I loved this book and believe it will stay with me a long time.ostensibly a story of a woman and a fox, but also a story of people in general, how they interact with each other and nature. The regular snippets of Moby Dick , the little prince and even Frankenstein added another layer to the experience. ( )

NF: An excellent account of a biologist who befriends a fox. Read review for best account: ?Those of us who have barnacled ourselves to inhospitable places may be trying to avoid people not because we do not like people, but because we love the things that people destroyed. Wild things. Horizons. Trolls.?Fox and I is a memoir by American teacher and writer, Catherine Raven. After an unsupportive upbringing, the author manages to attain a PhD in Biology, lives in an off-grid mountain cottage in Montana and teaches remotely.She might be considered reclusive: ?Just as I?ve always been alone, I?ve never felt lonely. But I did want to fit in somewhere and belong to something. I tried lashing myself to the land, but it wasn?t reciprocating. Land, I discovered, does not behave like a pet, offering unconditional love just because you own it. I thought I was buying space and rocks and dirt and a creek, and instead I ended up with a community of animals who wanted me to work for my welcome.?The fox who visits daily, and eventually becomes her friend, appears in some of her slides for her students on their Yellowstone Park field trips, and immediately provokes questions. Raven recalls associates during her ranger work warning her not to anthropomorphise. She feels curious and wonders ?Was I imagining Fox?s personality??She decides to map the relationship, to be able to explain it, should there be further questions. She goes back to before their paths first crossed, and tells of ?The Great Vole Debacle?, which becomes an illustration of how small actions (clearing land and building a house, feeding egg yolks to magpies, collecting seeds, chasing off dogs and feral cats) can ultimately have unpredictable consequences.?Owning land is a big responsibility. Every step taken, path set, weed pulled, and tree planted fosters a hundred million or so consequences. A great land baron, Nature?s tenant in chief, must justify her actions and their consequences.?Raven meanders through the story of her initial encounters with Fox, often with lengthy digressions to illustrate a point, describing how she would sit and read to him, games they played and activities they pursued. She recounts those occasions when she returned from time away to no Fox, convinced that he had met with an unexpected end.Occasionally, Raven swaps the narrative to Fox?s perspective, giving him a personality without the ?sin? of anthropomorphising. Tennis Ball, the magpie, also gets a voice.Raven credits the friendship with allowing her to understand what truly matters in her life: ?Like a forest, my life had progressed through several stages and was reaching the climax phase. I knew my relationship with Fox was more important than anything else in my life, and I could see that my purpose would be to tell his story. And purpose, I now knew, was more important than profession.?Rven?s memoir is a feast of wildlife and botanical description that will appeal especially to those who love or appreciate American flora and fauna. This is a moving, thought-provoking and illuminating read.This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by NetGalley and Spiegel & Grau.

I can relate to Catherine Raven in many ways. I understand what it’s like to feel inept at social relationships and appreciate nature’s beauty. But our similarities end there. She’s brave, independent, and open in ways I can’t imagine. Adjusting to her writing style may take a while, but it’s worth it.

In Fox and I, Raven recounts how, after acquiring a Ph.D. in biology and buying a small plot of land far from the nearest town, she set up a private wilderness camp in a small cottage she had built there. Her life up to that point is impressive enough to me. After a neglected childhood, she left home at 15 and never returned after age 16. Instead, she headed west and began working odd jobs, winding up as a backcountry ranger in several national parks.

Her life, though busy and challenging, was also lonely. But while she was living on her plot of land, attempting to manage it responsibly that honored the other creatures living there, she began to receive visits from a scrawny, local fox. After they became comfortable in one another’s company, she began reading to him, providing him with homemade remedies for mange, taking walks, and playing games together.

While this may sound like something out of a fairytale, it wasn’t. Raven worried about her wild friend’s health and suffered when she was away from him for too long. She also regretted hurting his feelings on occasion. And she worried about how her relationship with a wild creature would be perceived by her students and peers in the scientific community.

I became immersed in her world as she weaved the verbal cocoon around her story. It wasn’t a cozy world, and Raven sugarcoats none of it. She tells you initially that she knew the relationship would be brief. But, in the end, you join her in awe at the natural world. You see life and death for what they are, tiny fragments of an incredible whole. And you find yourself questioning what matters in the end. It was a beautiful book I would recommend to anyone who loves animals and nature. ( )

I enjoyed this nature and self-examination memoir. The author is an unusual character and has interesting things to say. Parts were a bit perplexing, she assigns various nicknames to various creatures and plants and to herself, and sometimes I got mixed up. (Great names though, in many cases). Nice combination of observations from the perspectives of someone who is both a PhD biologist and a cranky naturalist (and along with that, a complex person with a difficult backstory). ( )

A scientist forms a relationship with a wild red fox who visits her at the same time everyday on her homestead in Montana. Reflections ensue. My final opinion: an interesting, foxy fairytale for grownups that ultimately reads like one big apologetic.

I was super drawn to this book for a lot of reasons: 1) I read Pilgrim At Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard in college (and loved it); 2) I've thought about having children just so I can read them The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery; and 3) one of my favorite childhood books that I cannot remember the title of for the life of me involves a young girl meeting a wild, male fox named "Vicky" (I feel like a failure of a librarian for not being able to figure this out!!).

There's also of course the eternal allure of wild animals, and the enduring, childlike sense of adventure that goes along with being accepted by them. I think this idea plays at the edges of a lot of people's imaginations, maybe something that we grow out of as we get older. This draw, along with Raven's prose, her imaginative sequences that are narrated from Fox's point of view, and the question of humanity's relationship and connection to animals, are the most interesting parts of the book, to me. I would have been delighted to read a story that was entirely made up of these elements.

I was fully prepared to let the ambient noise of this detailed, naturalistic narrative wash over me and just get lost in the world. The sticking place that prevented that was the fact that this book seems to be a defense against Raven's straw man in the science world (I mean, maybe it exists, but we don't see any evidence of it outside of Raven's mind) that says that animals and humans can't be friends, or that the relationship between animals and humans shouldn't be "unnatural". Raven reacts so strongly to her perceptions of how others are perceiving her that it's hard to relax into the relationship that she's portraying. She also makes a lot of very disturbing comments off-hand, primarily about her childhood; I've found this is normal for memoirists who either a) aren't very experienced at it or b) might still major work to do in therapy, but I found myself to be much more curious about the things she was obscurely alluding to than about how much she relates to Ishmael in Moby Dick.

There is a lot of moralizing throughout this book that doesn't make great sense, and I'm not going to go into any counter-arguments, because I don't think that's really the issue that I take with it, ultimately. (OK, OK, I will say one thing: she talks about how the magpie doesn't engage in self-improvement, unlike her, primarily because the magpie will not live long enough for that to be evolutionarily viable. To this I say: she has obviously never met a parrot; they are completely depraved and live as long as humans. Is she being figurative? I could never figure it out.) My biggest problem–OK, so I'm writing this after reading Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay, which includes an essay about how people feel the need to diagnose unlikeable women narrators, which is exactly what I was about to do here. SO, I'm refraining. What I think my ultimate problem with the book was NOT the fact that Raven is an unlikeable narrator, but that she makes her unlikability a primary focus of the narrative. To me, the issue was not that Raven preferred the company of animals to humans, but that she felt the need to justify it.

I saw an interview with Raven (again, I know I'm not supposed to do this...) in which she said that she didn't so much come away from her relationship with Fox thinking that anthropomorphism wasn't wrong, but that she doesn't think that we even know which characteristics are uniquely human well enough to do it in the first place. I think that's an interesting point and wish the book had explored that more explicitly. The strongest moments are when she points out humanity's own inconsistencies in regards to how we treat the natural world, but this book ultimately reads as a defense thesis of her own emotions towards a single creature. ( )