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Gabe: A Story of Me, My Dog, and the 1970s
Coming of age in the Age of Aquarius.
Author Shelley Gill was seventeen-years-old in 1972 and a free spirit protesting the Vietnam War, marching for civil rights, and finding her way in a changing world. While volunteering in the medical tent at the first Rainbow Gathering in Granby, Colorado, Shelley met Gabe—a blue merle husky mix puppy abandoned by his owner. Gabe quickly became Shelley’s best friend and protector. They travelled the country together, hitchhiking to New Orleans, to Indiana, to New York City, to the Rocky Mountains, and eventually to Alaska, where they stayed.
Shelley Gill has lived full-force, grabbing life by the horns and not letting go. Her spirit and attitude are ever-present in this autobiography, which is a snapshot of a turbulent time in American history, as well as a love-letter to cherished dog.
Author Shelley Gill was seventeen-years-old in 1972 and a free spirit protesting the Vietnam War, marching for civil rights, and finding her way in a changing world. While volunteering in the medical tent at the first Rainbow Gathering in Granby, Colorado, Shelley met Gabe—a blue merle husky mix puppy abandoned by his owner. Gabe quickly became Shelley’s best friend and protector. They travelled the country together, hitchhiking to New Orleans, to Indiana, to New York City, to the Rocky Mountains, and eventually to Alaska, where they stayed.
Shelley Gill has lived full-force, grabbing life by the horns and not letting go. Her spirit and attitude are ever-present in this autobiography, which is a snapshot of a turbulent time in American history, as well as a love-letter to cherished dog.
64 pages, Hardcover
First published February 2, 2016
21 people want to read
About the author
Shelley Gill
36 books7 followersAlaskan author Shelley Gill lives in Homer, Alaska at the end of the road in North America. Her books reflect her life: racing in the Iditarod Sled Dog Race, doing humpback research in Prince William Sound and working as a naturalist in various habitats: Alaska, Antarctica and Hawaii. Her current project, Whale Detective, follows her own research into the community life of humpbacks in Alaska. Her APP What's Up With Whales is in the App Store and looks at the new science about whales around the world. And in February her first board book: If I Were A Whale will be released by Sasquatch Books. She has visited 4800 schools around the world inspiring students to be avid readers and great writers. Her autobiography, Gabe-a girl, her dog and the 1970's, was released in the fall 2016.
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
June 10, 2016
The older I get the more I like children’s books that don’t slot easily into neat little categories. Gone are the days when every book you read was easily cataloged, neat as a pin. It may be a nightmarish wasteland out there for catalogers, but the fluidity of books these days speaks to their abilities to serve different kinds of readers in different kinds of areas. Even biography sections of libraries and bookstores are morphing. I remember when Siena Siegel’s To Dance was published and we, the children’s librarians, had to come to terms with the fact that we had an honest-to-goodness children’s graphic novel autobiography on our hands (a rare beastie indeed). I’ve not really seen a book to shake up the biography sections in a similar way since. That is, until now. Gabe: A Story of Me, My Dog, and the 1970s is a textbook case of not being a textbook case. Autobiographical and deeply visual, it offers a slice of 1970s life never approached in this manner in a children’s book before. Different kinds of readers require different kinds of books to feed their little brains. This is a book for dog and pet readers, throwing them into the past headfirst and keeping them there thanks to some truly beautiful art. An original.
Growing up in Florida, Shelley Gill had enough of the vapid, polluted culture she’d grown up with. At seventeen she was out. The year was 1972 and Shelley was volunteering in the medical tent of the first Rainbow Gathering at Table Mountain. When she wasn’t patching up people she was patching up pets. And there was one pet in particular, a blue merle husky mix she named Gabe. When the party was over, Gabe was left and so Shelley kept him by her side. Together they hitchhiked, lived in New Orleans for a time, tried Colorado, suffered through NYC, were parted, reunited, and ultimately found their final home in Alaska. Gill chronicles her life through the dog that helped make that life possible. Backmatter consists of five great historical moments alluded to in the book.
When I was growing up, the 1970s was just that decade we never quite got to in history class because we ran out of time by the end of the school year (thanks, WWII). A child of the 1980s myself, it would take me years and years and a significant chunk of my adult life to get a grasp on that time period. Children’s books that talk about the 70s or are set in the 70s aren’t exactly plentiful. Either they’re entirely about the Vietnam War or the Civil Rights movement or. . . . yeah. No. That’s about it. So Shelley Gill’s decision to place her own story inextricably within the times in which she lived is fascinating. She starts off not with Woodstock (as you might expect) but the far lesser known Rainbow Gathering of 1972. Backmatter relays information about The Vietnam War, the protests, the Civil Rights Movement, the Women’s Movement, and The Age of Aquarius. None of it is enough to serve as a focus for the story, but they do at least offer context and groundwork for kids willing to seek out additional information on their own on any of the mentioned topics.
It’s a surprisingly slight book for the chunk of Gill’s life that it contains. That may have more to do with the author’s square focus on the dog more than anything else. Gabe is first and foremost the center of the book. Gill’s marriage, and even her eventual commitment to dog sledding, pale in the face of this owner/pet love story. In 2011 Adam Gopnik wrote a piece for The New Yorker called “Dog Story” in which he talked about pet owners’ blind adoration of their own dogs. It’s a fun piece because, amongst other things, it really clarified for me the fact that I am just not a dog person. If you have a friendly dog I’ll pet it like crazy and enjoy its company, but other people’s dogs are like other people’s children. You appreciate their existence on this globe (hopefully) but wouldn’t necessarily want one of your own. The interesting thing about Gabe is that Gill makes no bones about his bad qualities. She loves him, psychopathic tendencies and all. He is her constant companion through thick and thin and (craziest of all) the 1970s. I don’t feel particularly gushy towards dogs, but a good writer allows you to feel emotions that aren’t your own. And in that last page, where Shelley cuddles her dying dog? That, I felt.
The text is great, no question, but would be merely okay with a lesser illustrator. So a lot of the heavy lifting going on in this title is due the talents of Marc Scheff. I would love to hear the story of how Marc came to this particular book. A quick look at his various websites and you can see that he describes himself as the kind of artist who creates, “portraits that blend the fantastic and the surreal.” In Gabe Scheff scales back his more sumptuous tendencies, but not by much. He’s sticking to reality for the most part, but there’s one moment, when people are exchanging rumors of an escaped devil dog terrorizing the citizens of New Orleans, where he allows the paper he paints to gorge itself in a blood red beast awash in snarls and drool. Shelley herself is the kind of woman Scheff typically likes to paint. A 20th century Rossetti model, all flowing hair and latent hippie tendencies. Farrah Fawcet would have been envious. And Gabe is consistently fascinating to watch throughout. Scheff’s challenge was to make him tame enough that a girl would do anything to keep him by her side, but also wild enough to attack at a moment’s notice. For the book to work you have to like Gabe on some level. That may be the most difficult challenge of the book, but Scheff is up to the task and the end result is a dog that, at the very least, you respect on some level.
For all that I love the art of the book, there is one element of the design I’d change in a heartbeat, if I had that power. That would be (and this is going to sound crazy to you if you haven’t seen the book yet) the size of the font on each new chapter’s first page. Somebody somewhere made the executive decision to shrink that font down to teeny, tiny, itty-bitty, oh-so-miniscule words. In some chapters this is clearly done to fit a large amount of text into a particular part of the accompanying illustrations. The trouble is that it just looks awful. Right from the bat it sets the wrong tone for everything. It was with great relief that I turned the first page to discover a far larger, lovelier font for most of the rest of the book. Yet with every new chapter there it would be again. That small, horrid little font. A weird complaint, you bet, but for a book that relies so heavily on attractive visuals, this seems an unfortunate misstep.
The more graphic and visual a children’s book, the more opportunities to really put the reader in a historical time and place. For the 9-year-old that picks up and reads this book, the 1970s might as well be the 1670s. Yet together Gill and Scheff transport their young readers. From the sweltering heat of New Orleans to the dry chill under an Aurora Borealis, you are there. Gill writes what she knows and what she knows is the story of her best dog. A moving, eye-popping, ambitious, genre-busting little number. I guarantee you this - you’ll find nothing else like it on your bookshelves today.
For ages 9 and up.
Growing up in Florida, Shelley Gill had enough of the vapid, polluted culture she’d grown up with. At seventeen she was out. The year was 1972 and Shelley was volunteering in the medical tent of the first Rainbow Gathering at Table Mountain. When she wasn’t patching up people she was patching up pets. And there was one pet in particular, a blue merle husky mix she named Gabe. When the party was over, Gabe was left and so Shelley kept him by her side. Together they hitchhiked, lived in New Orleans for a time, tried Colorado, suffered through NYC, were parted, reunited, and ultimately found their final home in Alaska. Gill chronicles her life through the dog that helped make that life possible. Backmatter consists of five great historical moments alluded to in the book.
When I was growing up, the 1970s was just that decade we never quite got to in history class because we ran out of time by the end of the school year (thanks, WWII). A child of the 1980s myself, it would take me years and years and a significant chunk of my adult life to get a grasp on that time period. Children’s books that talk about the 70s or are set in the 70s aren’t exactly plentiful. Either they’re entirely about the Vietnam War or the Civil Rights movement or. . . . yeah. No. That’s about it. So Shelley Gill’s decision to place her own story inextricably within the times in which she lived is fascinating. She starts off not with Woodstock (as you might expect) but the far lesser known Rainbow Gathering of 1972. Backmatter relays information about The Vietnam War, the protests, the Civil Rights Movement, the Women’s Movement, and The Age of Aquarius. None of it is enough to serve as a focus for the story, but they do at least offer context and groundwork for kids willing to seek out additional information on their own on any of the mentioned topics.
It’s a surprisingly slight book for the chunk of Gill’s life that it contains. That may have more to do with the author’s square focus on the dog more than anything else. Gabe is first and foremost the center of the book. Gill’s marriage, and even her eventual commitment to dog sledding, pale in the face of this owner/pet love story. In 2011 Adam Gopnik wrote a piece for The New Yorker called “Dog Story” in which he talked about pet owners’ blind adoration of their own dogs. It’s a fun piece because, amongst other things, it really clarified for me the fact that I am just not a dog person. If you have a friendly dog I’ll pet it like crazy and enjoy its company, but other people’s dogs are like other people’s children. You appreciate their existence on this globe (hopefully) but wouldn’t necessarily want one of your own. The interesting thing about Gabe is that Gill makes no bones about his bad qualities. She loves him, psychopathic tendencies and all. He is her constant companion through thick and thin and (craziest of all) the 1970s. I don’t feel particularly gushy towards dogs, but a good writer allows you to feel emotions that aren’t your own. And in that last page, where Shelley cuddles her dying dog? That, I felt.
The text is great, no question, but would be merely okay with a lesser illustrator. So a lot of the heavy lifting going on in this title is due the talents of Marc Scheff. I would love to hear the story of how Marc came to this particular book. A quick look at his various websites and you can see that he describes himself as the kind of artist who creates, “portraits that blend the fantastic and the surreal.” In Gabe Scheff scales back his more sumptuous tendencies, but not by much. He’s sticking to reality for the most part, but there’s one moment, when people are exchanging rumors of an escaped devil dog terrorizing the citizens of New Orleans, where he allows the paper he paints to gorge itself in a blood red beast awash in snarls and drool. Shelley herself is the kind of woman Scheff typically likes to paint. A 20th century Rossetti model, all flowing hair and latent hippie tendencies. Farrah Fawcet would have been envious. And Gabe is consistently fascinating to watch throughout. Scheff’s challenge was to make him tame enough that a girl would do anything to keep him by her side, but also wild enough to attack at a moment’s notice. For the book to work you have to like Gabe on some level. That may be the most difficult challenge of the book, but Scheff is up to the task and the end result is a dog that, at the very least, you respect on some level.
For all that I love the art of the book, there is one element of the design I’d change in a heartbeat, if I had that power. That would be (and this is going to sound crazy to you if you haven’t seen the book yet) the size of the font on each new chapter’s first page. Somebody somewhere made the executive decision to shrink that font down to teeny, tiny, itty-bitty, oh-so-miniscule words. In some chapters this is clearly done to fit a large amount of text into a particular part of the accompanying illustrations. The trouble is that it just looks awful. Right from the bat it sets the wrong tone for everything. It was with great relief that I turned the first page to discover a far larger, lovelier font for most of the rest of the book. Yet with every new chapter there it would be again. That small, horrid little font. A weird complaint, you bet, but for a book that relies so heavily on attractive visuals, this seems an unfortunate misstep.
The more graphic and visual a children’s book, the more opportunities to really put the reader in a historical time and place. For the 9-year-old that picks up and reads this book, the 1970s might as well be the 1670s. Yet together Gill and Scheff transport their young readers. From the sweltering heat of New Orleans to the dry chill under an Aurora Borealis, you are there. Gill writes what she knows and what she knows is the story of her best dog. A moving, eye-popping, ambitious, genre-busting little number. I guarantee you this - you’ll find nothing else like it on your bookshelves today.
For ages 9 and up.
June 28, 2021
This is a really interesting graphic novel/picture book, wherein the author relates her experiences as a young woman in the 1970's while hitchhiking across the country, landing odd jobs and staying on friends' couches or in tents at hippie gatherings, always roaming. She adopts a dog, Gabe, who was left behind at the "Rainbow Gathering," and he becomes her best friend and protector--she never accepts rides when hitchhiking unless Gabe approves of the driver, for example. She works as a medic, tends bar, protests the Vietnam War, does all sorts of things, and ends up in Alaska where she realizes she and Gabe have found their home at last. And she loves Gabe with all her heart, he's by her side for a long time. (Yes, there's a tearful moment in the book, darn it.) When I learned that she was the fifth woman to complete the Iditarod dogsled race, and was friends with Susan Butcher (the second woman to win the Iditarod), I had hopes that this book would delve more into dogsled racing, but that's apparently enough of a story for a later book. I thought the writing here was a little sparse, kind of dry, but overall it's an interesting story. She includes some definitions at the back for younger readers who might not have heard of the various social movements of the sixties and seventies that she mentions in the story (like the Age of Aquarius, Civil Rights Act, etc.). I liked the art--it's very colorful, flowery and flowy, definitely screams "seventies!" to me.
November 11, 2017
This book is super interesting - the topic is fascinating. It's the true story of Shelley Gill, a flower child/hitchhiker/modern explorer and her dog, Gabe. Her life is fascinating and her relationship with Gabe true blue. The illustrations are gorgeous and capture the feelings and events in an extraordinary way but the story is too disjointed. I thought the book was finished when I got to the afterword but there was still much more - including Shelley's training sled dogs and racing in the Iditarod!
May 22, 2017
I love that this is a picture that is more geared toward a YA audience but I found the writing to be lacking and didn't really fully grasp the purpose of the story.
February 17, 2018
3 stars
A quick read that gives readers a glimpse of one woman's coming-of-age in the 1970s. Plus a dog!
- Miss Anna
A quick read that gives readers a glimpse of one woman's coming-of-age in the 1970s. Plus a dog!
- Miss Anna
September 22, 2016
While the illustrations were gorgeous, the story was a bit lacking. I felt like it would have been better conveyed in a comic style format than a book with illustrations.
April 18, 2016
This backward look at the turbulent 1970s features an independent woman and the devoted dog who seems to have accompanied her each step of the way as she crisscrossed the country trying to find herself and make a contribution to causes that mattered to her. Gabe, a husky mix, came into the author's life after his owner leaves him behind at a music festival in Colorado. Off they go to New Orleans, Indiana, New York City, the Rocky Mountains, back to New Orleans, and on to Alaska, where they eventually settled down. The stories the author shares about this incredible dog make it clear that he had no intention of letting anything come between them, and he almost sounds legendary in many respects. I was somewhat confused by how the narrative indicates that she and Gabe first met in 1972 when he was a pup and that he died in the spring after she moved to Homer, Alaska in 1982, and that he lived to be seventeen. I wish that part had been clearer, and I also wish there had been more reasons given for all that moving around from place to place. Surely, she had many adventures but must have faced some scary moments, which this soft version of her life story seems to omit. Still, the story makes it clear that these two shared an amazing bond. The artwork, created in pencil, scanned and then Photoshopped, admirably captures the flavor of the times and the strength of this beautiful dog. As the back of the book reminds readers, home really is where one's dog is. I would add that there's no home without a dog or a cat.
April 18, 2016
I'll give this 2 stars for the illustrations, but overall this little book is just strange, and I really don't know where it belongs. While the full-page illustrations are beautiful and eye-catching, I'd say a very specific audience of adults who lived through the free love movement of the 60's and 70's and love dogs may enjoy this book, but otherwise there is little reason to pick it up.
Gabe briefly tells the story of the author's journey from wild child to adult during the 70's while also touching on the life of her companion - a large stray dog named Gabe. Unfortunately, the text is so brief that none of the 3 subjects are covered in a useful manner. Readers would be required to have some background knowledge of the time to understand the author's life, and if you're reading to find more about the 70's, you'll find yourself disappointed. I also find the depiction of the author's life and her dog rather troubling. As some others have mentioned, the author runs away from home at 17 and lives, what most would call, a dangerous life. There is no warning or caution in her writing - she almost goes the the extent of idealizing a life of homelessness. Her dog, who she sees as a warm, loving companion, is often depicted as wild, dangerous, and just down right scary making me really question the author's judgement as a person (and subsequently in her writing).
I really wouldn't recommend this book and don't imagine many libraries will purchase it for the collection.
Gabe briefly tells the story of the author's journey from wild child to adult during the 70's while also touching on the life of her companion - a large stray dog named Gabe. Unfortunately, the text is so brief that none of the 3 subjects are covered in a useful manner. Readers would be required to have some background knowledge of the time to understand the author's life, and if you're reading to find more about the 70's, you'll find yourself disappointed. I also find the depiction of the author's life and her dog rather troubling. As some others have mentioned, the author runs away from home at 17 and lives, what most would call, a dangerous life. There is no warning or caution in her writing - she almost goes the the extent of idealizing a life of homelessness. Her dog, who she sees as a warm, loving companion, is often depicted as wild, dangerous, and just down right scary making me really question the author's judgement as a person (and subsequently in her writing).
I really wouldn't recommend this book and don't imagine many libraries will purchase it for the collection.
February 10, 2016
The age range for this book is listed as 8-12. But I don't think I would give this book to someone so young. Sure the story of the dog, Gabe, is cute. Who doesn't love a story about a rescued dog that protects their human companion through it all? However, I object to the portrayal of the runaway teenager that goes around from town to town doing odd-end jobs. The books gives this lifestyle a positive spin (the story IS about the author), but still, a young impressionable mind can get the wrong idea about this so-called free spirit lifestyle. There are no details of the hardship and struggle that such a lifestyle brings. I'm sure it wasn't all rosy.
This is the type of book that you need to read WITH your children and explain the situations that are happening in the book. Don't just take it as a "cute doggy story".
ARC from Netgalley
This is the type of book that you need to read WITH your children and explain the situations that are happening in the book. Don't just take it as a "cute doggy story".
ARC from Netgalley
August 11, 2016
The illustrations are beautiful, but mostly this book rambles a bit and doesn't have a clear purpose. It's a memoir of sorts, but too short to dig deeply into any one story. Also, it's definitely not appropriate for young readers as advertised, since there are many references to drug use and other shady things.
June 28, 2016
An interesting story that defies categorization. The text isn't overly difficult and is supported by rich illustrations. But the topics include free love, nomadic existence, and drug use. Might be fun for teens who need an easier text.
May 10, 2016
I marked this one as an autobiography, but the author really seems to be telling the story of the dog more than of her own life, so I'm not sure if that tag really fits.
May 15, 2016
hysterically crying after this. Tremendous book in a such a short span.
"Home is where your dog is."
"Home is where your dog is."
September 2, 2025
Short illustrated story about a woman's nomadic life with her dog.
1970s
1970s
June 10, 2016
Memories of a colorful, itinerant life and a tough, loyal canine companion.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews