In
all my years of reading, never have I encountered such a pile of decadent
filth, vulgar, badly written, permeated so frightfully with overt sexual
innuendo, grotesque violence and bad language, whose very existence has cast a
stain on the world of children’s literature and whose morals are so deeply
questionable and beyond salvage that I have to announce my absolute indignation
in ever letting my tender eyeballs peruse the words written therein....
But what am I saying? By the purpose of barefaced
see-through irony I hoped to grab the reader’s attention, so that I might
explain how fully and how deeply I am in love with this wonderful and charming
little book. In the edition I read, it began with a quote from A.A. Milne, the
writer of Winnie-the-Pooh, who sang
the praises of The Wind in
the Willows to such an extent that I felt he must be exaggerating; for it
could not be as wonderful as all that, surely? I can report, to my immense
satisfaction, how correct Milne actually was.
We only need to start with the title itself: The Wind in the Willows. Just say it out
loud for me. A lovely sounding little sentence, isn’t it? All those lovely ‘W’
sounds in it, a title so evocative of the natural world in which the book is
set, yet only vaguely connected to anything in the story. It’s just a title. The
only purpose for its being there instead of some other title being that it is
gorgeous, and in that respect it is the most fitting title for a work of
literature such as this. What else could you call it, I wonder: ‘Moley and
Ratty Bumbling Around a River’? ‘Joy-Riding With Animals’? ‘Picnics and
Weasels’? ‘The Adventures of Mister Toad’? (actually, this is a name used for
various stripped-out adaptations of the work, which concentrate on Toad’s
character arc, taken from one of the chapter headings – also to note that 1949
Disney adaptation originally styled itself as this). No; Grahame made an
inspired choice, and this is probably in my ‘Top 3’ best-named novels of all
time.
The story concerns four animals and their relaxed lives in
the English countryside. Mole is a mild little guy who, fed up with spring-cleaning,
leaves his house one day and strolls off into the blue – where he meets Rat,
the jolly boat-loving Water Rat (or Water Vole to use the politically correct
term nowadays). The two become fast friends, later meeting rough-and-ready
warm-hearted Badger, and the impetuous and conceited Mister Toad of Toad Hall. While
Moley and Ratty bumble around the countryside, Toad forms an obsession for
those new-fangled motor cars that are tearing up our roads and causing a
frightful racket, ends up stealing one and is later summarily thrown in prison
for being such a mischief-maker. Toad then escapes, now a wanted fugitive, and
makes his way back home where at the climax of the tale he discovers his house
has been taken over by Weasels, and has to rely on his friends Mole, Rat and
Badger to help restore him to his property.
We all have our favourite character in The Wind in the Willows – the sky is blue and the sea is wet – and
my favourite is without a doubt Mister Rat. Firstly, I know he’s a water vole (Arvicola amphibious), not a true
rat, but he proudly wears the name of rat. We are used to seeing rats portrayed
in dark and villainous roles in entertainment, and they are generally feared
and hated by people – a tragedy considering how clever and versatile a species
they are, and one whose success is due in no small part to the simple fact of
human existence; we ourselves make the conditions that rats thrive in. That the
character of Rat can bear such a name with no stigma, no suspicion, and be one
of the most stalwart and loveable of all characters in children’s literature is
a blow struck for common decency, as far as I believe. Then there is the actual
character of Rat; dependable, worthy, sticks up for his friends both through
thick and thin, and seems to have absolutely the right idea about how to spend
one’s life:
‘ “Nice?
It’s the only thing,” said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his
stroke. “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth
doing as simply messing around in boats. Simply messing,” he went on dreamily: “messing
– about – in –boats; messing – “
“Look
ahead, Rat!” cried the Mole suddenly.
It
was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the joyous
oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels in the air.
“
– about in boats – or with boats,” the Rat went on composedly, picking himself
up with a pleasant laugh. “In ‘em or out ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems
really to matter, that’s the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you
don’t; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere
else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you’re always busy, and you
never do anything in particular; and when you’ve done it there’s always
something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you’d much better
not.” ’
[Grahame,
Kenneth. The Wind in the Willows.
Methuen. (1935) pp. 4-5]
It’s this espousal of the relaxed attitude to life that
forms so much of the underlying wonder of this book. That’s what it is:
relaxing. And it has a jolly good time doing so. Besides our beloved Ratty there is also polite, shy, unassuming
Mole, who’s new-found wonder for the world makes him a loveable audience
surrogate; there’s Badger, who though unwilling to mix in society and
preferring to live in the middle of the Wild Woods, possesses a warm-hearted
appeal and a willingness to open his door to those who need him. His house, his
badger set rather, is a lovely location which forms the bedrock of one of the
most relaxing chapters in the whole relaxing book. And when roused, Badger
proves a masterful leader, with clear ideas about what to do and how to do it,
and who won’t put up with crap from anybody.
And then there’s Toad. This guy literally steals the show –
and a shiny red car – with his caper, imprisonment and escape. The main thing
to note about Toad is that he is genuinely a maniac; as in, he must suffer from
deep-rooted psychological problems – he can’t control himself, can’t reign in
his naughty desires, can’t listen when his friends are trying to help him. One
moment he is sincerely sorry for all the wrong he has done, aware of how much
trouble he’s in, the next he’s triumphantly skipping along and prattling about
how clever he is. And he does this over and over again, never learning
anything. Only right at the end does he learn some modicum of self control,
after Badger and Rat have told him for the umpteenth time to get a grip on
himself and deflate his stupid head. He is undoubtedly guilty for what in
Edwardian times counts as joyriding, and though I disagree about the twenty
years in prison he gets sentenced, really jail is the right place for him. He’s
a menace to society – jail, or perhaps a mental hospital of some sort, over a
prolonged period with no escapes. I mean, at one stage his friends do the next
best thing and keep him locked up under supervision in his own house.
But speaking of Toad’s liability to break the law, this
presents one slight little plot-hole that is never resolved. Toad definitely
did commit a crime, and he was successfully prosecuted for it. He escapes from
prison, and is pursued by the police; Toad naturally thinks that all he needs to
do is get back home, which he eventually does – despite the likelihood that
even the most stupid law-enforcer could probably think it advisable to look for
him there of all places. They know who’s escaped, and they know where he lives.
But besides retaking Toad Hall from the Weasels and getting Toad to reform his
character, nothing else is actually done; the bobbies are still technically after
him at the closing of the book, and he can’t expect to hide in plain sight by
living his life as before. But no, all one has to do to escape the law is get
back home, apparently, and such issues can easily be forgotten.
This is the only
small gripe I have with the book; the rest of it holds together admirably. The
best chapters are always those dealing with Rat and Mole, as there is never the
desire for action or adventure as we get in the Toad sections – we just amble
through the natural world with Kenneth Grahame’s beautiful writing abilities to
guide us. I’m serious; this man could really write, and The Wind in the Willows comes alive in the sections where there’s
nothing much else happening. Oh, stuff happens all right; Mole goes off into
the Wild Woods where he is stalked by weasels, Ratty meets a drifter who
entrances him with talks of far-away shores, Mole revisits his old home where
he receives something of an epiphany, and the pair of them run into the godly
presence of someone who can only be Pan – a wonderful pagan addition to the
book which gives it an unexpected and rich flavour on top of everything else.
It just gently flows along, happy in its own rhythm, and it is rare for me to
read a book that is such a joy to just read. Here’s a little excerpt from the
time that Mole and Rat get lost in the middle of the dark Wild Woods:
‘ “What’s
up, Ratty?” asked the Mole.
“Snow is up,” replied the Rat briefly; “or rather
down. It’s snowing hard.”
The
Mole came and crouched beside him, and, looking out, saw the wood that had been
so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes, hollows, pools, pitfalls,
and other black menaces to the wayfarer
were vanishing fast, and a gleaming carpet of faery was springing up
everywhere, that looked too delicate to be trodden upon by rough feet. A fine
powder filled the air and caressed the cheek with a tingle in its touch, and
the black boles of the trees showed up in a light that seemed to come from
below. ’
[Methuen.
(1935) Pg. 37]
In
essence, The Wind in the Willows is perfect, and well worth a read. It has been adapted and abridged
many times, but really this is one case of the text itself being the real key
to enjoying it. The book’s not long, and it’s not difficult, so if you’ve never
actually read the original then, like me, you can discover a world of delight
just waiting for you within its pages.
Bib of Biblio Hall
Grahame, Kenneth. The Wind in the Willows. 49th
Ed. Methuen & Co. Ltd. (1935
[First Published 1908])
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