The Snow Goose.

GALLICO, Paul.

$850.00

Item Number: 110454

New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1941.

First edition of this classic story, the moving wartime story of friendship and heroism, set against the dramatic backdrop of the World War II Battle of Dunkirk. Octavo, original cloth. Presentation copy, inscribed by the author a month prior to publication on the front free endpaper, “To Stuart Rose- Who has great patience with me- with my love- Paul Gallico March, 1941.” Near fine in a near fine price-clipped dust jacket. Cover art by George Salter.

The Snow Goose is a simple, short written parable on the regenerative power of friendship and love, set against a backdrop of the horror of war. It documents the growth of a friendship between Philip Rhayader, an artist living a solitary life in an abandoned lighthouse in the marshlands of Essex because of his disabilities, and a young local girl, Fritha. The snow goose, symbolic of both Rhayader (Gallico) and the world itself, wounded by gunshot and many miles from home, is found by Fritha and, as the human friendship blossoms, the bird is nursed back to flight, and revisits the lighthouse in its migration for several years. As Fritha grows up, Rhayader and his small sailboat eventually are lost in the Dunkirk evacuation, having saved several hundred men. The bird, which was with Rhayader, returns briefly to the grown Fritha on the marshes. She interprets this as Rhayader's soul taking farewell of her (and realizes she had come to love him). Afterwards, a German pilot destroys Rhayader's lighthouse and all of his work, except for one portrait Fritha saves after his death: a painting of her as Rhayader first saw her—a child, with the wounded snow goose in her arms. The Snow Goose was one of the O. Henry Prize Winners in 1941. Critic Robert van Gelder called it "perhaps the most sentimental story that ever has achieved the dignity of a Borzoi [prestige imprint of publisher Knopf] imprint. It is a timeless legend that makes use of every timeless appeal that could be crowded into it." A public library put it on a list of "tearjerkers". Gallico made no apologies, saying that in the contest between sentiment and 'slime', "sentiment remains so far out in front, as it always has and always will among ordinary humans that the calamity-howlers and porn merchants have to increase the decibels of their lamentations, the hideousness of their violence and the mountainous piles of their filth to keep in the race at all."