From Publishers Weekly
Wharton ( Birdy ) again relies on a characteristic mix of fantasy and psychological realism in this fable for adults. During WW II, a dying American soldier, William Wiley, and his German captor, Wilhelm Klug, are miraculously rescued by a fox endowed with extraordinary powers, Franky Furbo. For William, the experience is indisputably true; when he discovers later that neither his wife nor children believe in Franky, he endures a crisis of faith and searches desperately for verification. The intricate fantasy is given depth by first-person narration and the utter credibility of William's dilemma. And the book's mystical ending gives Wharton an opportunity to explore new facets of favorite themes: our relationship to nature, the need for peace and tolerance, and the indestructible bonds of love. His vision skirts didacticism and sentimentality, instructing by inspiring. Author tour.
Copyright 1989 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Review
A painter named William Wiley lives with his free-spirited American family in rural Italy, making a living by writing children's books - and for years enchanting his family with the tales of Franky Furbo, an archetypal, wise old fox that Wiley claims to have spoken to during the War - and that he claims in fact to have been rescued by in body and mind. Wiley, it turns out, really believes he's had this strange encounter, despite the scoffings of psychiatrists and (much more gently) even of his own wife. It is Wharton's turn here that one waits for, the reality inversion that marks all his books (Birdy, Dad, and the much lesser works that have followed), and here it is more radical than ever. Yes, Franky Furbo exists, and his identity finally is so triumphant that you are flooded, as if by a tepid New Age shower, with a Saturday Evening Post-ish tag as well: that only uninhibited family love will save and redeem us. For the reader, diabetic coma is a possibility (be cautious) after this saccharine fantasia, which is without a sense of humor or an added dimension. Wharton's decline as an imaginative writer seems to throw him only toward wilder speculations, sillier scenarios. It's an unhappy thing to see. (Kirkus Reviews)