Guest blogger: Jennifer E. Smith
My dearest readers,
I am delighted to present Jennifer E. Smith, author of The Comeback Season, who wrote a guest entry for us today about one of the books that inspired her when she was growing up. She chose a tearjerker, Where the Red Fern Grows, which is probably the novel that inspired the phrase “a book about a boy and his dog.” But here, I’ll let her tell you all about it:
Where the Red Fern Grows, a review by Jennifer E. Smith
* When my first book, The Comeback Season, went out into the world this spring, the one thing I heard more than anything else was that it made people cry. And inevitably, my first impulse was always to apologize.
Rarely is making someone cry considered a good thing. But even so, I’ve always relished those books and movies that elicit that sort of reaction, the ones that wrench your heart in such a way that it never quite goes back to its original shape.
The first time I read Where the Red Fern Grows was in a sixth grade classroom. We were assigned a certain amount of pages each night, but my teacher decided we’d read the ending together as a class. Sixth grade is not really the ideal time to be seen bawling by your classmates, but I remember being completely gutted by the ending, shocked and sad and just generally crushed. It felt like I’d gone through it all myself, the longing for a couple of red hounds, the bravery and sacrifice in the face of danger, the sharp sting of loss at the end. It stays with me even now; I could cry just thinking about Old Dan and Little Ann. Just as I did back then. (In front of my entire sixth grade class.)
A lot of people can’t bear to read these kinds of stories. Life is too sad as it is, I suppose. But for me, it’s a kind of release, and there’s a certain cathartic joy to it. Those are the sort of books that have stayed with me over the years, that cling to my memory in the face of so many years and so many other stories. To say they are unforgettable isn’t quite enough. Books like Where the Red Fern Grows simply become a part of you.
So now, when people tell me they cried when reading my book, I’m no longer going to apologize. It seems to me the most generous kind of compliment, the idea that my words could affect someone in the same way Wilson Rawls’ words still affect me. From now, I’ll simply thank them instead…and perhaps suggest they don’t read the ending in public!*
All material between the asterisks is © Jennifer E. Smith 2008. This material may not be reproduced in any form without her permission.
June 24th, 2008 at 12:09 pm
Jennifer, your words brought back such a memory for me! I read Where the Red Fern Grows in eighth grade on my own. Our civics teacher finished a little early and told us we could use the rest of class to do something quietly. I pulled out my book and read. And cried. The bell rang, I left the classroom and walked down the hall, reading. Crying. I made it to art class, sat on a stool, finished the book. Crying.
Since then I have avoided books about animals. Or stories I know will make me cry. I am such a wuss! But sometime soon, when I’m feeling emotionally strong, I’ll pick up your book. I appreciate well written books.