually know the kids in his own neighborhood, so all the kids at his new school were basically strangers.

The next afternoon, Ernie tracked down Dusty. He found him leaning over a patch of wet cement in the sidewalk. Ernie ducked behind a tree to see what Dusty was up to.

As Ernie watched, Dusty reached into a large cardboard box beside him and raised an old china plate into the air.

Ernie could never have predicted what happened next.

Dusty smashed the plate against the curb so hard that it shattered into pieces. Then he calmly sifted through the shards until he had selected one particular chip.

Dusty studied the piece closely, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. After some careful thought, he tossed it aside.

When Dusty finally found a shard that was satisfactory, he leaned over the wet cement and carefully pressed the chip into position. For several minutes, he worked in this slow and careful manner.

"This could take forever," Ernie said to himself.

When Dusty was finally done, he sat back to admire his creation. Of course, Ernie had edged closer behind a hedge so that he could see what Dusty was doing. Poking his head through the branches, Ernie saw an elaborate mosaic in the wet cement depicting an intergalactic space battle in wild cartoon colors.

Ernie was impressed. Very impressed.

Unfortunately, a moment later, a boot smashed down right into the middle of the wet cement; a boot belonging to Dion, the neighborhood bully. Dion was a nightmare and a constant threat. Everyone kept wishing he would either grow up or move away. Until that happened, there wasn't much that anyone could do about Dion.

As Dion trampled the wet cement, Dusty flailed helplessly to protect his mosaic.

"Quit! Stop it!"

"Biff! Poweee! Socko! Ooooff!" Dion barked as he stomped.

Ernie ducked inside the hedge. It felt a little cowardly, but Ernie was one to pick his battles wisely.

"Stop! You ruined it!" Dusty cried, pretty much stating the obvious. It was kind of pathetic.

"What are you gonna do, Freakazoid?" Dion snarled.

When the deed was done, Dion charged down the sidewalk. And indeed, the mosaic was demolished. Dusty sat back on his heels, splattered with cement, too wounded to speak, too hurt to cry.

At that moment, a shadow arched over the ruined mosaic. Dusty winced into the sunlight to see who it was.

No surprise here. It was Ernie.

Ernie squatted beside the wet cement and said, "Sweet while it lasted, huh, kid?" He ran his hand over the remnants and continued, "Clever, inventive. Got a sense of humor. And the old plates keep your costs down."

Ernie brushed his hands off and held one out for a handshake. "Good work, kid," he said. "I been looking for a kid like you. Name's Ernie."

"Dusty," said Dusty, wiping off his palm and shaking Ernie's hand.

"Oh, I know your name, all right," said Ernie.

Dusty was bewildered. Nobody in the neighborhood had ever talked to him this way before. They usually just acted as though he was weird.

"I need boxes," Ernie announced with a sense of purpose. "Well, not just boxes. More like boxes for a funeral, say."

"For a funeral?" Dusty asked, completely confused. "You mean, you need a coffin?"

"I prefer the word...sarcophagus," Ernie said with relish. "It's Egyptian. But never mind about that. Got a minute? I got a proposition for you."

And that was how Ernie and Dusty came to be friends.

It was Dusty who tipped Ernie off to Tony. "Look for the kid with the shovel," is what he said. "You can't miss him."

On Dusty's recommendation, Ernie found himself leaning against a lemonade stand late in the afternoon.

Looking across the street, Ernie saw a scrappy little boy, about seven or eight, and sure enough he was flinging a great big shovel, almost twice his size. That must be Tony, he thought.

Tony patted down a freshly filled hole and wiped his brow. With the job done, Tony squinted across the street at the lemonade stand and headed in that direction. He dragged the shovel on the pavement behind him and it made an awful sound.

Ernie arranged himself at the counter so that he looked all nonchalant.

Tony arrived and gestured at the Sweaty Lemonade Girl behind the counter. "Hit me with the usual," he said.

Sweaty Lemonade Girl snapped back, "Move along, Stinky. You scare away the customers." She pinched her fingers over her nose and stuck out her tongue.

Tony balked. "Hey," he cried, all indignant and offended, and why shouldn't he be?

Ernie cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. Tony was stinky -- but Sweaty Lemonade Girl was no prize either. Clearly, he thought, Sweaty Lemonade Girl has no idea how to run a business.

Ernie tossed a few coins on the counter. "Put that one on me," he said.

Sweaty Lemonade Girl eyed the coins and begrudgingly poured a glass of lemonade for Tony. She put it on the counter and scooped up the change.

"Thanks, mister," the kid said, turning toward Ernie. "Name's Tony."

"Ernie, here. Pretty good with a shovel, kid," said Ernie.

"I try," said Tony with a shrug.

Ernie leaned in confidentially and lowered his voice so that Sweaty Lemonade Girl couldn't overhear. "I'm looking for somebody to dig a few holes," he said. "You interested?"

Tony looked both ways and back across the counter. Sweaty Lemonade Girl pursed her lips and arched her eyebrows as if she was suddenly all interested in Tony's business.

Tony turned his back to the counter and perched against his elbows. He tilted his head toward Ernie and answered, "Depends." He knocked back his lemonade, crumpled the cup, and chucked it over the counter.

"Hey!" Sweaty Lemonade Girl grumbled with annoyance. As she bent over to pick up the cup, Tony leaned in confidentially against Ernie and whispered, "What do I have to bury?"

Over the next week, Ernie had Tony and Dusty working like dogs on the empty lot. Tony hacked through the undergrowth with a huge pair of hedge clippers he had borrowed from his dad. Dusty spent the afternoon hauling all manner of debris to the curb.

When the shrubs and trees were clipped back, Tony showed up with his dad's Weedwacker and carefully cut the grass until it was as smooth as a golf course's. Ernie tried to take a crack at the Weed-wacker himself, but Tony held him off.

"Forget it, Mr. Castellano," Tony said, "this is a job for a professional."

When the yard was finally cleaned up, they set about making improvements. And that was when Dusty went to town.

Dusty's first idea was to scavenge through the neighborhood for discarded plants and potted mums. He showed up with a red wagon full of wilted plants, mostly with dead blossoms.

Tony took one look at the wagon and said, "Who died?"

"I don't know about this, Dusty," said Ernie. "Those flowers look kind of ragged and pathetic."

"Give 'em time, Boss," Dusty insisted. "They'll look better in time."

Dusty replanted the flowers around the base of the trees. After a little sunlight and a little water, Ernie had to agree with Dusty. The flowers didn't look bad at all.

Pretty soon, they were all coming up with great ideas like that.

Tony had found a slightly trashed trestle in the alley and dragged it into the lot. "I figure, fix the broken slats with a couple nails, slap on a fresh coat of paint," Tony said, "it'll be like brand new."

And it pretty much was. When the paint had dried, Dusty tugged overgrown vines from the fence and laced them through the trestle, hoping they would grow.

As he was weaving the vines, Ernie arrived with a broken piano bench he'd found on the curb. He placed it below the trestle. "It'll be a place for quiet reflection," he said.

"That's just what I was thinking," Dusty agreed.

Ernie remembered an aluminum picnic table in the basement that they never used anymore. It had belonged to his mom before he was born. He and Tony carried the picnic table upstairs and hauled it down the alley. They positioned it on the back side of the lot and moved it five different times until Dusty decided that it was in the right spot.

Meanwhile, Dusty was scouring the neighborhood for big, flat rocks. He covered the picnic table with newspaper and spent the afternoon painting the rocks all sorts of different colors. "It's like painting Easter eggs," he said, "only much much bigger."

When Dusty was done, they laid the painted rocks in a winding trail across the lawn. It was backbreaking work -- but after he put the last rock in place, Tony looked at Ernie and nodded in favor. Ernie smiled. "The place is looking good," he told Tony. "I tell you, that Dusty, he's got a million ideas."

For the crowning touch, Dusty climbed on Ernie's shoulders to crawl into the tallest tree on the lot. Clinging to the overhead branches, Dusty hung that wind chime he'd been working on. It was made out of those wire hangers, and he had added lots of discarded silverware, hammered flat.

Every time a breeze brushed through the tree, the wind chime clanked and clattered and sent a strange little tune into the air.

All in all, they had turned the old abandoned lot into a lovely little garden.

Only nobody knew.

Text copyright © 2002 by Doug Cooney

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