THE DOLPHIN HOUSE

A woman navigates life in 1960s America, finding her way while interacting with dolphins in a scientific-research project.

In 1965, hearing-impaired Cora is a waitress in a Florida club, one in which her tight-fitting bunny costume includes ears and a tail. While using her earnings to pay off new hearing aids that “masqueraded as cat-eye glasses,” Cora manages a tricky situation nicely until, that is, one man’s wandering hands wander a little too far. Then, inspired by a sign for South Pacific, she buys a one-way ticket to St. Thomas, where she crosses paths with Dr. Blum, a research scientist studying dolphins. In the water with the mammals, Cora discovers a wonderful new angle to her world: she can “hear” the dolphins spectacularly underwater—and they respond to her, too. As she wins their trust, the scene is set for a tale that’s both inspiring and ghastly—Blum is conducting physical research on the dolphins, after all—but the relationship between Cora and the mammals is joyfully detailed and a pleasure to follow. Schulman builds a lovely picture of the growth of mutual trust and enjoyment among the dolphins and Cora as she works to train the sea mammals to communicate linguistically with humans. Given the time frame, casual sexism is par for the course on the part of Blum and his male colleagues. The men are most likely to be found glued to the television, iced cocktails in hand, but that just leaves Cora more space to interact with the dolphins. She develops Blum’s research processes, educates herself by reading Blum’s science books, and even challenges him. Then, when Cora moves into a purpose-built homearium with one of the dolphins, the situation takes an intriguing turn.

Both woman and dolphins come to vivid life in this fascinating and beautifully realized novel.