Review: A Wolf Called Wander

A Wolf Called Wander by Rosanne Parry
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Based on the travels of a real life wolf, this wonderful book tells the story of a year old wolf who is forced to leave his home ground when another pack attacks his. In the aftermath of the attack, he struggles to find any of his pack or a place where they can be safe, always desperately missing his home ground.

This is a beautifully illustrated book, full of real life details about wolves in general and Wander in particular. His loneliness for parts of the book is stark and heartrending, and the intricacies of wolf culture are fascinating. One part near the end, when Wander is thinking about one of his brothers, had me in tears.

I want to mention the illustrations again, because without them this would be a whole other book. Still good, still sad and happy and heart rending, but emptier. The illustrations add so much to the story and the whole package is just perfect together.

An amazing book for nine and up.



My raven will be hungry. We have not eaten in days. I call her and open the hide. Good things spill out in a warm steamy pile. I take a few bites and call for my raven again. She led me to water all the way across the dry flats. I will be glad of her company over the meat. It feels wrong to eat alone.

My raven doesn't come.

I call her again.

A whole pack of ravens rise up from the grass with a great rattling call. They come to me. They swarm around the meat. I am happy to share. I take the parts that are a wolf's due and settle in to chewing as the ravens pick over their bits of meat.

I search for mine among them but they look all alike. I call to her but none of them look up. I sniff the air but ravens all smell the same to me. My raven had a bald patch on her chest much like the white line on my shoulder. I look for it, and when I find her, I yip a greeting.

She carries on eating and squabbling with her pack as if I'm not there. As if kinship between a wolf and a raven is impossible. As if all the days we have traveled together mean nothing at all. When the shadows grow long and the air cools, every one of the ravens takes to the sky without a backwards look. They roost together on the other side of the water, far away from me. My raven has her pack now.

I have eaten my fill. There is more water than I can drink and yet I have never felt so empty. I know; I have always known, that the raven could never be a pack mate to me. No mere bird could take the place of Pounce or Wag, certainly not Warm. And yet we have taken a journey together. We have shared meat. She was my guide and companion. The soft talk of doves and the cheerful trills of the wren do not comfort me. The clouds turn golden, orange and pink against a sky of deeper and deeper blue. Even this beauty cannot lift me.

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