One of the books I've enjoyed reading the most with my sons is the early 20th century British classic The Wind in the Willows, the fantasy story by Kenneth Grahame about the adventures of several anthropomorphized (and quite civilized - in the British fashion) animals, who have their own village or settlement that somehow coexists alongside the human world. Each creature is archetypal in some respects, with their main overriding characteristic representing some facet found in human nature. At the same time, there are multiple sides to their personalities: Mole is perpetually enthusiastic and optimistic, but naive; Badger is gruff and irascible, but ultimately kind-hearted; Rat is usually eminently and reliably practical, but also given to daydreams; and Toad is profligate, arrogant, and obsessive, yet somehow still loveable.
In a rhapsodic way that treats nature as a source of mystic revelry, the story primarily follows Mole's awakening to life and friendship aboveground after years of living only in his burrow. Of course, there's also Toad, a rich animal who gets himself into deep trouble by disregarding his friends' help and indulging in a mania for fast cars. With funny situations, relatable characters, and beautiful language, my sons and I have enjoyed reading it over and over again.
In the Signet Classics edition of the book, there is an essay by novelist Luanne Rice about the life of the author Kenneth Grahame (pictured below).
His life, I found out, was not a happy one. When he was only five years old, his mother died, leaving him and his three siblings alone with their alcoholic father. Realizing he could not care for his children, the father sent them to live with relatives in the countryside. Those relatives were described as "indifferent" and "emotionally distant" toward the children who, as a result, began to invent games and characters among themselves. The essay suggests it might have been in this context that the characters of The Wind in the Willows were created.
Later, other events intervened for Grahame. At the age of nine he was sent to boarding school and developed a love of books and writing. He wanted to study at Oxford to become an author, but his caretakers would not allow it, forcing him instead to go to work at the Bank of England. He survived being shot during a bank robbery and then entered into a loveless, unhappy marriage. All along, however, he wrote stories during what free time he could muster and when his son Alastair was born (premature and nearly blind), he told him bedtime stories - about a mole, a toad, and a badger, among other creatures. These tales evolved into The Wind in the Willows and Alastair, despite chronic health problems, realized his father's dream by enrolling at Oxford. It seemed as though there might be a happy ending, until Alastair committed suicide at the age of twenty.
In Bob Dylan's song Not Dark Yet, he sings, "Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain." I feel that very keenly after reading about Grahame's life. It seems that we can see the scars of his trauma and the yearnings of his whole life throughout the tale: Toad disappearing on self-destructive joyrides (like the father on alcoholic benders?), remote and stern Badger who becomes more kindly (like the relatives Grahame hoped would relent?), and the myopic and shy Mole who comes out of his burrow and his shell to a whole new world of friends (like the sickly and near-sighted Alastair?). Grahame's life speaks to me of the healing power of writing, of trying to re-take ownership of a life spinning out of control by telling your own story, even when that feels most hopeless. Spinning a story can be like weaving the threads of a parachute, to protect against the impending crash.
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