Of Wolves and Men

"Of Wolves and Men is one of the best non-fiction books I've ever read. It redefined what non-fiction nature writing could be."

"I should be clear that this book, in its totality, is not one of my favourite books. In fact, I found myself starting to glaze over parts in the second half. The reason I’ve gone for it is solely down to its first two chapters, the second of which is the most astounding piece of writing I’ve read on communication between species, in particular between apex predators and their prey. It changes everything we ever thought we knew about their relationship to each other, and to death. In doing so, it offers fascinating insights into the depths of understanding which civilised peoples have lost and what, if we were wise, we might attempt to regain. As the title suggests, this book is not just about wolves, but the lessons their ways can teach us button-pressing bipeds. From the outset Lopez clearly sets out to dispel the myth of the wolf we think we know—the wolf that man created, the incomplete creature that does no justice to its complexity and mystery. Not only do we know so little about them, but most of what we do know comes from observing them in captivity, which is about as smart a way of understanding the true nature of the wolf as it is to discern the true nature of humans. “To learn how to die well, one needs to learn how to live well first” His description of a wolf moving through the woods, based on his own observations and the accounts of those who spent many years tracking them in the field, is spellbinding. It’s a depiction of an animal few people would recognise—the wolf that plays stick with herself, or the pack that stands ‘staring at the way water in a creek breaks around their legs and flows on’—and begins the process of helping us imagine the real, more complete wolf. In doing so Lopez shows that there is no one wolf, that each has as much personality and individuality as any human. That ought to be common sense, but most of us still think of the wolf (or any other animal) as a sort of static, generic beast. Lopez is quick to remind us, however, that even the picture he paints is only that—a picture, and not the creature itself. But then the real gift arrives. It’s what Lopez calls ‘the conversation of death’, that moment where the eyes of predator and prey meet and a ‘ceremonial ritual’ begins, in which ‘both animals, not the predator alone, choose for the encounter to end in death’. Lopez gives many examples to back this up, and it absolutely demands to be read. Support Five Books Five Books interviews are expensive to produce. If you're enjoying this interview, please support us by donating a small amount . He goes on to explain how this conversation of death goes silent when wild predators meet with domestic livestock. He argues that when a wolf ‘wanders into a flock of sheep and kills 20 or 30 of them in apparent compulsion’, it is not so much ‘slaughter as a failure on the part of the sheep to communicate anything at all—resistance, mutual respect, appropriateness—to the wolf’. He adds that ‘The wolf . . . initiated a sacred ritual and met with ignorance.’ The whole thing is hard for us to get our over-civilised minds around, but various anthropological accounts suggest it’s something our ancestors understood innately. After those opening chapters my interest started to wane. But those two chapters are as vital as any if you want to understand the ways in which animals, and humans, relate—or in our case, could relate—to the life surrounding us. It also reminded me how our relationship with death deeply affects how we live, and that not only is there ‘nothing wrong with dying, one should only strive to die well’. But to learn how to die well, one needs to learn how to live well first."