Wilson Rawls





Wilson Rawls

Author profile


born
September 24, 1913 in Scraper, Oklahoma, The United States

died
December 16, 1984

gender
male

genre


About this author

Wilson Rawls was born on September 24, 1913, in the Ozark country of Scraper, Oklahoma. His mother home-schooled her children, and after Rawls read Jack London's canine-centered tale Call of the Wild, he decided to become a writer.

But the Great Depression hit the Unites States in 1929, and Rawls left home to find work. His family moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico in 1935, and he came home each fall to work and hunt. He wrote stories while he traveled, but his lack of formal education hampered his grammar, and he could not sell anything. In 1958, he gave up on his dream and burned all his work. He later revealed his literary desires to his wife, Sophie, and she encouraged him to keep writing.

In a three-week burst, Rawls wrote Where the Red F...more


Average rating: 3.98 · 103,513 ratings · 5,031 reviews · 4 distinct works
Where the Red Fern Grows
3.98 of 5 stars 3.98 avg rating — 99,196 ratings — published 1961 — 50 editions
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Summer of the Monkeys
3.97 of 5 stars 3.97 avg rating — 4,204 ratings — published 1977 — 14 editions
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Hunters of Cherokee County
4.0 of 5 stars 4.00 avg rating — 4 ratings — published 1978
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Eigentlich Hätte Es Ein He...
2.0 of 5 stars 2.00 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 1986
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Extinct! Creatures of the Past
5.0 of 5 stars 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating4 editions
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More books by Wilson Rawls…
“After the last shovel of dirt was patted in place, I sat down and let my mind drift back through the years. I thought of the old K. C. Baking Powder can, and the first time I saw my pups in the box at the depot. I thought of the fifty dollars, the nickels and dimes, and the fishermen and blackberry patches.

I looked at his grave and, with tears in my eyes, I voiced these words: "You were worth it, old friend, and a thousand times over.”
Wilson Rawls, Where the Red Fern Grows

“I buried Little Ann by the side of Old Dan. I knew that was where she wanted to be. I also buried a part of my life along with my dog.”
Wilson Rawls, Where the Red Fern Grows

“What I saw was more than I could stand. The noise I heard had been made by Little Ann. All her life she had slept by Old Dan's side. And although he was dead, she had left the doghouse, had come back to the porch, and snuggled up by his side.”
Wilson Rawls, Where the Red Fern Grows

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