Book of the Dun Cow

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Overview

Walter Wangerin's profound fantasy concerns a time when the sun turned around the earth and the animals could speak, when Chauntecleer the Rooster ruled over a more or less peaceful kingdom. What the animals did not know was that they were the Keepers of Wyrm, monster of evil long imprisoned beneath the earth ... and Wyrm, sub terra, was breaking free.

Winner of the 1980 National Book Award

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Overview

Walter Wangerin's profound fantasy concerns a time when the sun turned around the earth and the animals could speak, when Chauntecleer the Rooster ruled over a more or less peaceful kingdom. What the animals did not know was that they were the Keepers of Wyrm, monster of evil long imprisoned beneath the earth ... and Wyrm, sub terra, was breaking free.

Winner of the 1980 National Book Award

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Editorial Reviews

George A. Wood
Far and away the most literate and intelligent story of the year....Produces a resonance; it is a taut string plucked that reverberates in memory. -- The New York Times
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781596445239
  • Publisher: Christianaudio Fiction
  • Publication date: 9/28/2007
  • Format: CD
  • Edition description: Unabridged
  • Product dimensions: 5.10 (w) x 6.00 (h) x 0.80 (d)

Meet the Author

Walter Wangerin Jr. is the National Book Award-winning author of The Book of the Dun Cow. His other books include The Book of God, Ragman and Other Cries of Faith, and Miz Lil and the Chronicles of Grace.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

How Mundo Cani came to live with Chauntecleer

In the middle of the night somebody began to cry outside of Chauntecleer's Coop. If it had been but a few sprinkled tears with nothing more than a moan or two, Chauntecleer would probably not have minded. But this crying was more than a gentle moan. By each dark hour of the night it grew. It became a decided wail, and after that it became a definite howl. And howling — particularly at the door of his Coop, and in the middle of the night — howling Chauntecleer minded very much.

Chauntecleer the Rooster had trouble sleeping anyway, though this was no one's fault but his own. He snored. Well, Chauntecleer called it a snore, and everybody else who lived in his Coop called it a snore, too. But everybody else knew secretly that it was a positive crow.

This is the way that it went: As dusk fell, the whole company of the Coop would take to their roosts, tuck their heads deep into their neck and shoulder feathers, ruffle, Cluck, and fall asleep — Chauntecleer among them. For the space of several hours, silence and contentment would fill the Coop, and sleep was good. But then Chauntecleer would begin to dream; and with his dream he would set up such a sudden, loud, and raucous snoring that every living soul in the neighborhood of the Coop would wake up. Immediately they all had a job to do. They had to pretend that they were still asleep, because it was Chauntecleer's snore, after all.

When his snores came close to the sound of thunder, then Chauntecleer woke up, too. With aheadache. And he wouldn't pretend: He was awake, and he was angry aboutit. He'd cock his eye angrily at this creature and that, looking for guilt, waiting until one poor soul 'couldn't stand it any longer — and moved!

"You!" Chauntecleer would cry, and the Hen would wilt, moving very much all of a sudden. "Ah-ha -ha! You!" The Rooster's comb would stand up like a fan on the top of his head. He would flut down and strut up to the sad Hen and fix her with a one-eyed stare from the side of his rooster head.

"You! You! You! Sleep on my straw. Eat my grain. Hide from the wind, and dry from the rain. And how do you repay my great goodness to you? You woke ME! How do you like that? And what's more, you woke me UP"

Then Chauntecleer would make a noise which he considered to be something better than a snore. It was a true crow; and it entered the shivering Hen's ear with such a force that she wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night. Back to his perch the Rooster would grump, twisting and turning and mumbling his perturbation: He did most certainly despise to be awakened from his dreams. But finally he would nod and dream again.

It was more than a fact that Chauntecleer the Rooster had trouble sleeping. It was also a well-known fact. All the Coop had a healthy fear of awakening his feathered thunder. Therefore, when someone began to weep outside of his Coop one night, everybody heard it, but nobody moved. And when weeping became wailing, they pretended with a skill both admirable and desperate. And when wailing developed into pure howling, why, every last Chicken turned into a stone.

Oh, their hearts were moved. Who wouldn't be moved to pity by that sad, sad voice? Who wouldn't let a tear roll down her beak to hear of the grief which this voice had to tell? All the world seemed a lonely place at the sound of this voice, it wept so pitifully. This voice could make even the stones to cry — which became a particular problem for some thirty Chickens who were trying hard to be stones.

"Marooned," he cried, whoever he was out there. "Marooooned," he wailed. Three stones sniffed, and sixty eyes shot frightened glances at Chauntecleer; but the Rooster slept on.

The voice sounded like ancient shoe leather.

"Don't listen to me," he cried out. "Every good heart should sleep on. No one should be troubled with the burdens which it is given me to bear. Sleep!" he sighed. "Sleep on, peaceful souls!" he wailed. And then he howled: "Marooooooooooned!"

A little dribble hung down from Chauntecleer's beak, a wet string which went from the tip of his beak to the bottom of his wattle. This was a good sign. It meant that he was sleeping very deeply, and perhaps the Chickens would be safe. Yet no sign was absolute; and this was a most unusual occurrence, this voice abroad; so the Chickens continued to pretend and to fear.

The voice sounded like a mud slide.

"Ah, me! What I could have been in a better place. Such a wonderful somebody I should have been," he wept, "that it would have been a pleasure to look at. But this is the place, and this is the me. Look at me, and be sad. See me and be sorrowful. No!" he wailed suddenly. "No, don't look! No one should be burdened with such a sight — a walking sin. But sleep," he wailed. "Sleep and be what I can never be. It does my soul good to know that someone is at peace. Sleep." And then he howled like the north. wind: "Maroooooooned!"

Chauntecleer stirred. He pulled one claw off the perch. Two Chickens fainted; but it was just motion in his sleep. Restless sleep, now; but sleep all the same.

"And what about this nose?" cried the voice outside, wounded deeply by this new sorrow. "All of you, count yourselves blessed. Go home and call yourselves fortunate before the mirror! For if you wish, you can turn your eyes and look away from this monster of a nose. But me?"

Book of the Dun Cow. Copyright © by Walter Wangerin. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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First Chapter

Chapter One

How Mundo Cani came to live with Chauntecleer

In the middle of the night somebody began to cry outside of Chauntecleer's Coop. If it had been but a few sprinkled tears with nothing more than a moan or two, Chauntecleer would probably not have minded. But this crying was more than a gentle moan. By each dark hour of the night it grew. It became a decided wail, and after that it became a definite howl. And howling -- particularly at the door of his Coop, and in the middle of the night -- howling Chauntecleer minded very much.

Chauntecleer the Rooster had trouble sleeping anyway, though this was no one's fault but his own. He snored. Well, Chauntecleer called it a snore, and everybody else who lived in his Coop called it a snore, too. But everybody else knew secretly that it was a positive crow.

This is the way that it went: As dusk fell, the whole company of the Coop would take to their roosts, tuck their heads deep into their neck and shoulder feathers, ruffle, Cluck, and fall asleep -- Chauntecleer among them. For the space of several hours, silence and contentment would fill the Coop, and sleep was good. But then Chauntecleer would begin to dream; and with his dream he would set up such a sudden, loud, and raucous snoring that every living soul in the neighborhood of the Coop would wake up. Immediately they all had a job to do. They had to pretend that they were still asleep, because it was Chauntecleer's snore, after all.

When his snores came close to the sound of thunder, then Chauntecleer woke up, too. With a headache. And hewouldn't pretend: He was awake, and he was angry aboutit. He'd cock his eye angrily at this creature and that, looking for guilt, waiting until one poor soul 'couldn't stand it any longer -- and moved!

"You!" Chauntecleer would cry, and the Hen would wilt, moving very much all of a sudden. "Ah-ha -ha! You!" The Rooster's comb would stand up like a fan on the top of his head. He would flut down and strut up to the sad Hen and fix her with a one-eyed stare from the side of his rooster head.

"You! You! You! Sleep on my straw. Eat my grain. Hide from the wind, and dry from the rain. And how do you repay my great goodness to you? You woke ME! How do you like that? And what's more, you woke me UP"

Then Chauntecleer would make a noise which he considered to be something better than a snore. It was a true crow; and it entered the shivering Hen's ear with such a force that she wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night. Back to his perch the Rooster would grump, twisting and turning and mumbling his perturbation: He did most certainly despise to be awakened from his dreams. But finally he would nod and dream again.

It was more than a fact that Chauntecleer the Rooster had trouble sleeping. It was also a well-known fact. All the Coop had a healthy fear of awakening his feathered thunder. Therefore, when someone began to weep outside of his Coop one night, everybody heard it, but nobody moved. And when weeping became wailing, they pretended with a skill both admirable and desperate. And when wailing developed into pure howling, why, every last Chicken turned into a stone.

Oh, their hearts were moved. Who wouldn't be moved to pity by that sad, sad voice? Who wouldn't let a tear roll down her beak to hear of the grief which this voice had to tell? All the world seemed a lonely place at the sound of this voice, it wept so pitifully. This voice could make even the stones to cry -- which became a particular problem for some thirty Chickens who were trying hard to be stones.

"Marooned," he cried, whoever he was out there. "Marooooned," he wailed. Three stones sniffed, and sixty eyes shot frightened glances at Chauntecleer; but the Rooster slept on.

The voice sounded like ancient shoe leather.

"Don't listen to me," he cried out. "Every good heart should sleep on. No one should be troubled with the burdens which it is given me to bear. Sleep!" he sighed. "Sleep on, peaceful souls!" he wailed. And then he howled: "Marooooooooooned!"

A little dribble hung down from Chauntecleer's beak, a wet string which went from the tip of his beak to the bottom of his wattle. This was a good sign. It meant that he was sleeping very deeply, and perhaps the Chickens would be safe. Yet no sign was absolute; and this was a most unusual occurrence, this voice abroad; so the Chickens continued to pretend and to fear.

The voice sounded like a mud slide.

"Ah, me! What I could have been in a better place. Such a wonderful somebody I should have been," he wept, "that it would have been a pleasure to look at. But this is the place, and this is the me. Look at me, and be sad. See me and be sorrowful. No!" he wailed suddenly. "No, don't look! No one should be burdened with such a sight -- a walking sin. But sleep," he wailed. "Sleep and be what I can never be. It does my soul good to know that someone is at peace. Sleep." And then he howled like the north. wind: "Maroooooooned!"

Chauntecleer stirred. He pulled one claw off the perch. Two Chickens fainted; but it was just motion in his sleep. Restless sleep, now; but sleep all the same.

"And what about this nose?" cried the voice outside, wounded deeply by this new sorrow. "All of you, count yourselves blessed. Go home and call yourselves fortunate before the mirror! For if you wish, you can turn your eyes and look away from this monster of a nose. But me?"

The Book of the Dun Cow. Copyright © by Walter Wangerin. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 6 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 9 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 30, 2000

    Emotion Capturing !

    Having first read 'Book of the Dun Cow' as a high school freshman in 1982 I have found myself rereading it every two to three years. Chauntacleer, John Wesley Weasel, and the other characters are the center of an unforgettable, emotional, adventure that provides good vs.evil,heroism,unconditional love, and extreme courage.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 7, 2003

    A definite Masterpiece

    This book is a great buy for people of all ages. This book is very imaginative and has a great story-line. It's one of the best good verse evil books out there. I've read it three times and wouldn't mind reading it again. Though I havn't read the book of sorrows I'm sure it's just as good or even better than the first.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 6, 2000

    Epic, mythic, brilliant!

    This is one of the best-written books I have ever had the pleasure to read. It contains heroism, joy, deep sorrow, and extraordinary good humor. It is one of the three or four books that I will actively tell people that they have to read. It is truly a marvellous work, and one that continues to grow on the reader. BTW...there is a sequel, The Book of Sorrows... It is also very good, but RARELY has a book been so well titled. If I had a ten-year-old child, I would happily read him The Book of the Dun Cow, but would not let him know that there was a sequel until he turned, oh, 30 or so.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 24, 2007

    Good vs. Evil

    Classic! Heros and monsters. Good vs. evil. Fully recommend! Char build was amazing. Tragic ending. Gripping from start to finish. You won't be disappointed. Don't forget book 2. Book Of Sorrows. Holds true to its title!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 25, 2007

    Philosophical, Theological, and Haunting

    This is beautiful, unique, and disquieting book, filled with allegory and symbolism. On the face level, it is about a rooster who finds his chicken coop endangered by the dreaded Cockatrice, a half serpent, half rooster. On a deeper level, it contains many religious allegories that are discernable to the experienced reader. This is not really a book for children, though it can be found in children's literature shelves, due to it's high style of writing. The openminded adult will enjoy it a great deal.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 19, 2011

    Moving

    This book is deeply moving. Definitely one of the greatest books out there. Walter is a great writer. With his words he makes you laugh, think, and touch your spirit. You'll finish this book with a smile on your face and you'll want to read it all over again.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 14, 2006

    I personally loved it

    I believe that The Book of the Dun Cow was very well written. I immediately became attatched to most of the characters, and learned to loath the dreaded Cocatrice. It told of the story tale battle of good against evil, and it is told in the most uncharacteristic way - with farm animals. I personally believe that it is not a book for children, seeing as one would need an adult's intelligence to appreciate it.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 24, 2006

    Terrible

    This is one terrible book. We read it in 8th grade and it is one of the few books that I truly hated. Basically it is about two farms. In one, a snake/chicken thing named Cockatrice is born and then, after lots of useless parts, he wages war on the nice happy farm. Please, save yourself and do not read it.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 24, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

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