When I was five, I wanted to be an artist. I was crazy about drawing. When I wasn't fighting with my sibs over something, you'd likely find me holed away, either reading or drawing. My dad was an artist, you see. Sure, running that liquor store in the ghetto was what paid the bills, but it was firmly stamped in my six-year-old mind that he was meant for a higher calling. I mean, look at the gallon of milk he painted on the side of the store. Was it not the perfect rendering of a gallon of milk? You could practically see the condensation beginning to form because it had been out of the fridge for too long.Dad always promised me art lessons, but between running a liquor store in the ghetto and trying to keep three kids fed, clothed, and academically successful, there was no time for a primer in the correct usage of watercolors.To this day, I still hate watercolors. I don't get how you keep all the colors from running together into a soupy, brown mess.Then, when I was eight, I decided that I wanted to be an astronaut. The Challenger shuttle exploded that year and, somehow, instead of filling me with fear, it made me admire the bravery of the team who had hurtled unafraid into the beyond. I shushed everyone if there was ever any news about NASA on TV. I made my parents rent Space Camp. I devoured books about space travel, including the movie novelization of Space Camp and a Choose Your Own Adventure book about traveling to Jupiter. I still remember to this day that Jupiter has rings like Saturn and many moons, of which the four largest are Europa, Callisto, Ganymede, and Io.But I always knew in the back of my mind that this was a pipe dream. Besides, I'd read that you had to be incredibly physically fit to be an astronaut, and I always got a B in PE.So, come seventh grade, I was in the market for a new dream. And that's when I discovered James Herriot. I was at a church camp the summer before seventh grade. I hadn't brought much reading material with me, and I saw an older girl reading a book with a picture of a man with a dog on it. I asked her if I could borrow it when she was finished and, the next night, she handed it over.I burned through that book like nobody's business. I read it more than I read my Bible at that church camp (for the record, God didn't save me until a good four years later). When I gave it back to the girl at the end of camp, I'd torn the back cover and cried pretty much all over it.That book was... not All Creatures Great and Small. It was James Herriot's Dog Stories, a collection of Herriot's dog stories from his first four books. I'd always loved dogs, and my heart had broken when Tootsie, our beloved Miniature Schnauzer, died at the early age of two. Reading this Scottish vet's account of his life in the English countryside set my dog-loving little heart afire and I instantly decided two things: that I needed to get a dog right away and that I was going to be a vet when I grew up. It probably didn't help that the owners of our campsite also bred Collies. I instantly fell in love with the dogs, and when I wasn't reading that book, I was helping Mary Sadler brush and feed and walk her magnificent Collies. On the last night of church camp, people prayed all night, weeping over their sins. I sobbed my heart out, too... because I couldn't bear the thought of leaving those wonderful dogs.But the minute we got home, I resolved to return to the library and check out every single book they had by James Herriot. And that brings us back to the book at hand.All Creatures Great and Small was James Herriot's first book. A country vet, he didn't know the first thing about writing, but he was an avid reader, and his wife goaded him into finally taking action. This book covers his arrival in Darrowby and his initiation into the ways and lifestyle of the farmers in the Yorkshire Dales. He writes with an intuitive knack for description, and his sparkling humor brings his stories to life.His stories aren't just about animals and his veterinary practice. They're also about his friendship with his boss, the eccentric Siegfried Farnon, and Siegfried's irrepressible younger brother, Tristan. They're about his infatuation with a local woman, and his bumbling attempts to woo her. They're about the quiet strength, stubbornness, and kindness of the people of the Yorkshire Dales. James Herriot's stories are an homage to the people who adopted him into their midst, and a love song to the place that shaped them into who they are.They're so funny that you'll find yourself snorting with stifled laughter at three in the morning. And, the next minute, you'll be sobbing uncontrollably at the pathos of a particularly touching tale.One of the best things about Herriot's books is that each chapter reads like its own short story, so you can always find a place to stop if you need to. You're not itching to know what happens next, but you still can't wait to pick it up again. Herriot's humor and vivacious writing make All Creatures Great and Small a page-turner. It's an absolute must-read for animal lovers.As for me, I abandoned my dream of becoming a veterinarian during my first year at UCI, when it dawned on me that I hated all of my science classes and wasn't good at any of them. But Herriot left a mark on me still. Instead of leaving a void where my dream used to be, his writing planted a seed. As "what do you want to be when you grow up?" began to morph into "what are you going to do when you graduate?" I decided to declare English Literature as my major. I wanted to become a writer. And, now, I am one. And I'm barely surviving on the little money I make. Living the dream, y'all. And, while the money sucks, I've never been happier. James Herriot would approve.
OK, I admit it. More than once as I was reading this collection, the words of Kramer (yes, that Kramer) popped into my head: “Oh, I’ll take a vet over an MD any day. They’ve got to be able to cure a lizard, a chicken, a pig, a frog—all on the same day.” And for more than 50 years, in the Yorkshire Dales of northern England, that’s exactly what James Herriot did. (Well, maybe not the frogs. But pigs and cows and sheep and horses and dogs, yes.) All Creatures Great and Small is the first in his loosely autobiographical series about life as a rural veterinary surgeon. It’s a gentle, warm, sometimes heartbreaking and often hilarious book—in short, a book with a whole lot of heart. Not every story ends happily for the animals, but even when the outcome is sad, Herriot has the ability to search out an element of redemption. The pages are filled with unforgettable characters, keen observations about human and animal life (and the connections between animals and their humans), and magnificent descriptions of the English countryside—the kind of sentences that make you want to stop and stay awhile. There’s no doubt Herriot’s second calling was the pen; he was a masterful storyteller. I tabbed so many pages with passages to remember that I would have been about as well off tabbing the pages without them. A few favorites … “We liked to do the operations in the open; it was cleaner and if the horse was wild he stood less chance of injuring himself. We just hoped for a fine morning and today we were lucky. In the early haze I looked over the countless buttercups; the field was filled with them and it was like sitting in a shimmering yellow ocean.” “The case was simple enough—a cow with an infected eye—but the farm was in a village high up the Dale, and when we finished, it was dusk. I felt good, and everything seemed to stand out, clear and meaningful. The single, empty, grey stone street, the last red streaks in the sky, the dark purple of the enclosing fells. There was no wind, but a soft breath came from the quiet moors, sweet and fresh and full of promise. Among the houses, the thrilling smell of wood smoke was everywhere.” “I can’t think of anything in my working life that has given me more pleasure than standing in that pen directing the life-saving jet [of water] and watching the bull savouring it. He liked it on his face best and as I worked my way up from the tail and along the steaming back he would turn his nose full into the water, rocking his head from side to side and blinking blissfully.” (How I loved this image!) “Through May and early June my world became softer and warmer. The cold wind dropped and the air, fresh as the sea, carried a faint breath of the thousands of wild flowers which speckled the pastures. At times it seemed unfair that I should be paid for my work; for driving out in the early morning with the fields glittering under the first pale sunshine and the wisps of mist still hanging on the high tops.” Seriously, since when do veterinarians write that way? The rest of the series is already on my TBR list ...______________________________________*I received a copy of this book through a GoodReads First Reads giveaway.*
Do You like book All Creatures Great And Small (2014)?
My uncle had such a harried schedule and such uncertain breaks that he too often couldn't indulge his love of reading at work. He carried these books to work because you could read a chapter in five minutes--then go on to the next chapter hours later with no loss of continuity.He also loved the tv version, though he was getting a bit hard of hearing by the time I lived in his house, and often needed a translator at hand for the Yorkshire dialect. If I were recommending, I'd recommend both. I don't have a very good visual imagination, and the landscapes in the tv show are very good illustrations. There's also a good coffee-table book called "James Herriot's Yorkshire". On the other hand, I don't remember bits like a farmer telling Herriot "Mister, your brakes aren't ower savage" in the tv version--but maybe I just missed that one.Early in this genesis book, Herriot expresses astonishment by describing something as 'one for the diary'. Reading these detailed anecdotes composed years after the fact (the first edition came out in 1972, though the first date in the book is 1937), I have to conclude that either Herriot kept quite a copious diary, or that he had a phenomenal memory. Perhaps both.These books are not only warm stories written by a careful and loving observer. They're also very good historical material. The ability to convey what it was like to live in the Yorkshire Dales and Fells in the period, and to make such points as that large domestic animals are not substantially less dangerous than large 'wild' animals is rare and rightfully valued. And as someone who came into the area while major changes were occuring, the Scottish urbanite Herriot is probably one of the best observers of what was very good, and what was terrible, of a life that had changed little since the 'pacifications' of the Normans--but was changing rapidly, even far back into the Pennines, in this pivotal period.
—Valerie
I had always been curious about this book, because there was such a great fuss over it that persisted well into my life (it was written shortly before I was born). Well, the fuss is all true - this is one of the best books I have ever read - an autobiography, technically, about a simple man who loves his job. Not only is he a good author, but he is perhaps the best observer of people I have ever seen - he can make 20 english farmers all seem different. I laughed frequently - his descriptive skills were amazing - and cried more than once. Truly a book that will still be around 100 years from now.
—Zoe
I can't remember how old I was when I read James Herriot for the first time. It must have been late elementary school or middle school. What I do remember is the burning desire it fostered in me (and in probably every other child who reads it) to be a vet. James Herriot adored his life, and his passion pours through in his simple, straightforward, but absorbing, storytelling. It was recently, standing beside (and filming) one of our vets as he put his arm to the shoulder up the back ends of a stream of Przewalski's horses (and I discovered that vets now wear scrubs and very long gloves rather than stripping to the waist) that I realized it was time for a reread. These books age perfectly, in that they age not at all. Reading them now I am no longer seized by the urge to run out and apply to veterinary school. Rather, I'm grateful for my own occupation. But the stories, the characters, and the puzzles of Herriot's life still make for compelling reading. The stories and their messages are still as sharp and fresh as when I read them as a child. They are still funny, sad, and wonderful, and they instill the same desire to share them with as many people as possible. I caught myself looking forward to having kids, just so I can read these books with them.This book is the first installment of Herriot's books, and introduces the immortal Tricki Woo and the phrase "flop bott."
—Brittany
