Is there anyone in the English-speaking world over the age of fifteen that has not read Where the Red Fern Grows? Apparently, I am the only one that has not. As I spent time reading this novel in various places, every person that saw me made a comment that went something like this: “Have you read it before? Oh, you haven’t? Be prepared to cry.” Every. Single. Person. After hearing this from a few people, I started to worry. If you have spent more than, say, three hours with me in your life, you know that I cry. A lot. So to be told by people that didn’t know me at all, that I would, in fact, cry at this book, worried me. I assumed I would end up in a crumpled heap on the floor at the end of the novel, only to be rescued by my husband telling me that everything would be okay in the world, even if the wonderful, charming coonhounds did die. WHOOPS! SPOILER ALERT!
Confession: I didn’t cry. Not a single tear. I devoured the book in one day and thoroughly enjoyed it, but it didn’t bring me to the emotional level that I expected. Any thoughts on this, my friends? Did you cry the first time you read this novel?
Where the Red Fern Grows
by Wilson Rawls
Originally published in 1961