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Chauntecleer the Rooster #2
The Book of Sorrows
This sequel to the award-winning The Book of the Dun Cow stands on its own as a powerful work of literature. In this absorbing, highly original fantasy, Chauntecleer, Pertelote, and the other familiar characters of the Coop struggle to piece together their shattered lives in the aftermath of the terrible conflict with the dreaded Wyrm. But their respite is Into this struggling community, Wyrm again insinuates himself, with dire consequences for all. The reappearance of the dog Mundo Coni unveils a darker mystery yet -- and the threat of a final horror when evil yields up its most devastating secrets. Told by a master storyteller, The Book of Sorrows is a taught and spellbinding tale that immerses readers in a variety of adventures -- heroic, humorous, and touching -- moving inexorably toward the final confrontation that decides the fate of the characters and their world. No one who reads it will remain unmoved. It explores the value and goodness of existence, the darker side of reality, and qualities of love, kindness, courage, and hope that can transform even "this troublous existence." Here is fast-paced fantasy filled with richly drawn characters and gripping excitement, set against a colorful, fully realized world, and with depth of meaning that will draw readers back again and again to ponder the images long after the final battle is waged between the forces of life and death.
339 pages, Paperback
Published August 19, 1996
47 people are currently reading
1364 people want to read
About the author
Walter Wangerin Jr.
95 books229 followersWalter Wangerin Jr. is widely recognized as one of the most gifted writers writing today on the issues of faith and spirituality. Starting with the renowned Book of the Dun Cow, Wangerin's writing career has encompassed most every genre: fiction, essay, short story, children's story, meditation, and biblical exposition. His writing voice is immediately recognizable, and his fans number in the millions. The author of over forty books, Wangerin has won the National Book Award, New York Times Best Children's Book of the Year Award, and several Gold Medallions, including best-fiction awards for both The Book of God and Paul: A Novel. He lives in Valparaiso, Indiana, where he is Senior Research Professor at Valparaiso University.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 122 reviews
April 29, 2025
{March 2025 Reread}
I’ve told anyone who will listen that this is probably the only book that can make me truly weep at this point in my life. It is, on such a deep level, aptly titled. But the thing is that it is not even, necessarily, the objective narrative plot points that kill you. It’s not just that the knife the story plunges into your heart is a dull and corroded and corrugated one; it’s the specific maneuvering of the way it then twists that knife in what feel like a hundred tiny mutilations, each one new, each one in a way crueler than the last. It’s not just the horrible deaths and the slow insanity and the conflicted betrayals – it’s the ripple effects of each, the agonized question marks punctuating each tragedy. It’s Ferric’s desperate, “One? Two?” It’s De La Coeur’s keening, “But what did I do wrong? Papa! Papa! Papa!” It’s Chauntecleer’s stricken, “John? John Wesley? What are you doing there?” It’s the inexorability of all of this – the growing, sickening conviction that, to paraphrase some of the characters, there is something rotten at the core of the story, and that you are being propelled toward revelations of that decay that you do not want to witness. (Seriously, for a brief moment at one specific point during this reread, I genuinely did not want to keep reading because I knew what was coming and I did not want to see it arrive.)
And, almost more than anything, it’s the writing. Man alive, the writing. It’s far from flawless; there are plenty of cringeworthy moments, but taken as a whole, it’s some of the most remarkable language I’ve ever had the privilege of reading – an elegy at once so beautiful and so brutal that it seems to sting the eyes. Here are the honesty and the anger that Christian literature so sorely needs. Here is the sheer brokenness of a transgressing world. Here is Job’s unbridled anguish. Here is the unvarnished and desolating and ultimately simple reality of sin, and here is the affirmation of goodness and kindness coexisting with that sin.
Wangerin, in this novel, makes so many narrative choices that one wouldn’t necessarily expect him to make, but most of them are shockingly good (though horrifying) ones. During this reread, I was particularly struck by the subtlety and the terror of his characterization of Wyrm. His allegorical devil is so genuinely blasphemous – at several times taking the literal words of the Almighty into his mouth – that I occasionally felt actually uncomfortable reading it. And the chilling “brilliance” of the plot he eventually devises to divide the Keepers is so stark, so insidious, so manipulative that I could shiver. The culminative revelation of that plot in chapter thirty-four, when Chauntecleer finds the truth in the cavern, nearly gives me chills.
As I’ve mentioned before, there is a strong thematic undercurrent of priesthood running through this story. What does it mean to be a faithful leader? Can you be a faithful leader if you also (like our protagonist does) tend toward self-centeredness and glory-seeking? How do you maintain humility as a leader without abandoning your duties in excessive self-abasement?
In a similar vein, another prominent theme – and one of the ones I find most personally meaningful – is the paradox of trying to atone one’s way out of one’s sins. We are each of us responsible for trying to repair, where we can, the damage that our actions wreak. But ultimately, in many circumstances, we cannot even begin to make restitution, so if we are offered forgiveness, the only options before us are to either accept it sans caveat or to reject it sans caveat – we cannot earn it or reimburse it in any particular. And that choice is a writhing one for some of us, and that is because we recoil from the provision of a gift so out of proportion with our deserts, and that is because, at base, such a provision offends our pride. It is not true humility that prompts the protestation of guilt and the hesitation to accept forgiveness; it is arrogance. And that arrogance, like any other shoot of the sin nature within us, must be rooted out and destroyed, abandoned utterly, or there can be no path toward spiritual wholeness.
That is part of what makes the ending of this book so harrowing but so rewarding. The climax is masterfully and dramatically drawn on the narrative face of it, but ultimately it is the simplicity of the thematic journey it concludes that truly drives home the point of the whole book, and its predecessor, for the reader.
A wonder of a novel. A spiritual experience in the truest sense of the term.
{March 2023 Reread}
Truly, as Wangerin writes in the epigraph to one of its parts, “the book of our sins” – our human sins visited upon the innocent and the lowly and the unspeakably, intrinsically noble. The novel is brutal and cruel and comforting and true, eviscerating in its use of anthropomorphism and spirituality to expose how human man has failed in his most primal, most profound Creational calling: to steward, nurture, and protect all animal life. It meditates on grief, priesthood, and the innate nature of good and evil. An immense and intimate book, encompassing firmaments and offering a salve for the wounds it righteously inflicts.
And though he’s unable to stand, the bloody Coyote lifts his face and smiles with an ineffable sadness. “I don’t blame you, Chanty-clear,” he whispers. “Not for this either.”
I’ve told anyone who will listen that this is probably the only book that can make me truly weep at this point in my life. It is, on such a deep level, aptly titled. But the thing is that it is not even, necessarily, the objective narrative plot points that kill you. It’s not just that the knife the story plunges into your heart is a dull and corroded and corrugated one; it’s the specific maneuvering of the way it then twists that knife in what feel like a hundred tiny mutilations, each one new, each one in a way crueler than the last. It’s not just the horrible deaths and the slow insanity and the conflicted betrayals – it’s the ripple effects of each, the agonized question marks punctuating each tragedy. It’s Ferric’s desperate, “One? Two?” It’s De La Coeur’s keening, “But what did I do wrong? Papa! Papa! Papa!” It’s Chauntecleer’s stricken, “John? John Wesley? What are you doing there?” It’s the inexorability of all of this – the growing, sickening conviction that, to paraphrase some of the characters, there is something rotten at the core of the story, and that you are being propelled toward revelations of that decay that you do not want to witness. (Seriously, for a brief moment at one specific point during this reread, I genuinely did not want to keep reading because I knew what was coming and I did not want to see it arrive.)
And, almost more than anything, it’s the writing. Man alive, the writing. It’s far from flawless; there are plenty of cringeworthy moments, but taken as a whole, it’s some of the most remarkable language I’ve ever had the privilege of reading – an elegy at once so beautiful and so brutal that it seems to sting the eyes. Here are the honesty and the anger that Christian literature so sorely needs. Here is the sheer brokenness of a transgressing world. Here is Job’s unbridled anguish. Here is the unvarnished and desolating and ultimately simple reality of sin, and here is the affirmation of goodness and kindness coexisting with that sin.
Wangerin, in this novel, makes so many narrative choices that one wouldn’t necessarily expect him to make, but most of them are shockingly good (though horrifying) ones. During this reread, I was particularly struck by the subtlety and the terror of his characterization of Wyrm. His allegorical devil is so genuinely blasphemous – at several times taking the literal words of the Almighty into his mouth – that I occasionally felt actually uncomfortable reading it. And the chilling “brilliance” of the plot he eventually devises to divide the Keepers is so stark, so insidious, so manipulative that I could shiver. The culminative revelation of that plot in chapter thirty-four, when Chauntecleer finds the truth in the cavern, nearly gives me chills.
Sing, said the air.
The light dimmed itself and said, What shall we sing?
As I’ve mentioned before, there is a strong thematic undercurrent of priesthood running through this story. What does it mean to be a faithful leader? Can you be a faithful leader if you also (like our protagonist does) tend toward self-centeredness and glory-seeking? How do you maintain humility as a leader without abandoning your duties in excessive self-abasement?
In a similar vein, another prominent theme – and one of the ones I find most personally meaningful – is the paradox of trying to atone one’s way out of one’s sins. We are each of us responsible for trying to repair, where we can, the damage that our actions wreak. But ultimately, in many circumstances, we cannot even begin to make restitution, so if we are offered forgiveness, the only options before us are to either accept it sans caveat or to reject it sans caveat – we cannot earn it or reimburse it in any particular. And that choice is a writhing one for some of us, and that is because we recoil from the provision of a gift so out of proportion with our deserts, and that is because, at base, such a provision offends our pride. It is not true humility that prompts the protestation of guilt and the hesitation to accept forgiveness; it is arrogance. And that arrogance, like any other shoot of the sin nature within us, must be rooted out and destroyed, abandoned utterly, or there can be no path toward spiritual wholeness.
That is part of what makes the ending of this book so harrowing but so rewarding. The climax is masterfully and dramatically drawn on the narrative face of it, but ultimately it is the simplicity of the thematic journey it concludes that truly drives home the point of the whole book, and its predecessor, for the reader.
A wonder of a novel. A spiritual experience in the truest sense of the term.
“Do you see the thing that lived in me? ... And can you love me, Pertelote, now that he is out?”
{March 2023 Reread}
Finally, Cock, at the bottom of things, this is the truth that controls the universe: that everyone hurt, hurts back; that everyone cut, cuts back and double. And it has a name, cried the worms inside of him. Its name is Chaos.
Truly, as Wangerin writes in the epigraph to one of its parts, “the book of our sins” – our human sins visited upon the innocent and the lowly and the unspeakably, intrinsically noble. The novel is brutal and cruel and comforting and true, eviscerating in its use of anthropomorphism and spirituality to expose how human man has failed in his most primal, most profound Creational calling: to steward, nurture, and protect all animal life. It meditates on grief, priesthood, and the innate nature of good and evil. An immense and intimate book, encompassing firmaments and offering a salve for the wounds it righteously inflicts.
The Animals were a broad, dark company in the background, Creatures of the earth caught for the last time in a universal assembly, all the breeds and tribes and tongues and nations under heaven. Perhaps they would lie down and sleep right where they were. Perhaps they would travel home in the morning.
March 15, 2021
This book should be more of a a thing.
I read it after Tish Harrison Warren mentioned it in Liturgy of The Ordinary as an excellent read for Lent. So, I have yet to actually read the first or any others in this series. I am still processing, but it definitely took me by surprise how the Creatures captivated me while capturing and displaying elements of my own soul.
I read it after Tish Harrison Warren mentioned it in Liturgy of The Ordinary as an excellent read for Lent. So, I have yet to actually read the first or any others in this series. I am still processing, but it definitely took me by surprise how the Creatures captivated me while capturing and displaying elements of my own soul.
February 14, 2015
This is a hard book for me to review. Don't mind me if I take a minute to cry a little bit more, dry up, and get back to reviewing.
This, the second installment in the trilogy of Chauntecleer the Rooster, improves on the first. Plotwise less occurs, it's slower moving, and there is little to celebrate at the end of the story.
That said, the story is stronger. It has to be as it's telling the biggest story there is, attempting to encapsulate the biggest truths there are. The writing is even more beautiful than in book one, more deliberate, more illustrative, like a painting (but not in an obnoxiously descriptive way). Wangerin is a master with his pen. I can't believe that could stay in bed all day and find myself gasping over the demise of a small Coyote,
but I did.
I strongly encourage anyone that loves reading to attend to these books. Be open to what he's trying to say -- his religious themes are unabashed, and they have to be in order for these stories to work. Wangerin doesn't shy away from death or murder or violence, but he doesn't shy away from holiness and penitence or objective truth, either. Using animals! I can't get over how effective this device has been.
In a commonality that I'm seeing most of the books I've read the last few years share, The Book of Sorrows challenges the reader by braiding up evil and good within the main character and compelling us to decide how we feel about what happens to them.
Totally brilliant and moving. Looking forward to reading the third and last installment -- once I've recovered from this one.
This, the second installment in the trilogy of Chauntecleer the Rooster, improves on the first. Plotwise less occurs, it's slower moving, and there is little to celebrate at the end of the story.
That said, the story is stronger. It has to be as it's telling the biggest story there is, attempting to encapsulate the biggest truths there are. The writing is even more beautiful than in book one, more deliberate, more illustrative, like a painting (but not in an obnoxiously descriptive way). Wangerin is a master with his pen. I can't believe that could stay in bed all day and find myself gasping over the demise of a small Coyote,
but I did.
I strongly encourage anyone that loves reading to attend to these books. Be open to what he's trying to say -- his religious themes are unabashed, and they have to be in order for these stories to work. Wangerin doesn't shy away from death or murder or violence, but he doesn't shy away from holiness and penitence or objective truth, either. Using animals! I can't get over how effective this device has been.
In a commonality that I'm seeing most of the books I've read the last few years share, The Book of Sorrows challenges the reader by braiding up evil and good within the main character and compelling us to decide how we feel about what happens to them.
Totally brilliant and moving. Looking forward to reading the third and last installment -- once I've recovered from this one.
April 7, 2023
I don't even know what to say about this book. If there was a lingering sense of sorrow and tragedy despite the victory over evil in the first book, this one takes those themes and multiplies them in a grim way. Chauntecleer is a hero that far too many of us can identify with, and perhaps that's why this story's violence and brutality cuts so deep.
October 22, 2016
I tend to consider myself pretty tough when reading those "emotional" kinds of books. Those gimmicky "oh this book is totally gonna make you cry at the end" books that become national bestsellers and eventual film adaptations usually have little to no emotional impact on me. I have claimed in a few past book reviews that "oh this book left me in tears" or "oh this book had me crying like a baby." To be honest, though, I exaggerated a little. When I said that "this book had me crying like a baby", what I really meant was that that particular book was very beautiful and touching, but my tears were really only a faint wateriness of the eyes, or one or two silent tears.
This book left me with SO MUCH MORE than just a wateriness of the eyes or a few silent tears. I was weeping so loudly and so conspicuously that my dad actually stopped what he was doing and asked if I was okay. I told him that I had just finished reading an emotionally devastating book. He responded, "That's a very special book right there. It's rare for an author to bring out such powerful emotions in a reader."
This is indeed a very special book. It's so special, and so heart-rending, that I would probably never be able to read it again (just too damn sad, even if the ending is somewhat bittersweet)...but happily there's a third and final book to follow, meaning that there's still a chance for a brighter future for Chauntecleer's kingdom in the wake of all this tragedy.
Because my god, do these characters DESERVE a happier ending.
This book left me with SO MUCH MORE than just a wateriness of the eyes or a few silent tears. I was weeping so loudly and so conspicuously that my dad actually stopped what he was doing and asked if I was okay. I told him that I had just finished reading an emotionally devastating book. He responded, "That's a very special book right there. It's rare for an author to bring out such powerful emotions in a reader."
This is indeed a very special book. It's so special, and so heart-rending, that I would probably never be able to read it again (just too damn sad, even if the ending is somewhat bittersweet)...but happily there's a third and final book to follow, meaning that there's still a chance for a brighter future for Chauntecleer's kingdom in the wake of all this tragedy.
Because my god, do these characters DESERVE a happier ending.
January 10, 2012
this one hits so close to home.
it makes me believe again.
it makes me believe again.
September 5, 2022
What to say about this? The first book surprised me, but I was totally unprepared for the sequel. It’s devastating and essential reading.
September 6, 2025
It's hard to put to words a novel which at the same time is heavy, hard to read, ugly and gross in parts (I did not care for the wormy body horror even though it was an accurate allegory), but also beautiful, and profound.
So while I can't say I enjoyed reading it entirely, I did enjoy it as a whole, seeing the themes of the gospel come together as well as heavy themes of grief, sin nature, and the essence of evil in its contrary nature to all things good. And it is certainly a more violent and grotesque story than its predecessor.
Then there is the issue of likability. So while Chauntecleer is a realistic portrayal, I did find him hard to like and root for. I get it too, that’ part of the point for the whole allegory to work, but it did worsen the reading experience in some ways so that when it gets to the point we have to care for him; I found it rather difficult.
So while, I found I enjoyed the first Dun Cow book more due to a tighter story; there are more rich themes entwined in this particular entry, longer and less focused, though it be.
And maybe that's because this one hits more close to home where we all can feel the struggles of sin and temptation and hardships of resisting sin nature.
So while I can't say I enjoyed reading it entirely, I did enjoy it as a whole, seeing the themes of the gospel come together as well as heavy themes of grief, sin nature, and the essence of evil in its contrary nature to all things good. And it is certainly a more violent and grotesque story than its predecessor.
Then there is the issue of likability. So while Chauntecleer is a realistic portrayal, I did find him hard to like and root for. I get it too, that’ part of the point for the whole allegory to work, but it did worsen the reading experience in some ways so that when it gets to the point we have to care for him; I found it rather difficult.
So while, I found I enjoyed the first Dun Cow book more due to a tighter story; there are more rich themes entwined in this particular entry, longer and less focused, though it be.
And maybe that's because this one hits more close to home where we all can feel the struggles of sin and temptation and hardships of resisting sin nature.
April 13, 2016
This 2013 rewrite of The Book of Sorrows is...interesting.
On one hand, it helps to create a somewhat stronger sense of continuity between Lamentations and The Book of the Dun Cow. In Sorrows, certain memorable side characters that made a strong impression in the first book didn't make any appearances whatsoever. It was as if in the decade-long gap between Dun Cow and Sorrows, Wangerin completely forgot about those characters and didn't bother to skim through the first book before writing the sequel. Lamentations remedies this by including these characters in the main plot, and not just shoehorning them in where he can, but actually integrating them into the story.
There are also some interesting implications of a literal connection between this realm of talking animals and the Garden of Eden.
On the other hand, because this book has been so heavily streamlined (one could even say abridged) from the original, many of the elements that made Sorrows such a powerful and devastating book are missing, making this rewrite seem a bit shallow by comparison. Many of the dramatic scenes from Sorrows are shortened down to only a few pages or a few paragraphs, and in some cases are changed entirely. Chauntecleer's motives for confronting Wyrm seemed much more complex in Sorrows, going beyond mere pride as it is in Lamentations.
In short, there are some interesting ideas and nice continuity nods, but not nearly as strong a story as in The Book of Sorrows. I will give this book some credit, however. If it wasn't for this rewrite, we would have no third and final book: Peace at the Last, because the conclusion of Sorrows, as magnificent a book as it is, would have been a SAAAAAAAD note to go out on. Now at least there's still a chance for these characters (who have been through absolute hell) to get a well-deserved happier ending.
On one hand, it helps to create a somewhat stronger sense of continuity between Lamentations and The Book of the Dun Cow. In Sorrows, certain memorable side characters that made a strong impression in the first book didn't make any appearances whatsoever. It was as if in the decade-long gap between Dun Cow and Sorrows, Wangerin completely forgot about those characters and didn't bother to skim through the first book before writing the sequel. Lamentations remedies this by including these characters in the main plot, and not just shoehorning them in where he can, but actually integrating them into the story.
There are also some interesting implications of a literal connection between this realm of talking animals and the Garden of Eden.
On the other hand, because this book has been so heavily streamlined (one could even say abridged) from the original, many of the elements that made Sorrows such a powerful and devastating book are missing, making this rewrite seem a bit shallow by comparison. Many of the dramatic scenes from Sorrows are shortened down to only a few pages or a few paragraphs, and in some cases are changed entirely. Chauntecleer's motives for confronting Wyrm seemed much more complex in Sorrows, going beyond mere pride as it is in Lamentations.
In short, there are some interesting ideas and nice continuity nods, but not nearly as strong a story as in The Book of Sorrows. I will give this book some credit, however. If it wasn't for this rewrite, we would have no third and final book: Peace at the Last, because the conclusion of Sorrows, as magnificent a book as it is, would have been a SAAAAAAAD note to go out on. Now at least there's still a chance for these characters (who have been through absolute hell) to get a well-deserved happier ending.
May 3, 2025
This wasn't the absolute masterpiece that Dun Cow was, but it still had its moments. I have to admit, if it had a brighter ending to cap the sorrow after sorrow after sorrow I would have given it 5 stars. But, even with the warning of the title, I felt like it was too much of a drag.
July 27, 2012
Walter Wangerin, Jr. here produces a sequel that explores the emotional, relational, and spiritual themes of its predecessor in even more depth. The book is not a children's fairy tale. It is sometimes graphic, but always powerful. I sometimes laughed and sometimes had to turn away and catch my breath. On several occasions I nearly threw the book across the room. The Book of Sorrows is not misnamed. It is sad, one of the saddest stories I have ever read, and one of the most lingering. You can't shake it. But you won't necessarily want to, because the tale has much good to say about how we view ourselves and how we give and accept love. Accepting love may sometimes be harder, and accepting forgiveness can be as difficult as forgiving others.
The characters in this story cannot be forgotten. They have life and breath. They feel. They enter into your heart. But they are not alone. Evil is preparing for the pounce, and that is much as things are in the world we live in, where evil is always ready to overtake us if we are not on gaurd against it. I think of God's warning to Cain in the book of Genesis: "Sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it."
Do not read this book without reading The Book of the Dun Cow. But once you have, don't neglect The Book of Sorrows.
The characters in this story cannot be forgotten. They have life and breath. They feel. They enter into your heart. But they are not alone. Evil is preparing for the pounce, and that is much as things are in the world we live in, where evil is always ready to overtake us if we are not on gaurd against it. I think of God's warning to Cain in the book of Genesis: "Sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it."
Do not read this book without reading The Book of the Dun Cow. But once you have, don't neglect The Book of Sorrows.
July 4, 2025
"The Book of Sorrows pays close attention to the motives of society's leaders and the effects of their behaviors upon the societies they lead. It is never enough merely to know and discuss the evils to ourselves. The Chauntecleer who leads his Coop against Wyrm, if he does not examine and know his own character, shall become the evil within the Coop. If Dun Cow drove me to a sacrifice for the saving of a community, then Sorrows brought me to another act, more personal, for the solving of our own internal sinnings: forgiveness." ~ the man himself
I don't have anything worthwhile to add to that, but watch me ramble on anyway.
This story hurts, burns, shatters, sears. I can't remember the last time I cried this much over a book; I don't think I've ever seen a more honest and brutal accounting of the way that misplaced pride and misused guilt lead once-good leaders astray, or of how destructive lies are made to appear more right and reasonable than good words. Yet it's also brimming with love and light, contrasted against and inseparable from the grief. The writing defies description altogether. I love it, I hate it, I give up on trying to adequately express my feelings about it - it's a masterpiece, and aptly titled, and that's enough.
I don't have anything worthwhile to add to that, but watch me ramble on anyway.
This story hurts, burns, shatters, sears. I can't remember the last time I cried this much over a book; I don't think I've ever seen a more honest and brutal accounting of the way that misplaced pride and misused guilt lead once-good leaders astray, or of how destructive lies are made to appear more right and reasonable than good words. Yet it's also brimming with love and light, contrasted against and inseparable from the grief. The writing defies description altogether. I love it, I hate it, I give up on trying to adequately express my feelings about it - it's a masterpiece, and aptly titled, and that's enough.
June 20, 2019
So many precious moments of love, care, and comedy within this tiny animal kingdom. Pertelote, John Wesley Weasel, and the Tags shine with ease. Their lives are delightful single short stories woven into Chauntecleer's.
I was most touched by the sweet story of Ferric the Coyote who, for me, replaced that of the protagonist Chauntecleer. I realize that Chauntecleer had to face the consequences of his selfish choices, but his deep losses drained my empathy. Yes, his humanity is realistic but ultimately, it is absolutely tragic.
I was most touched by the sweet story of Ferric the Coyote who, for me, replaced that of the protagonist Chauntecleer. I realize that Chauntecleer had to face the consequences of his selfish choices, but his deep losses drained my empathy. Yes, his humanity is realistic but ultimately, it is absolutely tragic.
August 28, 2021
I know this is called the book of SORROWS, so I should not have been surprised by how deeply sad this book was. And so very difficult to read at parts. But it was also deeply GOOD. Even though he wrote it from the point of view of animals, it was the entire human experience - all the bad that we bring to the world and the mess that we make of things. And the ultimate redemption, which we don’t deserve.
April 11, 2024
Our beloved booklub chased the first macabre animal fable into the second. Here things got a little (okay a lot) confusing... as it seems our fellow Wangerin decided to rewrite this book, some 20 years after he first wrote it, and did not expand the book (as one would assume) but trim'd it right down. Well, that is fine, except when half of the book club crew has one edition and the rest of us have the other. I had this elongated edition. We tried our best to get to the bottom of why and never quite settled on any answer that was particularly satisfying... but! That being done...
This one is somewhat more dense (and certainly more tragic) than the first. I found the epic arc of the initial book a bit unsatisfying, finding Wangerin's strength to be in his complex eloquent and particular style of emotional description. Here he kind of gets to dive headlong into the deep end of that. It can still be a bit difficult to follow as he moves from a focus on one character (or set of characters) and then jumps to another. There is plenty to really love though, as it captures these rather moving portraits of struggle and grief. The re-write is called "Lamentations" which is appropriate as several characters are given to great cries against the seeming injustice of life (despite the promise of divine love and order). This is one of those funny books where it can be a bit explicitly theological, but it's also so harrowing and violent at times that I could see most "Christian fiction" readers quite turned off. There are no easy answers here, and several all-night watches of the night in which prayers are given at the late hour, cries of "How long oh Lord?" and "Why Oh Lord?" that seem to go unanswered. It's gritty stuff.
In the final act a new villain somewhat surfaces that feels a bit odd, one of those stories that seems to evolve as the tale is told and feels less overarchingly crafted. Yet I was fully taken by its willingness to portray the blinding damage of pride, self-pity and despair. And in contrast, the simple elegance of kindness and generosity within the context of community.
Not for the faint of heart! If that's you, they have a whole shelf of Amish romance at your local church library, I'm not going to read any of it, but maybe that's what you're looking for. We're headed next into one of Wangerin's non-fiction collections, then perhaps back to finish off the trilogy!
This one is somewhat more dense (and certainly more tragic) than the first. I found the epic arc of the initial book a bit unsatisfying, finding Wangerin's strength to be in his complex eloquent and particular style of emotional description. Here he kind of gets to dive headlong into the deep end of that. It can still be a bit difficult to follow as he moves from a focus on one character (or set of characters) and then jumps to another. There is plenty to really love though, as it captures these rather moving portraits of struggle and grief. The re-write is called "Lamentations" which is appropriate as several characters are given to great cries against the seeming injustice of life (despite the promise of divine love and order). This is one of those funny books where it can be a bit explicitly theological, but it's also so harrowing and violent at times that I could see most "Christian fiction" readers quite turned off. There are no easy answers here, and several all-night watches of the night in which prayers are given at the late hour, cries of "How long oh Lord?" and "Why Oh Lord?" that seem to go unanswered. It's gritty stuff.
In the final act a new villain somewhat surfaces that feels a bit odd, one of those stories that seems to evolve as the tale is told and feels less overarchingly crafted. Yet I was fully taken by its willingness to portray the blinding damage of pride, self-pity and despair. And in contrast, the simple elegance of kindness and generosity within the context of community.
Not for the faint of heart! If that's you, they have a whole shelf of Amish romance at your local church library, I'm not going to read any of it, but maybe that's what you're looking for. We're headed next into one of Wangerin's non-fiction collections, then perhaps back to finish off the trilogy!
July 26, 2007
[SPOILER] This sequel to The Book of the Dun Cow takes place in the time after the great war between the animals ruled by Chauntecleer, and Wyrm, the serpentine, subterranean embodiment of cosmic evil. It is unbelievably bleak and difficult to read. The stench of death runs through the book. Even though Wyrm had been defeated in the first novel, and is in fact dead, evil is still very powerful and seeps into the fabric of society, taking control of even Chauntecleer. All the way through chapter 49 (of 50 plus an epilogue) the reader is tempted to despair that hope can never be restored. But then, finally, Ferric Coyote stops the cycle of "Everyone cut, cuts back again" by forgiving Chauntecleer, and a small glimmer of hope returns, but not before Chauntecleer dies.
The book is truly a book of sorrows. Not for the faint of heart. Well-written, but extremely heavy, and I'm not sure true to real life lived in this fallen world. Maybe in some people's experiences there is nothing but death and putrefaction, but I think there is much more beauty than Wangerin gives credit to. That's not to say the book isn't without its moments of tenderness and humor, e.g., when the goofy goats refuse to eat the meager food offered by the mice during the famine but rather pee on it in contempt, and then Pertelote makes them eat it anyway, saying "if you don't like it seasoned, don't season it." But these rare moments are all within the overarching sadness of a very depressing tale.
The book is truly a book of sorrows. Not for the faint of heart. Well-written, but extremely heavy, and I'm not sure true to real life lived in this fallen world. Maybe in some people's experiences there is nothing but death and putrefaction, but I think there is much more beauty than Wangerin gives credit to. That's not to say the book isn't without its moments of tenderness and humor, e.g., when the goofy goats refuse to eat the meager food offered by the mice during the famine but rather pee on it in contempt, and then Pertelote makes them eat it anyway, saying "if you don't like it seasoned, don't season it." But these rare moments are all within the overarching sadness of a very depressing tale.
January 3, 2008
All I can say yet is that it is as good as Dun Cow. Also that one would definately have to read Dun Cow before touching this--it would make sense I guess, but it wouldn't have the emotional power with the opening chapters (you wouldn't know how these characters connected, nor the distress at not having a home--)
I finished this in one big gulp, and I can confidently say that there hasn't been a set of books that had so many Characters I loved since Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass. I love the Tags (the seven little mice brothers), I love Pertolote and Chalcedony, but most of all I love John Wesley Weasel.
If I was a publisher, I would put this in one set with The Book of Dun Cow and sell it two for one. Neither is complete without the other, that's for sure.
I finished this in one big gulp, and I can confidently say that there hasn't been a set of books that had so many Characters I loved since Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass. I love the Tags (the seven little mice brothers), I love Pertolote and Chalcedony, but most of all I love John Wesley Weasel.
If I was a publisher, I would put this in one set with The Book of Dun Cow and sell it two for one. Neither is complete without the other, that's for sure.
June 30, 2010
This book knocked me out. Wow. Heavy, powerful stuff. The follow up to the Book of the Dun Cow is a tale fiercely fought for redemption from evil, a tale of what it means to bear with those suffering, about never taking salvation into our own hands. The salvation in the book is beautifully rendered because it is tragically needed - when all hope seems gone. It is in these moments, where the currency of the world, where "everyone cut cuts back twice" is shown for what it is, and bearing pain instead of inflicting it is the power of grace. There is so much here, so much sorrow, so much tragedy, and it is in these moments where we realize what we really need, not to save, but to be saved from ourselves, from others, from the way things work here. It is an important book in my understanding of the workings of grace.
September 3, 2016
This sequel to The Book of the Dun Cow is almost as good as the original, featuring a frightening war between good and evil as represented by Chauntecleer the Rooster and Wyrm. Yes, this is fantasy fiction, but beautifully written and spellbinding at times.
This sequel is darker than the first book, due to Wyrm taking center stage. The reader feels for the Rooster and his bouts of self-doubt. At times it takes on a Homeric tone, one mirroring the same Cold War reality of the 1980s. I certainly identified with each animal and view this book, along with its original, as a true fable for the modern world.
Book Season = Autumn (Wyrm's season)
This sequel is darker than the first book, due to Wyrm taking center stage. The reader feels for the Rooster and his bouts of self-doubt. At times it takes on a Homeric tone, one mirroring the same Cold War reality of the 1980s. I certainly identified with each animal and view this book, along with its original, as a true fable for the modern world.
Book Season = Autumn (Wyrm's season)
October 17, 2013
Very aptly named... I couldn't stop crying. It was a little too sad for me to love as much as The Book of the Dun Cow, but still a beautiful book. It poignantly illustrates the nature of evil, the despair, pain, and futility of seeking to pay penance, take vengeance, or earn love on our own merit, and the beauty of sacrifice, the release of facing our sins, receiving forgiveness, and having the humility to accept love despite our flaws and failings, and in turn to forgive and love even those who harm us most.
February 13, 2023
Looking forward to "Peace at the Last" in the last installment, because this was a sad read. Wangerin does well writing action scenes, but what action is here is tragic.
My edition--Diversion Books paperback, June 2013 printing--was loaded with typographical errors (punctuation mistakes, misspellings, etc.), which was quite irksome. So all in all, it wasn't a bad book, but I'm glad to be finished.
My edition--Diversion Books paperback, June 2013 printing--was loaded with typographical errors (punctuation mistakes, misspellings, etc.), which was quite irksome. So all in all, it wasn't a bad book, but I'm glad to be finished.
February 28, 2013
it definitely lives up to its title. though beautiful in its prose, it just seems to drag on, too often rehashing the same pessimistic emotions over and over and over and over and...over. wake up, Chauntecleer! snap out of it already! furthermore, the ending was anticlimactic and too sentimental, though it is still worth reading. excellent characterization.
August 7, 2010
There haven't been many books that have affected me as much as this one. I can't even put it into words, but I needed this... the depression and all...
May 9, 2018
This book is not for the faint of heart. Perhaps the most achingly sad book I've ever read, Lamentations has left me no choice but to read book three, if only in the hopes of finding hope.
February 20, 2022
Heart wrenching. Rushing to start the third book. John Wesley Weasel shines.
April 22, 2024
this was actually way better than the first book but i do miss mundo cani dog 😔
June 23, 2025
I don't know if the author was severely depressed or lost his mind during the writing of this book. Maybe he's just a sadist. I loved the Book of the Dun Cow. This sequel is the most morbid, morose, bleak, depressing and senseless book I have ever read. It's just one horrible tragedy after another with no redemption. I kept hoping it would get better but it's just a steady downward sprial straight to hell. Do yourself a favor and skip this book unless you enjoy being depressed.
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December 28, 20252025 December 27. Can I finish the sequel before school resumes? After 30 pages: after noticing a few oddities, I looked up a scan of the original edition of the book. The 2013 Kindle and the 1985 paperback are significantly different from each other. The Kindle edition has a new title, new chapter divisions, and at least some new content; has it also introduced errors? Decided: quitting the digital version, will switch to the HarperCollins original.
November 27, 2024
What was Wangerin going for here? Yes, it's about grief and (sort of) what it can do to us; but it's such a jumble that it doesn't actually hold together. If it's about grief, let it be about grief, and don't mix the Wyrm into things. Basically, a big mess and poorly proofread.
July 21, 2025
Wangerin has so masterfully told this story that I didn't think it was a story because I was in it. I don't think I've ever cried for pages and pages and yet want to read them all again immediately afterward. Please, read this book (after you've read The Book of the Dun Cow).
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