Tawny

REVIEW: by Barbara Wersba of the New York Times.

The odd thing about TAWNY is that while it reminds me of every wild animal story I have ever read, and while it also reminds me of certain television programs I try to avoid, it is still a beautiful and breathtaking book. Something in the author’s apprehension of life has saved him from triteness in this story. Something very personal has redeemed it.

The plot concerns a New England farm boy named Trey, whose twin brother has recently been shot and killed while trying to protect a herd of deer from poachers. While mourning his brother, Trey is suddenly presented with a doe that has been so badly mangled by dogs that it has little chance to live. He nurses the yearling back to health and finds that as it takes a new hold on life, so does he. Predictably, the boy and the deer begin to heal together.

The book moves forward swiftly. As scenes of Trey’s present life are contrasted with scenes of his past, the ubiquitous twin brother moves through the story in a kind of golden light -- always braver and more beautiful than Trey, always more daring. But as the deer takes a stronger grip on the boy’s heart, the image of his brother begins to fade. Trey’s new problem will be to allow the yearling to return to the wilderness, and the battle he fights with himself on this issue is a passionate one.

Throughout the story we are given scenes in which Trey rescues the deer from danger and scenes in which the deer saves Trey. But every time a familiar Hollywood scenario threatens to engulf us, the author’s language saves him and we are transported by the magic of words. Rarely has the atmosphere of a New Hampshire farm been so palpably evoked.

TAWNY is a book that is moving and true. It is written with love, and its language is beautiful. There is nothing more to say --except that I cried at the end.