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Musings: The Fate of Rabbits in Watership Down

Watership Down by Richard Adams

Scribner, 2005 (reprint edition)

ISBN-13: 978-0743277709

Available:  Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, Audible

I am reading Watership Down with my daughter.  It’s one of my favorite books. She is a little younger than I was when I was first given my copy, but I read it by myself and we are reading it together (never let anyone tell you that kids outgrow reading aloud with loved ones). It’s a long book and it’s possible that many of you have never read it, although you might have been traumatized by the movie as a child (I’ve never seen the movie, myself). People who love a fast-moving plot might lose patience with Watership Down and its fearful, brave group of rabbits on their journey to a new home. But stick with it, and the personalities of the rabbits and their dilemmas start to catch you.

So far, in our reading, the rabbits have escaped arrest, fled into a forest, successfully avoided a skunk and a dog, crossed a river, crossed a road, and traveled for a long distance to finally find what looks like a safe place for a new home, only to be approached by a large, well-fed, and generous rabbit who offers to adopt them into a nearby warren where all the rabbits are large and well-fed, there are no threats and no need to search for food. My Goblin Girl looked at me and said, “These rabbits are going to sacrifice other rabbits, aren’t they, so they can stay well-fed and healthy?”

Have I mentioned that I just re-read “The Lottery”? This prediction gave me chills.

I’m going to spoil the story for you and say that’s kind of exactly what happens.The rabbits in the warren have an unspoken arrangement with the farmer nearby. He kills off all their enemies and leaves them vegetable heap scraps, and they pretend they don’t know what has happened to rabbits that go missing because he’s caught them in a trap.

“Either that, or they’re cannibals”.

Cannibal rabbits?

Given her second guess, I don’t think she read ahead.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because the rabbits are too nice and too healthy and that’s always a trap. Like in The Silver Chair, the giants were kind to Eustace and Lucy but their cookbook had a recipe on “How to Cook Man”. So the rabbits either want to sacrifice Hazel or eat him”.

She’s currently leaning more toward the “cannibal” theory, rather gleefully. Never let it be said that children’s literature is sunny all the time. Those cute, fluffy, bunnies clearly are dangerous creatures. As is a well-read child.

Watership Down is sometimes read as an allegory dealing with different ways of organizing society. And this part of the novel tells us a lot about our current moment. The rabbits of the warren are willing to ignore any question that might force them to think about the brutality behind the bargain they have made, because as long as they don’t, they can enjoy a comfortable, and mostly secure life. They have normalized the disappearance of friends and family as just part of the price they pay to keep their lives easy.

The rabbits of the warren are actually scarier than the people in “The Lottery”. In “The Lottery”, everyone knows someone participating in the drawing is going to be next. The consequence is totally horrific, but at least people know what’s going on. The rabbits of the warren, though, don’t tell Hazel’s band about the arrangement they have with the farmer, that he sets traps to catch them in exchange for their easy life. Instead, they welcome the new rabbits, whose presence makes it less likely that the original rabbits will be the ones trapped, so Hazel’s bunch don’t know what to expect. The original rabbits don’t have to see what happens, so as long as they don’t talk about the missing, they can pretend nothing’s wrong. It’s not viscerally horrific like the events of “The Lottery”, but the “I didn’t see the consequences of my actions so it never happened” attitude is terrifying, because it is so real. It’s a good thing this is a story about rabbits.

I can see why my daughter prefers the cannibal rabbit theory. Nothing says “it can’t happen here” like a carnivorous bunny of evil.

Beyond the particulars, here, I want to say that the predictions she made, based on things she’s read in the past, show how essential it is to read, and hopefully, to read widely. If everyone could see the shape of a narrative, and think critically about the words set in front of them, the world, I think, would be a better place. I don’t care what format you are using for your reading, DO IT. And talk about it with as many people as you can. Seriously, I am a boring person to listen to if you don’t want to hear about books, but I will talk to you about them as much as I can.

The political implications of Watership Down are not something I noticed as a kid and they aren’t related to why I’m reading it with the Goblin Girl now. I just loved the story, and it’s worth reading just for the adventure of it. But I see them now, and just how very human Richard Adams’ rabbits are.

Watership Down is not horror, by a long shot, but it does show how the horrific can become an everyday, normalized experience. So, how’s your reading going?

 


 

Posted on March 14, 2017 by , Reply

Book Review: The Singing Bones by Shaun Tan

The Singing Bones by Shaun Tan
Arthur A. Levine Books, 2016
ISBN-13: 978-0545946124
Available: Hardcover

 

My most memorable previous experience of Shaun Tan’s work was the surrealist graphic novel The Arrival; a touching, wordless tale of an immigrant arriving in an unfamiliar place. The art and story together have a powerful impact in showing the universality of what it means to be a stranger arriving in a strange land, using unique images to communicate what words are unable to. The Singing Bones is completely different, but it also expresses universality using images with a powerful visual impact.

The Singing Bones has an introduction by author Neil Gaiman and a foreword by fairy tale scholar Jack Zipes, clues that the reader is in for a fascinating tour of the Grimm brothers’ tales. Tan pairs snippets from stories by the Grimm brothers with photographs of minimalist sculptures based on the stories. The sculptures were influenced by the styles used by Inuit and Pre-Columbian people. and are mainly made out of paper mache, found objects, and clay, primarily in red, black, and white. Each is presented in a double-paged spread, with the story snippet on the otherwise blank left hand page and the photograph of the sculpture it inspired on the right. The lines and curves in the sculptures are clean and uncluttered. Some sculptures represent the story fully– the one devoted to “Rapunzel” could be a tower, or a girl, or both. Others show a single moment– the one for “The Frog King” depicts the frog’s head poking out of circular ripples at the moment just before he would have spoken to the princess.  The first look is not enough; while the sculptures may seem simple, reading the snippets and spending time looking at the photographs of the sculptures reveals that there is a lot to see in what might seem like uncomplicated objects. Be advised that these are not Disneyfied stories; Tan includes the story “Mother Trudy”, which has a very unpleasant ending for the child protagonist. There’s a very primal, visceral feel to the experience of going through these pages. The photographic spreads are followed by an explanation by Tan of the process used, and then by an index that fully summarizes the Grimm’s tale associated with each sculpture.

I discovered this book in the children’s section of my library, and I’m not sure it belongs there. As an art book and an exploration of Grimm’s tales, it is outstanding, but in a very nontraditional way, and I think many adults would really enjoy it. However, while my nine year old was enchanted by it, it also gave her nightmares, and required considerable discussion and research as a follow-up. It was a good experience for us together, but would have been difficult for her on her own. I can highly recommend it for elementary-aged and middle school children with an adult as a read-and-share title, and as a stand-alone title for ages 14 and older.


Posted on March 10, 2017 by , Reply

Book Review: The Black Pearl by Scott O’Dell

The Black Pearl by Scott O’Dell

HMH Editions for Young Readers, 2010 (reprint)

ISBN-13: 978-0547334004

Available: Paperback, Audible, Kindle edition

 

Scott O’Dell is best known as a writer of historical fiction for children, particularly for novels set  in California or Mexico. He is most well-known for his middle-grade survival story and Newbery Award-winning novel Island of the Blue Dolphins, as well as three Newbery Honor books: The King’s Fifth, Sing Down the Moon, and The Black Pearl. In addition to winning several additional awards, he also established one: The Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction, which is awarded yearly to an American writer of an outstanding work of historical fiction for children. The Black Pearl, first published in 1967, is indeed a work of historical fiction– but it’s also a pretty terrifying book, with much of it devoted to a legendary sea monster, the Manta Diablo.

Sixteen year old Ramon Sandoval’s father is a pearl merchant, and has just made him a partner in the business. Ramon is eager to learn to dive for pearls, but his father has reservations. His father and the other pearl divers are large, muscled men, while Ramon is still not entirely grown. When Ramon finally convinces his father to take him on an expedition, he meets the Sevillano, a talented diver with a storehouse of outrageous stories about frightening monsters and giant pearls.

During his father’s next absence, Ramon, determined to prove himself, pays an Indian who has come to sell a pearl to teach him how to dive. He hopes to find the great pearl of the Sevillano’s stories: the Pearl of Heaven. The Indian warns Ramon of the Manta Diablo, a vengeful giant black manta ray who guards the pearls in his cave under the lagoon where the Indian dives. Despite the warning, Ramon dives into the cave, pries out a gigantic oyster, and finds an enormous black pearl.  When the Manta Diablo discovers the cave is in disarray,  it’s a race to escape home with the pearl before he is caught.  Once revealed, the pearl garners a great deal of unwanted attention from the town, but despite its size and beauty, he and his father are unable to sell it. Ramon comes to believe the pearl is cursed and that he must return it to the monster, but the Sevillano has other ideas, and they embark on a dangerous voyage by water, chased by the Manta Diablo.

The story is framed by the introduction of the Manta Diablo, a local legend used by mothers to scare their children into behaving. Ramon, while not a believer, loves this story. The Sevillano, who has been out in the ocean, makes this a more believable story, and the Indian’s dread reinforces it. None of this is enough to convince the skeptical Ramon, who is determined to find the legendary Pearl of Heaven– when it comes to legends, apparently greed and ambition outweigh fear. As the novel progresses, the Indian’s dread is infectious, and Ramon actually begins to believe that there might really be some truth to the legend. The manta’s chase and the battle with the manta up the tension, although it’s certainly possible that Ramon is more terrified of the Sevillano than he is of the manta.

While the writing is somewhat stilted and dated, and the book starts with somewhat of a slow pace, once the pearl divers enter the scene the story becomes engaging, not just because Ramon is engaged in the experience, but because it is fascinating, and something most people know little about. As the book progresses, it’s interesting to see how his relationship with both his father and the Sevillano develop. Ramon’s experiences as he learns to dive in the lagoon are immersive; O’Dell’s descriptions are gorgeously written. Ramon’s interactions with the Indian at that time start to ratchet up the suspense, especially once Ramon enters the cave of the Manta Diablo. The legendary manta of terror and its appearances in the novel, be they through story or through Ramon’s perceptions of his experience, snagged this reader from the first page, and O’Dell’s suggestion that something can be both beautiful and evil is food for thought.  Recommended for grades 4 and up.

Reader’s advisory note: Older children and teens who like this book might like The Pearl by John Steinbeck or The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.

Content note: The representation of the Indians in the book as especially superstitious and violent is a talking point you might want to cover with your child, as well as the religious motivations behind some of the actions (not being Catholic, certain children thought the Madonna referred to in the story was the American pop singer, which caused some confusion).


Posted on February 20, 2017 by , Reply
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