Katherine Paterson is not only one of the greatest writers of her time, but also one of the most versatile. Equally at home creating a powerful story in a novel such as her award-winning Bridge to Terabithia, a picture book like The Wide-Awake Princess or an early reader in the vein of The Smallest Cow in the World, Katherine Paterson has proven herself time and time again over a legendary career that spans decades of uniform excellence. Several of the greatest books I've ever read have come from the tip of her matchless pen, works of literature that profoundly changed me and the way I view the world. While The Smallest Cow in the World may be more limited in scope than some of Katherine Paterson's literary achievements, the power is nonetheless evident in its sixty-four pages, in lingering reminders of the emotions that connect us all and the lengths we will go to in order to preserve what is most important in our lives.
No one but Marvin Gates has much use for Rosie the cow around Brock's farm, where Marvin's family lives and his father works. Rosie's a mean one, all right, ramming the dog, swishing her tail in people's faces, stepping on their feet, shoving them up against walls. Out of ninety-seven cows on Brock's farm, Rosie alone is this ornery, and only Marvin gets along well with her. She doesn't push him into walls or step on his toes by "accident". Somehow, in Marvin's young eyes, Rosie is "the most beautiful cow in the world", and her personality flaws don't mean as much to him as the fact that he loves her, warts and all. But the day comes when Mr. Brock decides to retire from the farming life and divest himself of all his livestock. Marvin's family will have to find a new farm to live and work on, but worse than that, Mr. Brock sells Rosie. Now Marvin will never see her again.
Friendship can't be figured by adding and subtracting good points and bad, settling finally on a sum total of what two people are worth when taken as a single unit. There's too much intangibility involved for a presence as unexplainable as friendship to ever be fully understood. Marvin loses his grasp on happiness once Rosie is gone, and it doesn't help that everyone tells him she was just a mean old cow and he has no cause to miss her, let alone cry and mourn over her every day. When Marvin finally accepts he's never going to see Rosie again, his coping reaction isn't a wholly positive one, but it may be necessary. Over time, his family gently shows him that all the uncertainty of the move from Brock's farm is in the past, and he doesn't need to worry about ever again losing what is most important to him. Love holds on tightly, and a saddened heart often rejects comfort when it needs it most, but Marvin's family loves him, too, and they'll help him through the hard days of transition that come with having had to move without his best friend. Even if Marvin never will truly leave Rosie behind.
No matter how prickly we may be, no matter how resistant to the warming touch of friendship, no matter how me may bare our teeth in defiance of the world around us when it tries to get close, wary of the sneaky way hurt has of leaping out and attacking us from places far too close for comfort, all of us need a Marvin in our lives, someone who loves us and wants to keep us near for no reason we can understand. They just love us, is all. Rosie isn't a jovial cow, loving and lovable and easy to see why one would want to spend time around her. She's no natural charmer, but she doesn't have to be. Marvin loves her just for being her, "the most beautiful cow in the world" to him, even if no one else can see it. When a friendship of that noble caliber is made, the joy of its very existence is worthy to be celebrated, and the world joins together in silent, profound praise of it, and grieves just as silently and profoundly when the two halves of the friendship are pulled apart. It is this powerful emotional sympathy of the earth that we feel while reading The Smallest Cow in the World, and which lifts the book above just being a simple early reader and allows it to become a work of fine literature. Katherine Paterson works wonders on the printed page, and always has.
If I were to compare the quality of this book with that of the author's enduring classics, I doubt it would rank in the top five or ten. In its own right, however, The Smallest Cow in the World is a moving and eye-opening story that no lover of great books should miss. Its small size makes it accessible for even the youngest readers, and the scope of its emotional meaning is broad enough that anyone will be able to relate to it. In my opinion, you can't go wrong reading this book.