See, my dad has been reading to us from Herriot's 'All Things Bright and Beautiful' (you know the book even if you've never read it - they're at every rummage sale, and the not-that-great cover art always made it look like animals-can-talk fiction), and, oh man - It's amazing! Like, the most wonderful thing i've ever read (or heard read-aloud, as the case is). It's great for lots of reasons - a glimpse into what small-town life was like in my beloved England, a reminder of the wholesomeness of animal husbandry, a neat insight into the shift in farm-life that happened with the popularization of agricultural machines, etc.
But the main reason I love it, which makes the others pale in comparison, and is why i reckon it became so popular a few decades ago, is how Herriot paints the portraits of the people who inhabit his world (he is himself, the veterinarian, and narrator):
Each person he meets and interacts with is cast in such a way that they seem huge and magnificent. And amazingly, it's not at the expense of realism. there is no kitschy glossing-over of faults. Warts are clearly visible, and yet Herriot conveys what very few are able to see - and what I am referencing in the title of this post (which comes from one of the truest, most profound essays ever written) - namely, the glory of a person. As readers we are introduced to each character with such an admiring slant amidst such a frank assessment, that after just about every chapter I am bowled over by how wonderful it all is, how wonderful they all are. I would copy a selection here to show you what I mean, but a selection wouldn't do it justice (and I am too lazy). Partly because the setting (rural Yorkshire) is such an essential framing, and partly because it is strewn throughout the writing, in the adjectives preceding names and actions, that color the whole narrative. So, you'll just have to try it for yourself. But truly, his ability to capture glory, without any airs of solemnity of churchiness is incredible, and invigorating. I fear i have made it all sound too high-minded, for in actual fact - the marvelous part of the writing is how good-humored he is about everything, even his own lack of good-humor at times. It has such a sweet savor...
In sum - my life has been permanently enriched by reading Herriot. My vision of the good life, my understanding of hospitality and greatness of soul, and my love for the things and the people of this world, have now all been re-cast in the shapes of his many wonderful characters.
When i meet people, I want to see them for all the glory of who they are in their peculiarity, the way Herriot was able to.
I am so very grateful for this vision, and feel compelled to share so on this-here blog, to you three or four friends who still read on occasion.
Thanks, Pa.
2 comments:
I have nothing in the way of gently critical rejoinders here, only hearty congratulations for finding positive, redemptive fiction, which from your description sounds at least moderately well-written. Two of those three qualities may be found in many works, but to hit the trifecta after the nineteenth century is a rare thing indeed. I have found similar heartstrings pulled by several David Foster Wallace characters, particularly the AA-goers of Infinite Jest. May Herriot continue to nourish you. I may try to pick up one of those books (which should be easy enough, you're right about them being every freaking where) myself in the near future.
Herriot = highly recommended. I don't know if I ever told you, but reading these out loud can cause hilarity, as when the animal husbandry goes a bit into the animal pimping, as when the term "artificial vagina" came out of my my mouth several times while reading in mixed company around a fire at the cherry st. house two years ago. Agreed on the characterizations, particular the guy who makes his own rutabaga wine, the couple that serves Herriot the slab of bacon fat, and many more
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