All Creatures Great and Small 1975
If Only They Could Talk and It Shouldn't Happen to a Vet
All Things Bright and Beautiful 1976
Let Sleeping Vets Lie and Vet in Harness
All Things Wise and Wonderful 1978
Vets Might Fly and Vet in a Spin
The Best of James Herriot 1982
James Herriot's Dog Stories 1986
James Herriot's Cat Stories 1994
James Herriot's Favourite Dog Stories 1995
James Herriot's Yorkshire Stories 1997
Moses the Kitten 1984
Only One Woof 1985
The Christmas Day Kitten 1986
Bonny's Big Day 1987
Blossom Comes Home 1988
The Market Square Dog 1989
Oscar: Cat About Town 1990
Smudge's Day Out 1991
THE HERRIOT LEGACY
WRITER WARMLY DETAILED BOND
BETWEEN PEOPLE, ANIMALS
Mary Ann Grossmann
Chicago Tribune ~ March 8, 1995
There were extra hugs for the cats in our household last weekend, and the dogs got unusually long sniffing time on our walks. These were the best ways, I thought, to honor the memory of James Herriot.
Our dainty grey cat was lying in my lap like a humming metalloid when I read of Herriot's recent death. It was as though a little light went out in my life, and I instinctively stroked Lady Jane's soft ears while I absorbed the idea that James Alfred Wight (Herriot's real name) would never write again of his life and work in the Yorkshire dells of northern England.
I knew, of course, that this modest and beloved vet was a successful author whose gentle books sold more than 50 million copies in 20 countries, that he rarely gave interviews, and that he certainly wasn't going to leave his ivy-covered home in the market town of Thirsk to travel to America. Still, I cherished the illogical hope that by some miracle, we would be in the same room so I could, well-so I could give him a hug.
People often ask me about my favorite author, probably expecting me to wax eloquent about Proust or Shakespeare, so I used to be a little embarrassed to honestly reply, "James Herriot." But not anymore. After spending a wonderful weekend rereading Herriot's books, I realized that his writing has everything: finely drawn and colorful characters, empathy for humans and animals, a good story set in a gentler time, humor, respect for uneducated but hard-working people and an appreciation of the land.
But there's something else in Herriot's writing that I can't quite articulate, a glow of decency that makes people want to be better humans. I guess we'd call it spirituality these days, this profound belief of Herriot's that humans are linked to all animals, whether they be the calves he helped birth or pampered pets like Tricki Woo, Mrs. Pumphrey's lovable but overfed Pekinese.
The outlines of Herriot's life were detailed in the news stories about his death: his youth in Scotland, finding a job with Donald Sinclair (Siegfried Farnon in the books), his adventures with the drinking-and-carousing Tristan (Sinclair's brother, Brian) and Herriot's love for the moors and valleys of Yorkshire, where he drove for miles in the worst weather to help animals on outlying farms.
In the introduction to "James Herriot's Dog Stories," he goes into more detail about how he always loved dogs and supposed that he'd someday have an up-to-date, small-animal practice, even though veterinary medicine was in trouble in the 1930s because draft horses were being phased out and keeping small pets was seen as "slightly sissy" by the hard-working farm folk.
Even as a boy, he was intrigued by dogs: "I could never quite take dogs for granted. Why were they so devoted to the human race? Why should they delight in our company and welcome us home in transports of joy? There were so many different shapes, sizes and colours, yet they all had the same fundamental characteristics. Why, Why?"
Herriot never got his small-animal practice, but he didn't care. He was content to lave cow's stomachs, lie on cold stone floors to examine downed horses and muck around in pigpens so he could spend part of each day caring for dogs and cats at Skeldale House.
His helpmate in all his endeavors was his wife, Helen, about whom he wrote so lovingly. They celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in 1992, the same year Herriot turned his practice over to his son (although that didn't stop the invasion of fans who tracked him down at his home).
Because Herriot was a partner in a busy practice, spread over many miles, he didn't have time to begin writing until he was older than 50. He couldn't have taken any writing classes, since most of his life is accounted for in his books, and he never mentions formal training. But there was probably nothing for him to learn; he did it instinctively.
His first two books were published in Britain, where he was discovered by Thomas McCormack, chairman of St. Martin's Press. When St. Martin's published All Creatures Great and Small in 1972, a perceptive reviewer named Alfred C. Ames wrote in the Chicago Tribune, "If there is any justice, this book will become a classic of its kind. With seemingly effortless art, this man tells his stories with perfect timing. Many more famous authors could work for a lifetime and not achieve more flawless literary control."
Now, death has stilled James Herriot's lovely voice. But he left us his books, and we can take comfort in the fact that he believed he would be reunited with all the dogs he loved: the beautiful Irish setter with whom he walked the Scottish hills during his boyhood; Hector, the Jack Russell terrier; and Dan, the black Lab who rode with him for many years as he made his calls.
In his story "The Card Over the Bed," Herriot writes of an old woman whose only fear is that she may never be reunited with her animals after death because some people say animals have no soul. Holding the old woman's hand, Herriot replies:
"If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans. You've nothing to worry about there."
On days when I miss the members of our animal family who have died, I comfort myself with a childish vision of a heaven where there are endless fields and woods in which to run, and St. Francis sits beneath a tree surrounded by every animal who ever lived. Who could doubt that James Herriot is sitting with them?© Chicago Tribune
ASSOCIATED PRESS OBITUARY
James Herriot, 78 -- Veterinarian-Author
October 3, 1916 - February 23, 1995
LONDON -- James Herriot, who shared his experiences as a country veterinarian in the best-selling memoir All Creatures Great and Small, died Thursday in the Yorkshire Dales where he had ministered to animals for half a century. He was 78. He died of prostate cancer at his home near Thirsk, his granddaughter, Emma Page, said. "He had been ill for three years, but he had borne his illness very patiently and bravely. His family were all with him when he died peacefully at home today," she said.
Herriot -- the pen name and alter ego of James Alfred Wight -- wrote 15 books in the time that he could wrest away from his practice. They sold 50 million copies in 20 countries. But he continued his veterinary practice long after his books made him famous. "If a farmer calls me with a sick animal, he couldn't care less if I were George Bernard Shaw," he once said.
A quiet, modest man with a trace of his Glasgow upbringing in his voice, "Alf" Wight kept out of the limelight as best he could. Despite the pen name, many fans tracked him down at Skeldale House, the ivy-covered home and office familiar to his readers and viewers of the popular British television series based on "All Creatures Great and Small."
The son of an orchestra leader who played background music for silent films, he was born Oct. 13, 1916, and grew up in Glasgow. He trained at Glasgow Veterinary College, arriving in Thirsk in 1940 for a now-famous job interview with Donald Sinclair -- Siegfried Farnon in the book. He joined the practice and, aided and abetted by the hapless Tristan -- Sinclair's brother, Brian -- settled in among the dour farmers of the Yorkshire Dales.
He started writing when he was 50. "I was dumbfounded by the reaction to that first book, absolutely dumbfounded," he told the Daily Mail in 1981. "The most I had hoped for was that someone would publish it and a few people quite enjoy reading it."
The real Siegfried, James and Tristan
The story of a young veterinarian's apprenticeship to a
somewhat eccentric older vet in the English countryside,
and the young man's hesitating courtship of the daughter of a local farmer.
Simon Ward: James Herriot
Anthony Hopkins: Siegfried Farnon
Brian Stirner: Tristan Farnon
aka All Things Bright and Beautiful
Director: Eric Till
Script: Alan Plater
John Alderton: James Herriot
Colin Blakely: Siegfried Farnon
Lisa Harrow: Helen
This documentary showcases the breathtaking scenery of
Wensleydale, Swaledale, Coverdale, Thirsk, Sutton Bank, Captain Cook country,
Scarborough, Robin Hood's Bay, York and Harrogate
as well as featuring the people and animals so often associated with Herriot's novels.
James Herriot (also plays himself as Alf Wight)
Christopher Timothy (also narrates)
The BBC series ran for seven seasons, starting in 1978.
Alf Wight and Christopher Timothy
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