The completed manuscript of his second book, called It Shouldn’t Happen to a Vet, was in the hands of Anthea Joseph in February 1971. The contract – for which he received an advance of £300 – was signed on 22 March 1971, and the book was published in January 1972. Once again, to the delight of my father and his bank manager, the London Evening Standardserialised the book prior to publication. This book received far more publicity than the first, and was reviewed in various papers and magazines.
One review in the Sunday Expressof 23 January 1972, by the then literary editor, Graham Lord, meant a great deal to Alf. Lord’s glowing appraisal of the book did wonders for Alf’s morale who was convinced that this one review, in a widely-read paper, gave him one of the biggest breaks of his literary career. My father, ever the appreciative man, contacted Graham Lord to express his thanks and was to remain grateful to him to the end of his days.
John Junor, the editor of the Sunday Express, liked the book so much that his paper, from 1974 through to the 1980s, was to serialise all the James Herriot books prior to their publication, bringing them to the attention of millions of readers and giving the sales a tremendous boost. John Junor, who was brought up very close to Alf’s Yoker area of Glasgow, was a man with whom Alf corresponded for years, always maintaining that the Sunday Expresseditor was a very influential figure in helping him along the path to success.
Another factor that aided the increased sales of the second book was the adoption of a very different dust-jacket. The jacket of If Only They Could Talk –showing a young carthorse rearing up while being held by a young boy – had bestowed the aura of a children’s novel on it, and was probably the reason for the book being put into the children’s department in the bookshops. Michael Joseph, realising their mistake, commissioned a jacket illustration from the popular artist ‘Larry’ and also asked him to produce a cartoon for each chapter opening, which emphasised the book’s humorous content. Not only did ‘Larry’ go on to illustrate the next four James Herriot books, but he also produced a new dust-jacket cartoon for If Only They Could Talkwhich appeared on the second and subsequent reprints of Alf’s first book.
Eight thousand copies of the second book were printed, a very big increase over the first book, showing Michael Joseph’s confidence in their author from Yorkshire. James Herriot was not yet a household name but his books were selling well; he was on his way.
It Shouldn’t Happen to a Vetis a very similar book to the first one, with the mixture much as before – plenty of humour, a genuine insight into a fast-disappearing way of life and some dashes of pathos thrown in, too. Like its predecessor, it has the ability to move the reader to tears of both joy and sadness. Alf quickly saw the potential for a third, maybe even a fourth book, and decided to introduce another character who could run through the subsequent titles. He brought in a little love interest, and Helen Alderson, who was based upon Joan, enters James Herriot’s life for the first time.
The book opens with a chapter on Mr Handshaw. James Herriot visits a recumbent cow that he considers, after treating her for several days, will never walk again. He advises humane slaughter. The farmer does not take his advice, but keeps her for several weeks, after which the cow suddenly jumps to her feet. This was a great triumph for Mr Handshaw who had ‘put one over’ on the professional man.
The real Mr Handshaw, a man by the name of Billy Goodyear, is still alive and, only recently, one of the practice’s young assistants paid a visit to his farm.
‘He’s an interesting old fellow!’ the assistant said to me on his return. ‘He told me a story about your father.’
‘Oh yes?’ I replied. I could guess what was coming.
‘He said that your dad treated a cow years ago and said “it would never get up n’ more”. He kept it alive, against your dad’s advice, and it got up!’
Billy Goodyear never let my father forget about the cow that would ‘never get up n’more’ and I sometimes wonder what Alf Wight would have thought, had he known that the farmer would still be basking in that moment of glory, years after his death.
It Shouldn’t Happen to a Vetillustrates another aspect of James Herriot’s writing – that of his altering the characters by changing their sex, or making one composite personality out of several others.
In chapter 7 of the book, a character called Mr Worley appears. He is a man who is completely devoted to pigs. His whole life revolves round them, and there is nothing he likes better than sitting by the fire, ‘talking pigs’.
The ‘real’ Mr Worley was based upon a lady called Mrs Bush who ran a country inn at Byland Abbey near Thirsk. She kept Saddleback pigs in the yard behind the inn and she loved every one of them. She liked my father as she was convinced that he, too, loved her pigs. I am not quite so sure about that. Not only were Mrs Bush’s black and white sows pretty formidable creatures, especially at farrowing time, but she had the awkward habit of calling us out in the early hours of the morning to attend to them. In her eyes, however, he was a real ‘pig vet’.
One evening, Alf had an unnerving experience while having a quiet drink at the inn. Mrs Bush approached him and said, ‘Ooh, Mr Wight, I did enjoy reading your book. And I liked the chapter about that man and his pigs!’
A thin film of sweat appeared on Alf’s brow. Surely she had not recognised herself? ‘I’m glad you liked it, Mrs Bush,’ he replied.
‘I know exactly how he felt!’ she continued.
‘Do you really?’
‘Aye. D’you know, Mr Wight … it could’ve been me!’
The second book ends with a wonderful story – one whose origins I remember very well – that illustrates, perfectly, the unique character of Donald Sinclair. Siegfried, while escorting some upper-class, influential people to the races, meets an old friend and becomes inebriated after which, following the loss of his car keys, he has to borrow his friend’s filthy old vehicle to transport his outraged guests away from the racecourse. The final touch of farce is provided, as usual, by Siegfried who is watched in disbelief by the unsmiling occupants as he attempts to clean the car window with a dead hen!
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In the following five years up to 1977, Alf produced four more books, an impressive feat for a man working full time as a veterinary surgeon. As in those long years when he was writing the short stories and novels, he worked in the living-room, right in front of the television. By now he found it no hardship to settle down at the end of a working day, with the stories flowing effortlessly from his typewriter. Having watched him put in a full day’s work in the practice, I used to stare in amazement at the contented figure tapping away. He had one great advantage; he genuinely loved writing, unfailingly regarding it as a hobby rather than a profession.
From 1973 onwards, everything that he published received enthusiastic reviews before climbing rapidly to the top of the best-seller lists. His third book, Let Sleeping Vets Lie, a title suggested by Joan, was published in April 1973. This book, like the previous two, was serialised by the Evening Standard, and it hit the ground running – immediately becoming a best-seller. Michael Joseph printed 15,000 copies which disappeared off the bookshelves with lightning speed. The reader is introduced to more characters, including Ewan Ross, the neighbouring vet for whom James Herriot T.B. tested endless cows, and Carmody, the student. There are endless tales of the Yorkshire farmers with their funny ways, and the gentle love story between James and Helen winds through the book, finally resulting in their marriage and honeymoon in the Yorkshire Dales.