This is one of those books I want to love; I REALLY, really want to love this book. I've read so many essays by book lovers who have fond, childhood memories of being read this by their father, or who ushered in spring each year by taking this book to a grassy field and reading this in the first warm breezes of May. I want to find the tea and boating and wooded English countryside to be slow yet sonoriously comforting, like a Bach cello suite or a warm cup of cider on a cool April night.

But I just find it tediously boring. I've tried it three times, and after about twelve pages I sigh, put it down, and pick up something else. Perhaps my father needed to have read it to me when I was young.

Some of the best children’s classics have started with an adult inventing stories to tell to a child. “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, “Winnie the Pooh”, “Peter Pan” and even “Watership Down” all began this way, as did many others. The Wind in the Willows is another such. Like them, it is a novel which can be read on many levels, and arguably has a hidden subtext. And like some others, its writing was prompted by a family tragedy.

Kenneth Grahame had already established himself as a talented writer, and had considerable literary success in the 1890s. He regularly published stories in literary magazines. These stories about a family of parentless children, were collected in one volume called “The Golden Age” in 1895. He followed this up in 1898 with “Dream Days”, a sequel, which was even more successful, and established him as a writer with a special insight into childhood. “Dream Days” itself included another children’s story, “The Reluctant Dragon”. Throughout his career, he had published children’s books and a memoir of childhood. He was successful and well-known, well before The Wind In The Willows was even thought of.

Kenneth Grahame had a child of his own, Alastair, to whom he felt very close. He used to tell his son fanciful stories about wild animals who lived by the nearby river, and in the “Wild Wood”. When Alastair was about four years old, Kenneth Grahame would tell “Mouse” (his nickname for Alastair) bedtime stories about a toad. And whenever the two were apart, his father would write more tales about Toad, Mole, Ratty and Badger in letters to his young son Alastair.

Kenneth Grahame’s own childhood at this age however, was far from rosy. He had been born in 1859, in Edinburgh. His father was aristocratic; a failed lawyer, who loved poetry—but who loved vintage claret even more. The drinking became worse when Kenneth Grahame’s mother, Bessie, died soon after she had given birth to his brother, Roland. Kenneth was just 5, when he and his three siblings went to live with their grandmother. There they lived in a spacious but dilapidated home with huge grounds, by the river Thames, and were introduced to the riverside and boating by their uncle, who was a curate.

We can clearly see echoes of his childhood in The Wind in the Willows. His grandmother’s decrepit house, “The Mount” has transmogrified into the huge mansion, “Toad Hall”, and the book is redolent with riverside and boating scenes. Kenneth Grahame was forced to move to and fro between the two adults, when the chimney of the house collapsed one Christmas, and shortly afterwards their father tried to overcome his drinking problem and took the children back to live with him in Argyll, Scotland. This brief sojourn only lasted a year before they all returned to their grandmother, where Kenneth lived until he went to an Independent school in Oxford. Whilst there he had the freedom to explore the old city as well as the upper reaches of the River Thames, and the nearby countryside. All this comes into The Wind in the Willows.

The young Kenneth did well at school, and dreamed of going to university. He was actually offered a place at the prestigious Oxford University, and was set for high academic honours, but it was not to be. The family finances had dwindled so much that his father wanted him go into a profession straight from school. Kenneth Grahame was therefore forced straight into work at the Bank of England, and duly worked there for thirty years, gradually rising through the ranks to become its Secretary. In 1908, the year The Wind in the Willows was published, he took early retirement.

As a young man in his 20s, Kenneth Grahame was a contemporary and friend of Oscar Wilde. Although married, and having a home in Berkshire, during the week he shared a London home with the painter and theatre set designer, Walford Graham Robertson. Both were very involved with the gay community, whose leading light at the time was Oscar Wilde. Another connection with the gay community was through Constance Smedley, a family friend who helped with the publication of The Wind in the Willows. A year later she was to marry the artist Maxwell Armfield, who himself was gay.

It seems very possible that Kenneth Grahame was gay, despite having a wife and child. This was a time when homosexual acts were still illegal. The novel can be read as having a gay subtext, and passages such as the description of the ancient Greek god of the wild, Pan, are quite sensuous, with descriptions of his “rippling muscles”. One academic, Professor Hunt, the emeritus professor in English and children’s literature at Cardiff University, suggests that the works were manifestations of a life which Kenneth Grahame longed for. Whether this is conscious or not, it is noticeably “a story of maleness and male companionship”, with hardly a female in sight. The only exceptions are the washerwoman, the barge woman and the jailer’s daughter. All of these are secondary characters, and perhaps even more significantly, they are human, not animal.

It is the animals in this story who are the well-nuanced, fully developed characters; the humans are merely stock types, who fill some of the minor roles. Yes, Badger is the wise teacher, mentor or parent figure, and one who is looked to for leadership, but he has his own quirky faults. His speech is described as “common”; he excitedly want to get his “grub” (food). And amusingly, both Rat and Mole end up very confused as Badger insists, “I want to learn ’em, not teach ’em!” when they are discussing teaching the stoats and weasels a lesson (chastening them).

Despite his success, and eligibility as husband material, Kenneth Grahame remained awkward in the company of the opposite sex. Only when he was 40 did he marry Elspeth Thomson, a woman who was devoted to him. Kenneth Grahame however, in a strange echo of James M. Barrie, remained distant, and incapable of demonstrating love. Elspeth grew increasingly miserable, taking to her bed for much of the day.

Their only child, Alastair, or “Mouse” was born a little prematurely, in 1900. He was blind in his right eye, and the other had a severe squint. Mouse was much loved by both parents, but it was probably the case that Kenneth Grahame was trying to relive his own childhood through his son, especially his thwarted academic aspirations, and he had absurdly high academic expectations of Alastair. “Mouse” had morbid fancies, and when he was three and a half, in an act chillingly prophetic of his own death, amused himself playing a game where he lay in front of speeding cars to bring them screeching to a halt. Another odd instance occurred when he was given his presents on his fourth birthday. Instead of enjoying playing with them, he started to repack them in complete silence.

This strange little boy was bullied at Rugby School, and again when transferring to Eton. He left the school, and was privately tutored in Surrey. Mouse was of a nervous disposition, and aware that he was not coming up to his father’s unrealistic expectations for him. His eyesight was worsening; he was fragile, and thoroughly miserable when he started as an undergraduate at Christ Church College, in 1918. He made no friends and joined no social clubs. He was to fail his Scripture, Greek and Latin exams three times within his first year; if he failed them again, he would be sent down (have to leave university).

It had all got too much for him. At his last dinner in Hall, he downed a glass of port, surprising the undergraduate sitting next to him. Alastair then set off across the meadows—the setting for all the stories his father had told him, which had entranced him so—and which were to become The Wind in the Willows. Across the meadows was the railway track.

With supreme irony, just as Peter Llewelyn Davis, the original for J.M. Barrie’s “Peter Pan” was to do many years later, Mouse threw himself under a train. He was just 19 years old.

When his decapitated body was found the next day, his pockets were crammed with religious books for his dreaded Scripture exam. He was buried in 1920, on his 20th birthday. His grave is hidden in a quiet corner of Oxford, in Holywell Cemetery, in the shadow of the medieval St. Cross Church. Located beside the River Thames, this is the gentle setting for Kenneth Grahame’s masterpiece. His father scattered lilies of the valley over the coffin. And 12 years later, his father too, a shattered genius who had now written The Wind In The Willows, was to be buried beside the doomed little boy who had inspired him. Perhaps after all, he had gained some catharsis through writing down the stories he had told his beloved little boy.

At the time of Alastair’s death, Kenneth Grahame was no longer the Secretary of the Bank of England. He left his post abruptly in 1908, following a reported dispute with a governor, Walter Cunliffe. Some academics view Walter Cunliffe as the template for Toad, in his bullyish and forceful nature, and it has been suggested that Walter Cunliffe knew of Grahame’s sexuality and bullied him about it, which led to his early retirement.

Kenneth Grahame and his wife (and son, Mouse) then moved to an old farmhouse, where father and son spent their time, “simply messing about in boats”. As we have seen, he used the bedtime stories he had told Alastair at this time, as a basis for the manuscript of The Wind in the Willows, where his characters do much of the same. But he was never to write anything else. For all his fame and fortune, Kenneth Grahame remained a tortured soul until his death in 1932, a broken-hearted man of 73.

Yet the legacy of this tragic life, is a delightfully whimsical tale which has entertained both children and adults for generations. We can recognise all the anthropomorphised animals so well from our own lives. It starts with Mole, an “Everyman” and hero of the story, a home-loving ordinary sort of chap. He is tempted to explore a little further than his own comfortable domesticity, when he meets Ratty, and is very impressed by his ideas. The water rat turns out to be a dashing free-spirited, imaginative and capable friend, and the two of them have many adventures. One involves meeting Badger, a venerable wise old soul, with his down to earth reasoning and help. He is a father figure or teacher to the others. Then of course there is Toad, who is wildly taken up by any new craze, and tempted by anything new. Toad is convinced that he can outwit everybody, and his ridiculous antics provide most of the humour in this book. He represents the spirit of abandonment and adventure that many of us might dream about, but are either too shy, or too practical and self-controlled to do.

Toad is impossibly vain and conceited, rather dim-witted, but when not devising new plot and tricks, he is very loyal. He has inherited a great house from his father, who knew full well what his impressionable and impulsive son was like, and asked Badger to look out for him, after he died. Toad is therefore immensely rich, but has a good heart essentially and is very generous to his friends, who spend much of their time getting him out off the scrapes he gets himself into. Children will love Mr. Toad, and secretly admire his devil-may-care attitude, and defiance of conventional rules and etiquette. His antics land him in jail, and lose him his home to vandals, in the form of weasels, stoats and ferrets, yet even this does not cool Toad’s delightfully wicked ways.

The purpose of children’s stories during this “golden era” of children’s literature, was largely didactic. Today its overt themes of appreciation for domesticity and manners may seem quaint and moralistic, yet in reality, most parents would want their children to follow these. Throughout the novel, Rat and Badger are praised for their hospitality, or and as in the case of Toad, criticised for their lack of it. Kenneth Grahame also shows children how to act towards others in certain situations, sometimes by speaking directly to the reader to comment on the importance of etiquette, from the smallest examples of table manners, or much larger concerns of honesty. Through both its plot and its writing style, The Wind in the Willows clearly shows the manners deemed proper in the Edwardian era.

Unlike the much more savage story of “Peter Pan”, Kenneth Grahame’s characters have to face the consequences of their actions. Both Mole and Toad make mistakes, and suffer for them. When Mole ignores the warning he has had, and ventures into the woods, he soon finds himself in a terrifying, dangerous situation. Only the aid of his friend and mentor, Rat, saves him. Toad is warned several times about his extravagant spending and reckless driving, and is eventually thrown in jail for ignoring those warnings. Ultimately he is forced by Badger to confront his behavioural problems.  The characters in this novel are realistically flawed, as we all are, but children are shown that the way to learn and grow is to face those consequences.

The exploits and escapades of Mr. Toad were such an appealing part of the book, that 2 decades later, when it was in its 31st printing, the author A.A. Milne adapted those chapters for the stage. The result was A.A. Milne’s 1929 play, “Toad of Toad Hall”. Almost a century later, it was yet again adapted for the stage, this time as a musical, by Julian Fellowes. This is a book which has never been out of print, has many adaptations, and never lost its appeal.

One reason for this is that it is not just a collection of moral tales, but also an exciting adventure. Kenneth Grahame’s characters love adventures. In common with Victorian and Edwardian gentlemen, those from this class do not work. Instead they go on visits, take boats out on the river, go for long picnics, and enjoy the open air and Nature. Both they and we therefore as a consequence appreciate the beauty of Nature through exploration. Toad takes his road trips, home-loving Mole explores the Wild Wood on his own, and even Rat, thoroughly settled in his riverbank home, is momentarily tempted to setting out for an ocean life, at the end of the season. Each of the main characters is subject to the lure of adventure.

Yet whilst each of them has an adventurous spirit, and enjoys their various escapades, they all enjoy the sense of having a place of their own to return to. Rat and Badger seem older, and are more set in their ways. They prefer to stay close to their homes, while Mole and Toad want to see as much of the world as they can. Nevertheless, Mole and Toad are also glad to have a home to go to, and which they view with great affection. The closing scenes of the novel reiterate the power of home, with their triumphant return to Toad Hall.

Interestingly, although they are not human, each character represents a certain stage of a human’s life. Badger is the oldest and hence commands the most respect. Rat acts as if he is slightly younger than Badger, (for example, he is more active around his home) but he still seems to be very sensible and quite mature. Mole behaves like a young man just trying to make his way in the world. Sometimes he is quite daring, but he also needs someone to guide him, as he tends to make foolish decisions. Toad’s behaviour, very obviously, is that of a spoiled, immature child.

At this time, young men would often find their place in the world through the mentorship of an older, more established gentleman. We see an example of this with Rat and Mole. They instantly like each other, which enables Rat to advise Mole in many areas, and help him towards maturity, turning him into a considerate and kind gentleman. The reader sees how successful Rat has been by the end of the story. Mole plays an essential role in the final adventure at Toad Hall, and is highly praised by Badger. Toad, on the other hand, is a more difficult case, so only Badger can fill that role of a mentor. It will take a while, but we do see signs that Toad will improve as well. It is clear that Kenneth Grahame had a strong belief in the power an older man had, as a guide to a younger one.

The novel is a series of episodes, in twelve chapters; each in a way complete in themselves, and each varying a lot in its style and pace. Some are adventure stories, full of camaraderie; some are humorous interludes, often with a little moral lesson. Some are thrilling, and full of excitement; some far more contemplative, and beautifully evocative of the English countryside. And two chapters in particular, chapter 5, “Dulce Domum” about an animal’s instinct for home, and chapter 7, “The Piper at the Gates of Dawn”, about the great god Pan, are mystical, and very strange. Aspects of and references to the novel are to be found in unlikely places; “The Piper at the Gates of Dawn”, is also the name of Pink Floyd’s first album in 1967.

Yet oddly, as a whole, it works, as countless enthusiastic readers have attested. Catchphrases such as “messing about in boats” and “poop, poop!” have found their way into English culture. There are many abridgements and rewritten forms of the novel, with appropriate language for very young children. When I approached my latest reread. I was certain that I would easily be able to select just one of the three versions that I have, to keep. Nevertheless, all three seem to have somehow found their way back on to my shelves.

The Wind in the Willows is quintessentially English, and moreover very Edwardian. As we have seen, it is very concerned with correct form, and good manners; with what is required to be an upright jolly good fellow. We recognise the English traits of pomposity and bluster, a certain reserve, a sense of decency, a “stiff upper lip” in the face of danger, a dry and understated sense of humour, a sense of the ridiculous and absurd, and an enjoyment of adventure. The whole is imbued with a love of Nature and the English countryside, with lyrical passages which are quite beautiful. The whole is a paean to the English countryside, and Kenneth Grahame repeatedly shows his views of the superiority of country life over city life.

The novel begins when Mole decides to leave his crowded home in order to live more in the country, and this idea continues to permeate through each episode. We see the author’s views in his portrayal of the destructiveness of the motor car. He continually criticizes the ugliness of industrial life; a city became the Wild Wood once the humans abandoned it. But his love for the pastoral life comes through most in his prose, which is rich in imagery about the beauty of nature.

“the rich meadow-grass seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous, the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading.”

The relaxing settings, rustic picnics and peaceful rambles along the riverside, all contrast with the hectic, crowded city. As its author said, it is a book for those “who keep the spirit of youth alive in them; of life, sunshine, running water, woodlands dusty roads, winter firesides”. Altogether it is a very endearing book, and one which can be read over and over again.

It is one of the great children’s classics, and a book which is full of a type of carefree happiness. How especially poignant and ironic, then, that the little boy who enabled its creation, found that such delight and happiness always eluded himself.

Todos temos um sapo nas nossas vidas.

For my review of the text of this wonderful book, please LINK HERE.

This review is for an excellent illustrated edition of the children’s classic novel, The Wind in the Willows. The text is complete, printed in a largish font in an oversize book, and the many beautiful illustrations are by the established fantasy artist, Michael Hague. The quality of his work has been compared with that of Arthur Rackham, and indeed I noticed a few nods and tributes to his talented forebear, even to the style of Michael Hague’s signature on the corner of one particularly sepia-toned watercolour, using a wide alphabetical style, inside a hand-drawn oblong frame. This is very reminiscent of Arthur Rackham’s trademark signature.

Michael Hague describes how the love of The Wind in the Willows had passed through four generations of his family, with his grandmother remembering with delight her own father reading the book to her, shortly after it had first been published in 1908. When Michael Hague himself was asked to illustrate the book, he felt this to be a great honour, following in the steps of Ernest H. Shepard and Arthur Rackham, but he was also conscious of a great sense of responsibility:

“I love the book. I love the dependable Water Rat, the kindly Mole, the sturdy Badger, and especially I love Mr. Toad … There is, I think, a bit of Toad in all of us. Certainly there must have been a bit of Mr Toad in me when I agreed to illustrate his book.”



Michael Hague makes it clear that he does not try to reinterpret the story, but instead:

“to infuse my illustrations with the same spirit that Kenneth Graham’s magic words convey … I begin with character studies and try to capture on paper what I see in my mind’s eye.”

His small thumbnail sketches of each character are then developed and enlarged to full sketches, before Michael Hague begins to draw the full scene. This way of working has produced illustrations which are full of life, immediacy and energy. The individual personalities seem exactly right, as if they have sprung straight out of the story. I personally much prefer these to Ernest H. Shepard’s sketchily drawn features on his characters in this book, which do not seem to have the quirkiness and life of those in the “Winnie the Pooh” books.



Michael Hague works in line and water colour, although, unusually, he draws in 2H pencil initially, so that the thin wash will not be smudged. Either an ochre or blue wash is then laid down, depending on whether he envisages a cool or a warm picture. The other colours are then applied, and the ink lines are the final stage.



The result is a vibrant yet naturalistic illustration of old-fashioned country life. The affectionately drawn characters are set within countryside which is imbued with the season and the time of day, and is heavily atmospheric. The trees are dark, knobbly, brooding - and a few have faces, especially in the night time scenes. The riverbank is fresh and verdant, with easily to identify familiar flora bursting forth.



Indoor scenes are bustling with cheerful people, full of good humour (and a few sly jokes, such as a pickpocket in action, on the edge of one railway scene!) They are carefully observed, showing authentic Edwardian dress, and accurate ancient buildings such as the gaol. Equally, the indoor scenes of Mole’s homes and Toad’s castle feel cosy and comfortable, or impressively ornate, complete with oil portraits of Toad’s illustrious ancestors. All are a delight to pause over, and enjoy the detail therein.


If you wish to choose just one illustrated version for a child to read, when they are old enough to enjoy the unabridged novel with its original language, this edition is definitely the one I would recommend.

2022:
Oh how I adore this book!
The friendship between the animals,
the alternately pompous/repentant Mr. Toad,
the way his friends rein him in,
the quotidian pleasures,
the messing around in boats,
the affinity with another childhood favorite, Winnie-the-Pooh,
all the things.
How I love this book!

As someone (somewhere) mentioned, it highlights both the pull of travel/adventure and the joy of home comforts.

2017:
Bravo Shelly Frasier for a superlative performance in narration!! This is a lifetime book that I've enjoyed many times since I first read it around age eight. After listening to the Close Reads podcast (an online book club, sort of) I realized it was time to listen again.

Like all wonderful children's books, it rewards repeated re-readings.

Narcissistic Toad and his multitude of false conversions is a character you can't help but love. Even at the very end, he takes delight in being the center of attention: not for his typical flamboyant bravado, but for his chaste, humble, demure attitude.

There was a shaky point in our marriage when Curt did not appreciate TWITW. Thankfully, time has done its work and he now acknowledges its genius. Laughing at/with Toady is so much better than scoffing. Don't be a stoat.

Seems everyone loves it,but me.Very tedious,very boring.Never came to life.

But the irony is that it won the Lewis Carroll Shelf Award.Well,it's no match for Alice in Wonderland.

Abandoned.

Cinco animais. Um deles um pouco estouvado. Resultou numa bonita história sobre amizade e entreajuda.

Sapito, Sapito.

"The world has held great Heroes, ...

As history-books have showed;
But never a name to go down to fame
Compared with that of Toad!"

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS, a turn-of-the century children's story written by Kenneth Grahame in 1908, has deservedly withstood the onslaught of time. On the surface, THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS is an allegory that tells the story of the adventures and misadventures of Toad, Rat, Badger and Mole in the rural English countryside. The pastoral narratives and witty dialogues are charming, evocative and warmly mellifluous without ever approaching doleful or lugubrious. I simply can't imagine the smile it would bring to a child's face were a parent to make the effort to read this as a bed-time story with four separate voices reserved for each of the main characters.

But, considered on a deeper level, THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS could be considered a metaphor for Toad's descent into self-destructive behaviour and his friends' loyal and loving intervention to rescue him from his love of fast motor cars, portrayed as an utterly consuming addiction. Love, loyalty, friendship, arrogance, courage, steadfastness and gratitude are among the emotions that Grahame has portrayed so accurately in a very simple but quite moving narrative.

As you might imagine, like most children's stories, THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS does end on an "all's well that ends well" note but Toad's behaviour in the future remains an obvious open question. Highly recommended ... what TOOK me so long to find this one?

Paul Weiss

n  n
Following the resounding success of my Locus Quest, I faced a dilemma: which reading list to follow it up with? Variety is the spice of life, so I’ve decided to diversify and pursue six different lists simultaneously. This book falls into my BEDTIME STORIES list.

I have a little boy and love reading to him, so this reading list will cover the classic (and new) children’s stories we’re enjoying together.

n  n    The Wind in the Willowsn  n is a funny old book, isn’t it?

The adventures of Ratty, Mole and the Toad; they didn’t make much of an impact on me during my childhood. I read the book, I liked it well enough, I remembered the characters, but that was about it – it was never a favourite.

I think I got a lot more out of it as an adult, reading it aloud in bitesize chunks to a drowsy baby, every night for a couple of months. It gave me time to ponder the book between readings. But I still think it’s a funny old book.

I mean, we start off focused on Mole as he ventures out from his underground home, befriends the Water Rat and discovers the gently joy of the riverside life in springtime. Ratty and Moley then potter about the countryside together, meeting the different folk who live thereabouts. The focus drifts over to Toad, who – I have to agree with my wife – is a bit of a tool. Toady has a big adventure on his own, and then teams up with Ratty and Mole (and the Badger, of course) for the final big showdown.

It’s all terribly episodic; it’s great for a bedtime story as most chapters reach their own conclusion, but the plot (such as it is) is all over the place and never really builds up much momentum until Toad goes off on his grand adventure. But somehow that doesn’t matter – the plot is not the important thing here.

What shines through on almost every page, in some beautifully evocative, vivid and sometimes poetic description, is a passionate and articulate adoration for the British countryside, nature and the changes of the seasons. I grew up in a green and leafy suburb and my favourite place to escape away to was a quiet little lake in the woods – so I can certainly appreciate the sentiment. But Grahame goes far above and beyond that; there’s no talk of religion in this book, but there is a god (small G) – Pan – and nature is the religion here.

Looking at n  n    The Wind in the Willowsn  n as a fantasy novel is somewhat confusing – the internal logic is more dreamy than scientific. These characters are animals... who walk upright, talk, dress and act like people. But they also keep animals who act like animals – Toad has a working carthorse and a pet canary, neither of which talk or wear clothes, etc. But they do live in a world dominated by humans, Toad steals a man’s car and gets sent to a human prison in a human city, guarded by humans. And humans keep animals as pets – the jailor’s daughter would like to keep Toad as a pet, but doesn’t tell him so because he’s too proud. And these talking animals of ours, eat the same food as humans – often processed food, made from animals – which is a confusing ethical dilemma.

Then there’s the issue of scale and size. To some degree, the characters reflect the sizes of the animals which are their namesakes –eg, Badger and Otter are larger than Mole and Ratty. But at other times, the scale is confusing – Toad rides a stolen horse comfortably, and escapes the city dressed as a washer woman – so he seems to be in-scale with humans, and he’s of a similar size to his friends, ergo they’re all human sized. But a human sized Rat living in a hole in the riverbank seems... grubby. Whereas a rat sized rat, wearing little human clothes, living in a hole in the riverbank is... romantic?

Sexism. Where are the women? Only two female characters appear in the whole book – and they’re both humans! Where are all the animal-women? We meet a wide array of talking creatures – mole, rat, toad, badger, otter, weasel, stoat, rabbit, hedgehog, mouse and bird – but all male. There’s mention of female family members, but they’re never seen. And there’s one particular scene (I didn’t note down when, I’m afraid) when the boys are sitting discussing the day’s events and dinner is bought to them. By whom, may I enquire? I get the feeling the women are all there, doing the women’s work, but invisible. It’s like a world of Oxford dons, wrapped up in their own little tweed worlds, boating on the river, while the common life drifts beneath their attention.

If you get the feeling I’m overly critical of this classic story – I’m not really (hence the four-star rating) – but as I said at the beginning, it’s just a funny old book!

If you find yourself reading it in the near future – try rolling some of the sentences around your mouth, rather than reading it all inside your head – there’s a real music and magic to the words. n  n    The Wind in the Willowsn  n made bedtime stories feel like a performance – one I greatly looked forward to!

After this I read: Komarr

My second reading of this did not disappoint. I never read it as a child, but the first time was many years ago, and I thought it was wonderful. It was equally good this time. I am usually a stickler for logic and some semblance of reality in my reading, but animals wearing clothes, toads that drive cars, rats that row boats, civilized animals using china and crystal and utensils; well, what can I say, I bought in. I was invited into the cozy burrows of Rat, Mole, and Badger, the opulent Toad Hall, went on adventures with all of them, and enjoyed every minute. This is a thoroughly satisfying read for those looking for a brief escape in the pages of a book.

The audio version of this timeless classic was very charming! This was actually my very first audio book and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I am not certain that this format will work for me with very many books, but it certainly proved to be quite entertaining here. Narrated by Alan Bennett, this version featured some of the voices from Alan Bennett’s stage adaptation at the National Theater in 1990. The music and sound effects really added to the experience for me and the various voices were so much fun!

I have not read The Wind in the Willows before, so the adventures of Ratty, Mole, Toad, Badger and company were all fresh and delightful. The dialogue brought a smile to my face and made the time pass by quickly on a couple of my solitary hikes through the fields adjacent to our property. As I walked alongside the woods, I could almost imagine my new little friends coming to life right beside me. An enjoyable story for children and adults alike!

This is a retelling of the children’s classic, The Wind in the Willows, by Michael Bishop. For my full review of Kenneth Grahame’s original masterpiece, please link here.

This book is an oversize hardback, amply and beautifully illustrated by Rene Cloke, a very prolific illustrator of children’s books, some of which she also wrote. These are line drawings with watercolour, and full of good humour. The characters are quite cute, as is her style, but also expressive, so that their emotions and personalities are revealed. They are all close-up - centre stage as it were - but there is enough of the Wild Wood, or of interiors, to convey a sense of place.

The text is large and easy to read, roughly suitable for those between 6 and 8 or 9, although those older may well enjoy it too. (I did!) I read this book in parallel with Kenneth Grahame’s original. Although the prose cannot compare in any way, this is a good adaptation for a very young reader. It tells the story, covering all the events very briefly. It is in eleven short chapters, and the only chapter missed out is the more esoteric, mystical one.

I would recommend this as an excellent first introduction to the story for young children.