James Herriot: Difference between revisions

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Wight was born in 1916 in [[Oop North|Northern England]] but raised in Glasgow, Scotland. Upon qualifying as a veterinary surgeon shortly prior to [[World War Two]], he ventured into Yorkshire for the first time in 1940, to begin practice in a small farming community seat that he would dub 'Darrowby', but which was in reality Thirsk with some elements borrowed from nearby Sowerby -- ironically enough about twenty miles distant from the harsh, starkly beautiful Dales his stories would make iconic to legions of tourists as 'Herriot Country'.

 

 

He had always been interested in writing, but success came late. The legend goes that over the many years as a practicing vet, Wight would frequently tell his family stories about his cases and the characters involved, invariably winding up with the declaration that 'That'll go in my book someday...' Twenty years on, his wife finally called him on it, insisting that "old vets of fifty don't suddenly start writing books!" Thus inspired, Wight picked a pen name (since at the time the professional etiquette frowned on vets advertising their work) and hit the typewriter. By 1970 ''If Only They Could Talk'' was published in the UK to... not much acclaim. Neither was the sequel, ''It Shouldn't Happen to a Vet''.

Wight -- and later his family -- have always insisted that all his stories were based in fact, albeit some much more distantly than others, and there is no reason to doubt them. However, as a private man with no wish to incur the wrath of the people he still lived and worked among, Wight ''did'' deliberately set out to ensure none of his subjects would be recognised, or recognise themselves. To that end he freely adapted stories from colleagues, consolidated incidents, changed names and places (occasionally even swapping genders), and mucked about with timelines. It is probably simplest to regard the end product as fiction that was [[Very Loosely Based on a True Story]]. All the playing fast and loose with reality, however, is merely window dressing to a series of books that capture the heart of veterinary medicine in all its messy, bloody, based-on-guesswork-and-a-bit-of-luck glory.

 

 

Meanwhile the deeply bemused but generally gracious Wight, along with partner and assistants, was trying to cope with an explosively popular veterinary practice that involved about 10% actually sick animals; the other 90% were eager pilgrims clutching books to be signed or pets to be appreciated. Through it all -- and probably adding to it -- the centre of this tourist storm resolutely clung to his unassuming outlook and lifestyle, considering himself a working vet above all else. (One documentary crew, asking one of the 'local characters' for an interview, was told that they should talk t'vet instead, since "don't let it get about... but I've heard he's written a book!")

 

 

The books also [[The Red Stapler|inspired countless students to pursue veterinary medicine]] - both as veterinarians and as veterinary nurses - in generations to come, leading to the familiar pre-vet (nursing) professor's admonition that "If you're here because you think it's like the Herriot books, think again!"<ref>That professor was both right and wrong - most of vet work is, quite frankly, boring, but Herriot quite accurately portrayed the all-too-rare rush of ecstasy that comes from finding that diagnosis and administering that lifesaving medicine just in the nick of time. Those who ignored that professor and made it through the exhausting, mind-numbing, brain-overloading courses of study needed to qualify did so because they discovered that the life wasn't nearly as glamorous as they thought and decided they wanted to do it anyway.</ref>

 

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[[Category:Authors]]

[[Category:James Herriot]]