I’m of the pre-tv generation—and I think that makes a difference. Some of my most favorite were Richard Halliburton’s travel books: he claimed to have been in various forbidden places, including a night-time dip in the Taj Mahal’s reflecting pool. And he did have photos. [Not of the skinny-dipping event.] He vanished in the China Sea in a storm, on a Chinese junk. Which is a way for a writer to make an exit. I also read Edgar Rice Burroughs, both the Tarzan and eventually [as a teen] the Mars books. I read the Oz books, which have a lot about traveling and adventure, and I think that played a part. And I read Maneaters of Kumaon, by Corbett, about India before one ever thought of ecology. All those books were special to me, in that regard.
All right, another favorite books question: what books waked your sense of the natural world?
by CJ | Sep 16, 2010 | Journal | 78 comments
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For me, it was Jim Kjelgaard’s wilderness books – Big Red, Irish Red, Outlaw Red and about half a dozen others. He died in 1959, so his books have entered the public domain in Canada (and Australia, I believe) just this last January. Which means I can scan and convert them to epub (and mobi, soon) to add to the MobileRead library. That’s in my spare time after catching up on Jane and Lynn’s books – I think I’m up to date on yours, Caroline, at least in paperback…
Back to Jim Kjelgaard’s books – they introduced me to the wilderness and wild life – as opposed to Burgess’s fanciful woodland tales of talking animals which I read in second and third grade. That first spring trip out into the country to see trees and fields and hills all in green is still special for me.
Misty of Chincoteague was probably the first, back when I was 8 or 9. I never had much of a horsey phase, but that book I checked out of the library again and again — I think for the descriptions of the place, which are the only parts I even vaguely remember. I didn’t start reading SF/F/H until I was 12 or so, and while I enjoyed those books, none of them ever really evoked a sense of place for me, a place I’d want to go to. (If that’s what you’re asking about.) By the time I was in college, I suppose Silverberg’s Valentine books were evoking a sense of place, and then Feist. And then you. 🙂 Your worlds are some of the few I’d want to actually step into and see for myself. Travel-type books have never done much for me. I read a slew of “gothic romance” books in college for my fem. lit. class (Mysteries of Rudolpho et al) where there are long, involved (tedious, overblown) descriptions of scenery, and I just skimmed those parts since nothing was HAPPENING. Give me one long paragraph of lush description and then let’s get on with the PLOT. I don’t need twenty pages about the carriage ride over the mountain, yeesh…
Oh wait, there was a dog book too. Can’t remember the name… or the author… relatively famous, I think. Sled dog in Alaska? The part I best remember is that the guy and his dog are sitting on this ledge, admiring the view, and just on a whim, the guy sweeps his arm out, commanding the dog to jump, and then had to wrestle the dog back because the dog was going to do it. I sincerely hated that guy in that moment. Can’t remember the name of the book… ringing any bells for anyone?
There was no pre-tv memories for me so instead of reading about other places first (beyond basic school stuff or the encyclopedia set we had at home) I watched a TON of PBS. From a very early age I was a huge Jacque Cousteau fan. Had I known there was a fan club I would have been in it. I also watched all of the nature documentaries from the late 1970s (in reruns) and 1980s. I think I liked the filming process as much as the actual subject matter. Also whatever other travel stuff PBS had along with archeology digs and big event stuff like wars (Ric Burns), East India Trading Company, Native American history… As far as fiction goes I did like My Side of the Mountain and Dangerous Island as a kid. Still, I’d have to credit Jacque the most. I love the combination of the filming, tech, and nature. It was like space exploration only local in comparison.
‘The Velveteen Rabbit” as a child made me look at the animals around me in a different way (I was a big stuffed animal girl) – I used to imagine they were all once beloved stuffed animals. A recent book that opened a vast frontier to me was Dan Simmons’s “The Terror”. The stark, frigid landscape was so very overwhelming I could practically smell the cold and feel the bite of the wind. It made me appreciate all the more those who live in extreme latitudes.
Although I was brought up in the city I only had to go to the gully at the back of the house to come in contact with the natural world; reptiles, insects and birds mostly. And we learnt early on in elementary school how to identify poisonous critters from non-poisonous. One of my earliest memories is feeding the blue-tongued lizard that lived in a rock wall pieces of ground beef.
http://www.outback-australia-travel-secrets.com/blue-tongue-lizard.html
“The Wind in the Willows.”. Not very naturalistic about animals, of course. But the book conveys the earthy coziness of Rat’s home, Mole’s home and the Badger’s home. And I immediately identified with Mole’s desire to be allowed to row: Both my parents were from Minnesota and we spent summer vacations at one of the 10,000 lakes, Finally being allowed to row the boat was a rite of passage.
Marguerite Henry’s Album of Horses was a favorite even before I could read all of it. Wesley Dennis’ illustrations in it were an introduction to looking at the world. I loved how even his simple drawings had so much character, and the different breeds of horses really opened my eyes to the variability of animals (and people). By the age of seven I was reading that book cover to cover, and begging to go see horses so I could figure out what breeds they were.
@mrgawe – I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of Jack London’s Call of the Wild, which was also the first thing that came to my mind on reading CJ’s question. Looking back to me reading in the 50s, that was followed by Black Beauty, and not very long after (when I was about nine), LotR and all that elf – forest worship stuff.
1. All the Swallows and Amazons books by Arthur Ransome. (I lived them. My world didn’t have a lake or an island or sailboats or retired pirates, but I made it have them. A massive transposition of geology/geography/lifestyle.
2. Silent Spring by Rachel Carson (it terrified me, actually. I was only ten and in despair for weeks.)
3. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
I was always a voracious reader. I honestly don’t recall who/what came first. It’s a mishmash of Burroughs (Tarzan, Mars), McCaffrey (Decision at Doona was first), Heinlein, Louis L’Amour (whether you like his books or not, lots of nature in them). My family was a hunting/camping family, and we operated a mine in the Nevada desert. Nature all around! Small hometown, population ca. 600, and desert or not, there is lots of life out there.
Landmark: in 1970 all 6 of us (2 older sisters,a younger brother) drove in a tunaboat Pontiac station wagon from southern Nevada to coastal North Carolina to visit relatives, camping all the way. Day one, at first light (because we ALWAYS started out predawn for the long trips), Mom started reading The Hobbit aloud. We were entranced. By the time the dwarves were looking for a camping spot in the middle of a Misty Mountains storm (I loved giants who threw stones in the air!) it was starting to get dark. The Rule had always been, no lights on to read at night, no way, no how, but on this night Dad turned on the dome light and Mom read until she was so hoarse she couldn’t talk.
The Book of Cowboys and The Book of Indians by Holling C. Holling. I was probably about eight. (They were my older brother’s and I still have them, along with a set of Bookhouse Books.)
Oh my goodness, what a great question and what great memories everyone’s responses bring up. I read so voraciously as a kid that I can’t remember which first book turned me on to the natural world, but there were many! Richard Halliburton’s Book of Marvels lay around at my grandparents’ camp, a leftover from my uncle’s childhood reading, I suspect. I loved it, read its sections and adventures again and again and frequently think of his travels when I teach archaeology and anthropology. He was the world of other peoples, rather than nature, though.
I certainly read all the Jim Kjelgaard books I could get my hands on (some 50 or so), starting with Big Red and going on from there (you mean he died the year I was born? Oh.) Marguerite Henry’s horse books, oh yes, as well as Mary O’Hara’s Green Grass of Wyoming and many more. With animal books, I would read the last page first, just to see if the animal died and was I going to break my heart over the book (Old Yeller, etc.): it was good to be fore-warned. Beware of Rawling’s The Yearling — the faun dies the chapter before the end!!! Waaah….
When I was seven or so, I was given Walt Disney’s Book of Nature or some such title: it was a full color non-fiction book with pictures galore from their wildlife films and I read it again and again. I was careful to hold the pages of the insect chapter very gingerly and at the far edges: I didn’t like the idea of my fingers idly and unknowingly resting atop a large spider on the obverse side of the page I was getting ready to turn.
On the mildly fantasy end: A Strange at Greene Knowe by L M Boston: a gorilla escapes in England and the young Chinese(?) fosterchild living at the often magical house of Greene Knowe bonds with him. Oh to be so close to our primate cousins.
Can’t remember such a book at all. I grew up climbing threes, building secret huts from branches, searching for frogs and lizards and other animals, out in the woods. Yes, I had my own knife, handled it myself staring at age 7 or so. Loved exploring. By age 8 or 9 I spent a lot of my time out in the woods – I had a special place some kilometres from home, a natural clearing, by a small brook, sometimes bringing a book with me. So when I started to read books with descriptions of nature in them I could connect the text with smells, sounds and images. In that sense my experiences with nature enriched the reading experience.
Pretty much as Busifer says, I grew up in the countryside, and nature was all around me. My parents took me hiking when I was fairly small and we all enjoyed watching deer and buzzards etc. As well as eating berries, and some specific mushrooms.
I had a ‘Nature Handbook’ as a birthday present with animal tracks and descriptions in it. ‘The Jungle book’ helped, as I was a cubScout.
I’m with reading-fox – the Jungle Book and, at the same time, Scouting for Boys.
It must have had an effect – I’m still a Scout leader now!
The book which first gave me a sense of the natural world was ‘My Family and Other Animals’ by Gerald Durrell
It tells the story of the his family’s stay on the Greek island of Corfu from 1935-1939.
It not only conveys a deep and vivid sense of wonder and delight in the natural world – it’s also hilariously and uproariously funny.
Reading and re-reading it as a teenager, I would literally find myself crying with laughter.
The book is about the author’s eccentric family (including his older brother Lawrence Durrell, who later became a well-known writer), the oddball local inhabitants of Corfu, and the fascinating animals of all kinds, each with their own character, seen through the very observant and warmly affectionate eyes of a young boy.
Gerald Durrell’s delight and enjoyment in the beautiful Greek island and all its wonderful fauna comes through in every page. He brings it all brilliantly to life.
Durrell later became a professional naturalist and conservationist, and wrote many more books, mostly about animals. ‘My Family and Other Animals’ is his first, and probably his best.
On Amazon, the book currently has 97/116 5-star reviews. There is a ‘look inside’ feature, which has the introduction and part of the first chapter.
My Family and Other Animals, by Gerald Durrell
http://www.amazon.com/Family-Other-Animals-Gerald-Durrell/dp/0142004413/
I loved Gerald Durrell’s books. Totally enjoyed the movie,also.
I would say The Goshawk by T H White which I found at the age of 10 or so, at a sort of kid’s camp – except it was an Edwardian house run by 2 Edwardian spinsters, and had a lot of interesting books. it is a kind of diary of trying to train the hawk by medieval methods in the 1930’s, living on his own in a cottage in the woods – and he is definitely the pattern for Merlin in the Sword in the Stone. he had been teaching boys English at Stowe which was rather a good public (boarding) school and had learnt most of his natural history from boys and game keepers (and poachers too) he had the pet owl who nibbles Wart’s ear, and the baby badgers that nipped his ankles. there’s lots of natural history in the Sword in the Stone too.
I grew up in the country too, but I also have vivid memories of books which focused on the outdoors. The Arthur Ransome books about sailing on the lakes in the English lake country – those children were outdoors in the hills and on the moors all day long. And LOTR – I think my love for mountains comes from all that trekking. It looks different in my mind’s eye from the movies. I agree about Wind in the Willows. And the Narnia books.
Ah yes, LOTR was some influence to me as well. Mainly because at 10 yo I wanted to be a ranger, like Strider.
That this was as unachievable as my other job idea – astronaut – was nothing I spent any thought on 😉 And it made me even more eager to learn how to manage out in the field (or woods, which was the case were I grew up).