A review of Foxes unearthed by Lucy Jones
If you are looking for the answer to Ylvis’ question, then this book is definitely not the place to look – since it is a book entirely devoid of anthropomorphism. Instead you will find a potent combination of journalistic investigation, historical and literary research, and heartfelt nature writing. Don’t be fooled by the gorgeous cover which would not look out of place in the kind of ‘contemporary living’ shop where you buy a book for the way it looks on your coffee table. Lucy Jones’ book packs a serious and intelligent punch. Her meticulous research takes her back into Indo-European literature and contemporary linguistic analysis, and her journalist’s nose takes her out into the countryside with hunters and saboteurs alike. You have to respect any researcher prepared to get covered in mud head to foot for her craft!
For me, one of the most fascinating chapters of the book is the one dealing with portrayals of the fox in print media. As I read the chapter, I was reminded of Dwight Bolinger’s book Language: the loaded weapon. Like Bolinger, Lucy Jones made me think about both the language I consume and the language I create. Below I cheekily steal some of those ‘loaded’ fox words to describe Lucy’s book:
- Cunning – like the legendary cunning of the fox, Lucy draws her readers in. Don’t be fooled into thinking you know what this book is before you finish it.
- Courageous – fox hunters (apparently) like to talk about the courage of their foe. Lucy Jones is a writer prepared to show considerable courage in pursuing her investigation.
- Sleek – like a well fed fox with a gorgeous red coat, there are passages in this book polished to an almost poetic sheen.
- Shy – in the best way possible, this book tells you more about its subject than its author.
Last week, I took this book away on holiday with me. I started reading it early one morning, and then slipped out of the cottage where I was staying on a farm in Wiltshire. As I made my way up the farm track, mist rolling away from the fields, my head was still full of the ancient fox legends about which I had been reading. Just then, an elegant fox made its unhurried way across the path in front of me. Its coat was a deep mahogany colour, with a pristine white tip to its brush. I felt, as I always do, a sense of wonder at proximity with such a beautiful wild creature. This time, though, I also felt I knew something more about it. The two of us went our separate ways that early morning – one to hunt and the other to ponder on what a Finnish fox has to say about the Northern Lights. That’s another story though…
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