Saturday, 9 August 2014

The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame



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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