this is one of my favorite books in all the land. i read it at least a million times when i was little, and it holds such a special place in my heart, i can't even begin to review it. having said all that, there are those who have a problem with the ending, because let's just say it's fairly devastating. so, as a band-aid to the heart of monica!, i have rewritten the ending to make it a little more jolly. with all apologies to wilson rawls, whose ending i thought was spectacular, allow me to present THE WAY Where the Red Fern Grows SHOULD HAVE ENDED. AND NOW DOES.(view spoiler)[The fourth time they treed, they were on top of a mountain. After the long chase, I figured the animal was winded and would stay in the tree. In a trot I started to them.As I neared the tree, Little Ann came to me, reared up, and whined. By her actions, I knew something was wrong. I stopped. In the moonlight, I could see Old Dan sitting on his haunches, staring up at the tree and bawling.The tree had lots of dead leaves on it. I knew it was a large white oak because it is one of the last trees in the mountains to lose its leaves.Old Dan kept bawling. Then he did something he had never done before. For seconds his deep voice was still, and silence settled over the mountains. My eyes wandered from the tree to him. His lips were curled back and he snarled as he stared into the dark foliage of the tree. His teeth gleamed white in the moonlight. The hair on his neck and along his back stood on end. A low, deep, rumbling growl rolled from his throat.I was scared and I called to him. I wanted to get away from there. Again I called, but it was no use. He wouldn't leave the tree, for in his veins flowed the breeded blood of a hunting hound. In his fighting heart, there was no fear. I set the lantern down and tightened my grip on the handle of the boombox. Slowly I started walking toward him. I thought, "If I can get close enough to him, I can grab his collar." I kept my eyes on the tree as I edged forward. Little Ann stayed by my side. She, too, was watching the tree. Then I saw them - two burning, yellow eyes - staring at me from the shadowy foliage of the tree. I stopped, petrified with fear.The deep baying of Old Dan stopped and again the silence closed in.I stared back at the unblinking eyes.I could make out the bulk of a large animal, crouched on a huge branch, close to the trunk of the big tree. Then it moved. I heard the scratch of razor-sharp hooves on the bark. It stood up and moved out of the shadows on to the limb. I saw it clearly as it passed between the moon and me. I knew what it was. It was the devil unicorn of the Ozarks.The silence was shattered by one long, loud bawl from Old Dan. I'd never heard my dog bawl like that. It was different. His voice rang out over the mountains, loud and clear. The vibration of the deep tones rolled in the silence of the frosty night, on and on, out over the flats, down in the canyons, and died away in the rimrocks like the cry of a lost soul. Old Dan had voiced his challenge to the unicorn. There was a low cough and a deep snort from the unicorn. I saw him crouch. I knew what was coming.Dance-off.My hands felt hot and sweaty on the smooth handle of the boombox. With a blood-curdling whinny he sprang from the tree with limbs outspread and long, yellow horn bared. Old Dan didn't wait. Rearing up on his hind legs, he met the unicorn in the air and busted out a smooth pop & lock. the groove rolled him over and over. He wound up in a fallen treetop.The impact of his classic moves threw the unicorn off balance. Little Ann darted in. Her aim was true. I heard the snap of her paws as she deployed a full-out Harlem Shake.With a squall of awe and rage, the unicorn spun around and began rocking his pelvis, performing some advanced booty-pops. His right hoof reached out and curved over his shoulder, in a "what you got??" taunt. Sinews tightened. Little Ann executed a pas de beurre into a jazz square blowing his mind with this bizarre combo. Old Dan, stunned for an instant from the impact of her footwork, fought his way from the treetop. Bawling the cry of the damned, he charged back in. I went berserk, and charged into the crew.There in the flinty hills of the Ozarks, I fought for the honor of my dogs. I fought with the only weapon I had - the dance.Screaming like a madman, with tears running down my face, I did the Running Man, the Cabbage Patch, the Humpty Hump at the big twerking unicorn. Once, feeling the bite of my Roger Rabbit, the unicorn turned on me. His yellow slitted eyes burned with hate. The long, lithe body dipped low to the ground. The shoulder muscles knotted and bulged as it negotiated a textbook Worm. I tried to jump back, but my foot slipped and I dropped to my knees. I knew I was trapped. With a terrifying scream he sprang - in a death-spiral pirouette. I never saw my dogs when they got between the unicorn and me, but they were there. Side by side, they rose up from the ground as one. They sailed straight into that horn of death, their small, red bodies taking the frantic krumping meant for me. I screamed and charged back into the battle, swinging my arms, but I was careful not to disrupt the groove of my dogs.The battle raged on and on, down the side of the mountain, over huckleberry bushes, fallen logs, and rocks. It was a rolling, tumbling mass of dancing fury. I was in the middle of it all, falling, screaming, crying and Crip Walking at every opportunity. I had impressed the unicorn several times. Sweat ran through its mane, but as yet I had not busted that decisive move. I knew it had to be soon for my dogs were no match against the freestyle mastery of the unicorn. The screams of the unicorn and the deep bellowing voices of my dogs echoed through the mountains as if the beat box of hell had been turned loose. Down the side of the mountain, the terrible competition went on, down to the very bottom of the canyon. The unicorn had Old Dan by the balls. Figuratively. I knew he was looking to own him with the all-important move - the moonwalk. At the pitiful bawl of Old Dan, Little Ann, throwing caution to the wind, ran in and began an uprock sequence with burns that I had never seen from her before. With her claws digging into the mountain soil, she braced herself, and started pulling. The muscles in her small legs knotted and quivered. She was trying hard to pull off a routine that would end this once and for all. In the rays of a bright Ozark moon, I could see clearly. For an instant I saw the broad back of the big unicorn. I saw the knotty bulge of steel-bound muscle, the piston-like jerk of the deadly hind legs, trying for the moonwalk that could disembowel a dog. Again, figuratively. Raising the boombox high over my head, like John Cusack, I blasted a beat I knew would inspire Ann to funktastery. My aim was true. The beats cleaved through the tension. They seemed to hiss as they sliced their way through the dancers. Ann began to spin, faster and faster. The unicorn broke eye contact with Old Dan. With a scream of pain, he reared up on his hind legs and started pawing at the air. But it was too late. Ann was in the zone. Her eyes were shut tight and her small feet were digging and clawing in the dirt. All of a sudden, she began to levitate, rising high in the air. Her long, red body sailed and twirled in between the hooves of the gasping unicorn.The unicorn screamed again. Sweat gurgled and sprayed. In a rainbow-colored mist, it rained out over the underbrush and rattled like sleet on the white oak leaves.In a boxer's stance, he stood and clawed at the air. His slitted eyes turned green with hate. He seemed to be unaware that the battle was over, and kept staring at me. I stood in a trance and stared back at Little Ann's vertical ascent. The expectation of triumph was slowly leaving him. He had been schooled but was refusing to go down. My boombox continued to churn out fat beats. A shudder ran through his body. He tried once again to moonwalk. But it was too late. It was the end of the trail for the scourge of the dance. No more would he scream his challenge from the rimrocks to the valley below. The small, harmless calves and the young colts would be safe from his Boogaloo. He fell toward me. It seemed that with his last effort he was still trying to step to me. And then, abruptly, his hooves struck the ground. With a final snort, he tossed his mane in defeat, and slitted his eyes at the still-spinning, still-levitating Little Ann. Scowling at each of us in turn, he whinnied as if to say, "You win this one, but this is not over! For realz," and galloped off into the frosty darkness.Ann's rotations began to slow as she corkscrewed down to the ground again. Panting, Old Dan ran to her and sniffed her all over, his tail wagging furiously. I lowered the boombox, pressed the "Stop" button, and the sounds of the forest returned in the ensuing calm. "Well, that was close!" I declared as Little Ann and Old Dan wrapped up their olfactory celebration. They turned to me with great doggie grins, their tails red blurs behind them."Who wants kibbles?" I asked my beloved pets.And then the three of us lived forever and ever and ever the end. (hide spoiler)]
I loved chatting over email with Amy Schimler about her dog Beans (see yesterday's interview), and it got me thinking about my favorite dog book of all time. We had to read Where the Red Fern Grows in 5th grade, and I have to admit I was completely dismayed that we had to read a "boy book." I struggled the whole time to distance myself from Billy, Old Dan, and Little Ann, probably flipping my permed hair and muttering "this is *so* stupid" and "who cares about a couple of dumb dogs?" under my breath about 20 times. But I remember sobbing at the end. Despite all my efforts, Wilson Rawls managed to draw me in to his story and make me care. How could you not?Years later, Kevin and I drove cross-country and listened to Where the Red Fern Grows on audio book (*expertly* read by Anthony Heald I have to say). This time, with a fresh MFA under my belt, I listened to the language and storytelling. And I won't mince words: the book is a masterpiece. A classic coming of age story, told from the point of view of the adult looking back at his boyhood, but with all the intimacy and honesty and exuberance of youth. It's a story with joy, peril, hard truths. It's a story we can all relate to, even if we never had dogs or lived in the Ozarks or went hunting in our lives. It's a story about growing up.I won't say more. Just go read it. Even if you're all "grown up" like me and you've read it before. Read it quietly to yourself in an afternoon, listen to the audio book, or read it aloud to a child. Get lost in the story. Cry at the end. It's worth it."When I left my office that beautiful spring day, I had no idea what was in store for me. To begin with, everything was too perfect for anything unusual to happen. It was one of those days when a man feels good, feels like speaking to his neighbor, is glad to live in a country like ours, and proud of his government. You know what I mean, one of those rare days when everything is right and nothing is wrong." (the opening lines of Where the Red Fern Grows)This review appeared on my blog, Please Come Flying.
Do You like book Where The Red Fern Grows (2000)?
This book can easily be the best book i have ever read. The book is about a young boy you wants to buy a pair of hunting dogs, but does not have enough money. After a while he saves enough and buys them, and names the dogs Big Dan and Little Ann. The book is great for many people becasue you can relate youself to the characters no matter who you are. The story flows very easily and reads very well. This book is one of those kinds of books that once you start, you just cant put it down, and you keeps wanting to know what happens next. The story goes into so much detail and emotion and thats one of the biggest reasons why I liked it so much. The emotions are very mixed as well, its not like the whole story is sad, or happy, it keeps changing, and thats why it is very interesting. Billy was a round character of the story as the whole book is about him and his life. You truly get to understand how Billy feels and what kind of person he is. The mood of this story is very difficult to narrow down becasue the feelings of this book change so much. But out of it all, I would say the mood is happiness. The theme of this book would probably be love because it goes into so much detail of how Billy loves his dogs and how much he enjoys hunting with them.This book is easily the best book I have ever read. Most bokos I have read have not even come close to this. If there are just 5 books to read before you die, this would definatly be one of them. After you are done reading this I hope you go and read this book!
—Evan
When I was a kid I always wanted a dog but my father never agreed to it and so I can say that I sympathise with Billy.This book is a remarkable tale about love,loyalty and loss.It is the story of Billy and his two hounds Little Ann and Dan who help and protect Billy at every point.This book tells the Heartbreaking story of child's love for his pets and the pets loyalty towards not only Billy but each other.This book is a good read for I think people of all age and not just children.“After the last shovel of dirt was patted in place, I sat down and let my mind drift back through the years. I thought of the old K. C. Baking Powder can, and the first time I saw my pups in the box at the depot. I thought of the fifty dollars, the nickels and dimes, and the fishermen and blackberry patches.I looked at his grave and, with tears in my eyes, I voiced these words: "You were worth it, old friend, and a thousand times over.” “I buried Little Ann by the side of Old Dan. I knew that was where she wanted to be. I also buried a part of my life along with my dog.” This is the type of book that even after reading it stays with for a very long time.Everyone can learn something from this book.This book shows us that even animals have feeling and even animals can love us deeply and sacrifice their lives for us.“I had heard the old Indian legend about the red fern. How a little Indian boy and girl were lost in a blizzard and had frozen to death. In the spring, when they were found, a beautiful red fern had grown up between their two bodies. The story went on to say that only an angel could plant the seeds of a red fern, and that they never died; where one grew, that spot was sacred.” Billy belonged to a poor family and he wanted to have two hounds as pets but his father couldn't afford to buy them.So for two years Billy worked hard and saved every dime to buy two dogs whom he named Ann and Dan.this shows that if we work very hard with determination we too can achieve our dreams.Billy came to love his dogs a lot and they loved him a lot too.Soon this remarkable trio was off having some sort of adventures every time.The story is well written and if flows smoothly.Though there are instances of violence,this book is really good and I think a must read book specially if you love animals!
—Shilpa bagla
This book belongs on that special list of YA books that stay with you for the rest of your life. You remember them, remember how they changed your perspective, how they made you feel, and how they helped you grow up. This book in particular belongs at the top of that list for me, right alongside Bridge to Terebithia, and I consider it a mandatory title for anyone who is in the process of growing up. Clear as a bell I remember the night I finished it, right before (or quite after, as was more likely) my bedtime, and how I sobbed my eyes out in a way I didn't do again for fifteen years or so until I read the Time Traveler's Wife, then flipped back, reread the last chapter or so, and bawled again. I have never forgotten Old Dan and Little Ann, what they did for each other, and what they did for the narrator. There are many coming of age books that deal with death, particularly with animals (I'm recalling Beauty, A Dog Called Kitty, Old Yeller, etc.), and for others some of those titles might be the one that comes to mind first today, but this was it for me.
—Swaps55
