KATHERINE APPLEGATE
The
ONE
AND
ONLY
Ivan
Patricia Castelao
—George Eliot
chest beat: repeated slapping of the chest with one or both hands in order to generate a loud sound (sometimes used by gorillas as a threat display to intimidate an opponent)
domain: territory
the Grunt: snorting, piglike noise made by gorilla parents to express annoyance
me-ball: dried excrement thrown at observers
9,855 days (example): While gorillas in the wild typically gauge the passing of time based on seasons or food availability, Ivan has adopted a tally of days. (9,855 days is equal to twenty-seven years.)
Not-Tag: stuffed toy gorilla
silverback (also, less frequently, grayboss): an adult male over twelve years old with an area of silver hair on his back. The silverback is a figure of authority, responsible for protecting his family.
slimy chimp (slang; offensive): a human (refers to sweat on hairless skin)
vining: casual play (a reference to vine swinging)
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Glossary
hello
names
patience
how I look
the exit 8 big top mall and video arcade
the littlest big top on earth
gone
artists
shapes in clouds
imagination
the loneliest gorilla in the world
tv
the nature show
stella
stella’s trunk
a plan
bob
wild
picasso
three visitors
my visitors return
sorry
julia
drawing bob
bob and julia
mack
not sleepy
the beetle
change
guessing
jambo
lucky
arrival
stella helps
old news
tricks
introductions
stella and ruby
home of the one and only ivan
art lesson
treat
elephant jokes
children
the parking lot
ruby’s story
a hit
worry
the promise
knowing
five men
comfort
crying
the one and only ivan
once upon a time
the grunt
mud
protector
a perfect life
the end
vine
the temporary human
hunger
still life
punishment
babies
beds
my place
nine thousand eight hundred and seventy-six days
a visit
a new beginning
poor mack
colors
a bad dream
the story
how
remembering
what they did
something else to buy
another ivan
days
nights
project
not right
going nowhere
bad guys
ad
imagining
not-tag
one more thing
the seven-o’clock show
twelve
H
nervous
showing julia
more paintings
chest-beating
angry
puzzle pieces
finally
the next morning
mad human
phone call
a star again
the ape artist
interview
the early news
signs on sticks
protesters
check marks
free ruby
new box
training
poking and prodding
no painting
more boxes
good-bye
click
an idea
respect
photo
leaving
good boy
moving
awakening
missing
food
not famous
something in the air
a new tv
the family
excited
what i see
still there
watching
she
door
wondering
ready
outside at last
oops
what it was like
pretending
nest
more tv
it
romance
more about romance
grooming
talk
the top of the hill
the wall
safe
silverback
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Author's Note
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
I am Ivan. I am a gorilla.
It’s not as easy as it looks.
People call me the Freeway Gorilla. The Ape at Exit 8. The One and Only Ivan, Mighty Silverback.
The names are mine, but they’re not me. I am Ivan, just Ivan, only Ivan.
Humans waste words. They toss them like banana peels and leave them to rot.
Everyone knows the peels are the best part.
I suppose you think gorillas can’t understand you. Of course, you also probably think we can’t walk upright.
Try knuckle walking for an hour. You tell me: Which way is more fun?
I’ve learned to understand human words over the years, but understanding human speech is not the same as understanding humans.
Humans speak too much. They chatter like chimps, crowding the world with their noise even when they have nothing to say.
It took me some time to recognize all those human sounds, to weave words into things. But I was patient.
Patient is a useful way to be when you’re an ape.
Gorillas are as patient as stones. Humans, not so much.
I used to be a wild gorilla, and I still look the part.
I have a gorilla’s shy gaze, a gorilla’s sly smile. I wear a snowy saddle of fur, the uniform of a silverback. When the sun warms my back, I cast a gorilla’s majestic shadow.
In my size humans see a test of themselves. They hear fighting words on the wind, when all I’m thinking is how the late-day sun reminds me of a ripe nectarine.
I’m mightier than any human, four hundred pounds of pure power. My body looks made for battle. My arms, outstretched, span taller than the tallest human.
My family tree spreads wide as well. I am a great ape, and you are a great ape, and so are chimpanzees and orangutans and bonobos, all of us distant and distrustful cousins.
I know this is troubling.
I too find it hard to believe there is a connection across time and space, linking me to a race of ill-mannered clowns.
Chimps. There’s no excuse for them.
