I finally read 'The Wind in the Willows' recently. It is considered a classic, which is funny because it is simply an episodic account of the life of 4 animals, a children's tale (I found it in the Jr. fiction section of the library). Even
The Jungle Book is different, as it is really a story of a boy and not that of the animals- although there are similarities that I will come to a bit later.
Alice in Wonderland has animals, but they really are oddities like the Cheshire Cat and the March Hare, fitting well with other curious creatures like the mad hatter and gryphons. So why call this book of serial fables a classic? Not just a children's classic, but a classic for the ages. Here is praise from Wikipedia:
In 1909, Theodore Roosevelt, then US president, wrote to Grahame to tell him that he had "read it and reread it, and have come to accept the characters as old friends." In 2003, The Wind in the Willows was listed at number 16 on the BBC's survey The Big Read.
I guess the answer lies in the setting of the book, the stage these 4 characters carry out their adventures on. The book is really a paean to the mystical beauty of the British Isles: the meadow, the river, the wood and the country road. Mother nature is the main protagonist of the book, and that is what the reader responds to. And if you think about it, it has to be. This may sound a bit dramatic, but imagine that you are walking down a country path, through a field of yellow flowers, crossing a brook, maybe cutting though a meadow, all the time in conversation with a friend (I have done this exact walk near London). Even as you talk animatedly about various things, the spectacle around you would crowd into your consciousness. Pretty soon, you would pause the conversation to remark about the scenes around you.The vista is impossible to ignore and demands acclaim. But after a point, you would drink it in quietly, as only a good artist can prepare a fitting tribute to that beauty. Kenneth Grahame was one such artist, using his words to paint a picture that is worth the thousands words he puts into it. You cannot write a good book set in the lap of nature, without it impinging onto a good part of the book.
A few examples:
"Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing."
"The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spell-bound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea."
"Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came to keep them company and listen to their talk."
There are other elements to enjoy, including the characters themselves, but this is probably the best reason I enjoyed it. In fact, one of the best chapters is an overt tribute to nature, with a pagan god of nature showing himself to the animals.
This is true for many classics. '
Three men in a boat', '
Remains of the day', '
To Kill a Mockingbird', '
A Town like Alice', '
The Moonstone', and even books by Wodehouse, always seem to be telling the reader: "The story is fine and all that, but can't you see that is really the sideshow? I mean, look at the birds and the bees, dammit!"
Anthropomorphism: A more subtle tribute to nature is the human attributes that authors give to the animals in their books. The best authors make you go 'aha! that is how the animal actually behaves!'. One enjoys
Rikki Tikki Tavi because it draws an insightful picture of a spry, sporting and valiant animal- it makes one appreciate a unique creature of nature. The characters in
The Jungle Book are not nearly as true to their true selves- but one can still appreciate the carefree life of the bear, a huge animal hunting honey and coconuts. Here, Kenneth does a half-decent job, representing the mole, the water-rat and the badger well, but failing with the toad - way too human.
In some ways, this is an exact converse of such books as
Gulliver's Travels, Aesop's fables, Jataka Tales- they are allegories that highlight the quirks of human nature. Books such as TWITW are allegories that highlight the quirks of animal nature.
The birdhouse haiku: The best anthropomorphism always brings out the drama inherent in nature- the amusing characters abound, if one were to just observe. For instance, the bird feeder gives me several moments of amusement during the day, with each species that visits it displaying their quirky and very consistent behavior.
The cardinal pair is usually the first and always the last, and always in pairs. The cardinals pair for life and are usually together. Their low 'chick chick' is the first thing I hear in the morning.
Here is a good haiku (by Michael Rosen) that describes this best:
first feeders at dawn
paired like red quotation marks
last feeders at dusk
Like quotation marks, they travel in pairs, framing the beginning and the end of the day.
The chickadees follow, bristling with energy and bursting with song. They have bad table manners, getting up from the table and flying away after every morsel.
The house finches are the most amusing of the lot. Fusspots of the worst kind, they don't like to share the table with others. After shooing away the obliging chickadees, they sift through the food, chucking half of it down on to the ground and eating only the best bits. This is good news for the heavier moaning doves and the lazy juncos. They walk about on the ground under the birdhouse, pecking away at the morsels thrown down by the finches.
The finches usually stick around in winter, even in snow country, which sets the context for this next haiku:
ice-capped finch feeder
hulls scattered, black snow on white
and the bird's gray weight
The 'hulls' is a term for the shells of the feed thrown down on to the white snow by the fussy finch. The poet also marvels that even a bird as small and light as the finch leaves its tracks on the snow, which is what he refers to in the 3rd line- the weight is also a metaphor for the weight of winter.
The point is, prose and anthropomorphism can be powerful tributes to nature-and that is as good a reason to enjoy a book as any other. In the next post, I will cover a few more such haiku I enjoyed recently.
