Wolf Story (New York Review Collections (Hardcover))
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
This irresistible book is about: a father; his five-year-old son, Michael (intelligent, crafty, addicted to stories); Michael’s best friend Stefan (stalwart listener, equally addicted to stories); and, well—what else?—a story.
Oh, and a wolf. It is as Michael always demands: a Wolf Story, which begins one night at bedtime and spins wildly on through subsequent bedtimes and Sunday outings to the beach and park in a succession of ever more trickily tantalizing episodes. Waldo the wolf is sneaking up on Rainbow the hen, when Jimmy Tractorwheel, the son of the local farmer, comes along. After that, there’s no knowing what will happen next, as while stalled in traffic jams or nodding off at night, the boys chime in and the story races on and Waldo finds, if not necessarily dinner, his just desserts.
First published in 1947 and wonderfully illustrated by Warren Chappell, William McCleery’s Wolf Story is a delicious treat for fathers and sons and daughters and mothers alike.
Copyright and More Information Dedication WOLF STORY 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Biographical Notes Chapter 1 NCE upon a time a man was putting his five-year-old son Michael to bed and the boy asked for a story. “All right,” said the man. “Well, let me see. Oh yes. Well, once upon a time there was a girl with long golden hair and they called her Goldilocks.” “No, no,” said the boy. “A new story.” “A new story?” said the man. “What about?” “About a hen,” said the boy. “Good!” said the
excursion!” said Michael. “Let’s go to Jones Beach!” “But it’s too chilly to go swimming.” “We could play on the sand.” “I could fix you a lunch to take along,” said Michael’s mother. “Do you realize how far it is to Jones Beach?” cried his father. “Can we take Steffy?” cried Michael. “And fly a kite?” “Oh, well, that’s an idea,” said his father, who liked to fly kites. “Maybe we could get that big box kite in the air.” During the summer Michael’s father had bought a box kite about as large
from, and then he set off in what he thought was the right direction.” “As fast as his legs would carry him,” said Michael. “But quietly,” said his father, “so as not to alarm the wolf. But to his great disappointment the clucking grew fainter instead of louder. Why was that?” “Rainbow was getting tired?” said Stefan. “No.” “The wolf took Rainbow in his den!” cried Michael. “No. The clucking grew fainter because Jimmy was traveling in the wrong direction.” “Oh, yes,” said the boys,
Stefan took off their shoes and socks and ran in the deep soft white sand of Jones Beach, stumbling, falling, laughing, getting sand in their ears and hair and down their necks and up their sleeves and in their pockets. It was autumn, a cool day, and the water was too chilly to swim in, but the boys raced along the damp sand at the water’s edge, and once in a while a wave would come up farther than the others and lick their heels with an icy tongue. Meanwhile Michael’s father was sitting on a
ice cream or popcorn to eat on the way home,” said Michael’s father. “Yea!” cried the boys, forgetting how much they hated to leave the beach and thinking only of ice cream and popcorn. As they drove home, Michael’s father picked up the story where Waldo the wolf ran into the forest. “Jimmy Tractorwheel carried Rainbow the hen all the way home on his shoulder,” said Michael’s father, “and when they arrived at the Tractorwheel farm, Jimmy’s mother and father and brothers were in the yard, and