Winkie is the first novel by Clifford Chase (unfortunately clicking the links doesn’t provide you with a whole lot of information).

The plot is rather simple and not simple at all: A teddy bear, Winkie, comes to life after spending generations with the family Chase. He goes to live in the woods, he gets a child, which disappears and during his griefing, he gets arrested and charged with over 9000 offenses, including terrorism, witchcraft and impersonating a woman.

The novel alternates between telling Winkie’s life story and showing us the Kafka-esque trial. Seemingly in passing, Chase touches subjects like gender, homosexuality, family, loneliness, conscious(ness), civil (dis)obidience and what it means to be human, all the while never losing a sense of humour.

It’s a wonderful read. It’s funny, touching and, especially for a first novel, just great. Winkie, the little wise and strangely naive bear will stay with you for quite a while and then a little longer.

Judge for yourself:

[Winkie just got shot, arrested and brought to the hospital.]
In the big gray hospital, the doctors could only play at treating Winkie. They huddled around X-rays that showed only his metal parts–eye sockets, joints, squeaker. They murmured strings of complicated words. The nurses pretended to draw blood and the lab sent back readings of air. It reminded everyone pleasantly of their medical training, when they practiced only on dolls and cadavers, and nothing much was at stake. The bear was carted around on gurneys and “hooked up” to various tubes and machines. At least once a day, detecting no breath and no pulse, they administered CPR, then electric shocks. “Clear!” they yelled, and Winkie got the jolt. “No response. Clear!”
The shocks were thrilling, but the bear tried not to make a peep. Just when the doctors and nurses seemed to have lost all hope, when they were about to pronounce the time of death, Winkie would begin quietly singing, “Beep…beep…beep…”
His imitation of a heart monitor was poor, but that wasn’t the point. One by one the medical personnel lifted their heads in joy. Winkie liked this part of the game best. “You’ve done it again, doctor!” a pretty nurse might say. “Saving lives is my job,” a handsome doctor would reply.
Actually it was the cleaning woman, Françoise, who had discovered the bullet holes in Winkie, one in front, one in back, and she had the good sense simply to sew them up with a needle and thread that she kept with her cleaning supplies.