Hey everybody, thanks for sticking around with the club and continuing on to our next poll selection, Richard Adams' rabbit adventure entitled Watership Down. It's been quite a few years since I'd last gotten to read this one, and I'm positive I didn't appreciate it for it was at the time. So for all you guys who voted for this novel this month, thank you for letting me revisiting this one and firmly establish why this novel has been loved for a few decades now. Watership Down was a more thrilling and ultimately violent interpretation of the lives of rabbits than I expected, yet it was often layered in a lot of sense. It worked well within its natural limitations to present a believable narrative despite being far fetched. It was charming and exciting, and I'm happy to have revisited it for a fresh imprint in my mind. As for the questions of the month...(and feel free to discuss elements of your own as well) Literary: 1). Richard Adams famously denied the common allegorical attributions to the story, placing Hazel oftentimes as Jesus Christ, or General Woundwort as Stalin in the allegory of communism. His daughters revealed that he outright called out that rubbish and that it was a story about rabbits. But as I read, I picked up on a lot of the allegory business as well, especially that of communism in Efrafra. Did you see this sort of allegorical view? If so, what did you see? If not, what do you think would lead such a huge following of readers to believe that so? 2). Continuing on with the though of the "story about rabbits," what do you think this story was really about? The plot had a number of natural endings, often feeling like a collection of short stories or trials until the latter half of the novel. Did you get a sense of a number of over-arching themes throughout? Did the allegorical feel sway your interpretation of the themes you gleaned from the text? 3). Stories are a critical part of Adam's novels, spoken to the point of a sort of religious following. Yet these stories seemed to be possibly true. There was a sort of magical aspect behind the novel as a whole and it came through these points in the narrative. As a plot device though, they may have been distracting to some, and confusing or unbelievable at others. Did these stories told by Dandelion add to the overall narrative as a plot, or did they draw too hard and feel unnecessary? Was Fiver's second-sight a factor in these stories, maybe as a possible connection to their life beyond the natural world? Did this enhance the plot overall? Critical Analysis: 1). This time I'll start with how I felt about one element: Characterization. Personally, the use of character in this novel felt like Adam's main strength. Every character was identifiable through their actions and their speech, and they often dynamically grew as the text advanced. But for me, one character actually seemed to suffer a few problems, which was Hazel. I found Hazel too often to be a leader I couldn't entirely understand why others followed. It led to some problems for me during the read in believing his authority. The rabbits themselves seemed very authoritarian, yet Hazel didn't bring terribly much physically or mentally to the fold, in my opinion. Was there something I missed, or did others of you feel the same? Where did Hazel seem to lose traction as a character in the shadow of giants like Bigwig or seers like Fiver? Did he lose traction at all to you? 2). Adam's begins every chapter with a quote or two from an older text, quote, or song. What do these quotes do for the chapters? Do they encapsulate the point, advance the narrative, summarize what will happen? Or are they an unnecessary addition that distracts the reader? Why do you think Adam's found these quotes to be necessary? 3). The conversations in the novel with anything other than a rabbit are spoken in dialect, mostly a sort of "hedgerow speech." The rabbits never spoke the language of any other animal, and the humans were also included in this sort of dialect writing. Did this feel more natural in a way to devise a method for the animals to communicate with one another? Did this add to a possible allegory of its own, as the rabbits themselves were quite speciesist except for Hazel, which was his ultimate saving grace. Did Adam's dialectical speech in other animals try to tell us something, or did it just feel like an odd experiment? 4). Lastly, a more general question. What critical writing elements did you see best utilized by Adams in the novel? This is to include elements such as character, theme, tone, dialogue, setting, description, figurative language, etc... Thanks again everyone for joining in with this literary study with me. I appreciate the discussions on the topics, and look forward to hearing your responses as always!
I wrote this below before reading EF's analysis above ...and I have lots lots more to say about this unique book, which I truly loved, once I got started. In fact it made a very deep impression on me. To the extent that I actually bought a piece of artwork that I was attracted to, because of this book. I want to address the points EF made earlier, in his excellent list of story element topics. POV, Description, Setting, Characterisation, Tone, Dialogue, Summary and Scene. I'll give my thoughts on those in another post. My preliminary thoughts, written just after I'd finished the book a couple of weeks ago.... Discussion about Watership Down It came to me, as I was thinking about what to say about the book, that I tend to focus on mistakes rather than the good aspects of a story. This doesn’t mean I’m negative or looking for trouble. It’s more like being a passenger in a car. You’re only likely to notice the driving habits of the driver if they’re a bit off. If they’re smooth and effective, you’ll just sit back and enjoy the ride, and you won’t think about the ‘driving’ at all. It’s the same with a book. I only notice glitches, because they take me out of the story—which I am otherwise enjoying. (To put it mildly: I LOVED Watership Down—after it finally got going. Which, admittedly, did take a while.) I tried to read Watership Down soon after it first came out. It wasn’t a ‘classic’ or anything of the sort at the time. It was just a new novel. I had no idea what it was about, other than rabbits were the main characters. This in itself didn’t put me off, as I grew up reading Thornton W Burgess’s animal stories, and always loved stories like Black Beauty, Call of the Wild, White Fang, Yellow Eyes, and other novels told from the POV of animal protagonists. So I settled in, and got started. And gave up after a few chapters. It was interesting to discover that my husband did the same. (He’s Scottish, I’m an ex-American.) He'd also read the first few chapters years ago, and lost interest. When I told him I was reading Watership Down for my book club this month, he just rolled his eyes heavenward. I’m more mature now, and more used to reading stuff I don’t really engage with, at least at first. So I gritted my teeth this time, and started again. And got bogged down again. This time, however, I persevered. I did begin to wonder (again) when the actual story was going to start. There was a lot of preliminary faff and swithering …in fact the rabbits didn’t actually leave their home till Chapter Four …which meant three chapters of rabbity hemming and hawing. Okay, fair enough. Rabbits are easily spooked creatures, and do seem to dither a lot. (Kind of like us, when it comes to change.) We get that. Okay…now we’re finally on our way. Except even then, the story dragged. The group encountered dangers and troubles from the outset, but nothing you wouldn’t expect. I began to wonder if they were just going to run the gamut of rabbity-dangers—foxes, badgers, birds of prey, bodies of water, roads, disease, injuries, traps, men with guns, packs of hounds, food scarcity, bad weather etc—until they eventually found a new home, in Disney fashion. Tra la. Ho hum. Okaaayyy…. And then—Chapter Twelve— I actually sat up straighter, and went, ‘Oh HO. What’s THIS?’ ’This’ was the enigmatic and totally unexpected appearance of Cowslip. That’s where the story grabbed me. There was just something so WRONG about that rabbit and all the unearned ease and comfort he seemed to be offering our tired travelers. His manner was not unwelcoming, but he didn’t go out of his way to be welcoming either. He was just so contained, so carefully ’neutral.’ WTF is he hiding? Something that seems too good to be true, usually is. I was glued from that point on. The story not only didn’t let go this time, but I could hardly put it down, and actually stayed up all night to finish it on the final day. I had no idea before the end of the first 12 chapters that the story was going to be so gripping and so genuinely terrifying. Which brings me to the one storytelling element I think @EFMingo left off his excellent discussion list. One that should be there. Pacing. It’s incredibly important to get pacing right, and there is no formula for it. It really is trial and error, every time. Pacing is managing reader expectation—knowing when to relieve pressure and give us a rest with some lighthearted tangent, and when to keep the pressure on, booting us along with no letup at all. The slow, amorphous start to Watership Down was a pacing error that actually made me (and my husband) abandon the book first time through, as I explained above. I thought Adams got the pacing badly wrong in one other place as well—near the end, after the escape from Colonel Woundwort and his crew. Adams has got us by the throat at that point. We've just barely escaped with our lives from that horrific Efrafra. We readers know that Campion and his patrols have tracked Hazel and Co near to the general location of their warren, and is returning to Efrafra to tell Colonel Woundwort what he's discovered. We realise, to our horror, that Hazel's warren is no longer safe, and the shit is soon to hit the fan for good …and what does Adams do? He stops all the action, to tell us a VERY long, rather cutesy mythological story about Rowsby Woof and the Fairy Dogwog! At that point in my reading, I just went “NO.” And totally skipped over that chapter. After the book was done, I went back to read the chapter I'd skipped. I loved Rowsby Woof and the Fairy Wogdog, and actually think it was the best of Dandelion’s folktales. But plopping it right at the point of very high tension? A major pacing mistake. In fact, it would have been a fantastic closing chapter, which is actually the way I read it. Once the rabbits really were safe. Maybe put in before the coda at the end, where we find out how the rabbits thrived in later life. The story of the dog coming to the rescue was significant, once we thought about it. However, where Adams placed the myth was one sidetrack too many for me, AND it actually would have given the game away, if I had stopped to read it at the time. Skipping it meant I didn't forsee the actual dog rescue, which turned out to be a cathartic climax for me. That catharsis would have been ruined, if I'd read the Woofy Dogwog story beforehand. I'd have been expecting it. Perhaps the rabbits themselves were ready to hear an uplifting story from their mythology at that point where Adams put the DogWog story, because they THOUGHT they were safe, had made it home in more or less one piece, and were experiencing relief. But we readers know they’re far far from safe at this point. We readers don't want to hear a distracting tale. Our rabbits' ultimate survival is in grave doubt at that point. We definitely aren't sharing their sense of relief. We're on the edge of our seats. We don't want to stop and hear about Woofy Dogwog. Shut UP, Dandelion! We want our rabbits to realise their extreme danger and start preparing to meet it—now. Anyway, so much for Pacing. It's the one thing I thought Adams got wrong in a couple of places—and it actually made me stop reading the book the first time. I'll get on to the next bits later.
Love the art. Reminds me of my grandfather's artwork before he died, which I have hanging up in my house. I felt this distinct tonal change as well. Cowslip's warren was one of my main sections I love from this novel. The story sort of slipped into a bit of a folk horror at that point and presented a believably horrid case for that location. It added a whole new horror to the idea of farming for meat and gave a method in which the farmed animals could mentally endure their existence. Wildly dark stuff, which I felt st the stage for the rest of the novel. It was also the high-time of Fiver's visions, which I felt were an important element of the story that started to get drowned out. Ah yes, I always forget that one. And yes, I certainly felt its drawbacks here and there. Not as bad as say Moby Dick, which was absolutely horrendous in its whaling side tracks, but it had its moments of fluff. I think pacing is the reason a lot of decent novels get passed over after the first few chapters. I didn't have that much of a problem with this one though. I think the pacing was held through Fiver in the beginning as it set its narrative trail, but then I found more fault just after they escaped Efrafra. There was a few chapter lull where Adams cleared stuff up, but it felt a lot like confused floating around and a major stunt before the ending. Like a breath to pause that went on too long. The final story in the series, which you mentioned is problematic especially in pacing, but I'm going to be the Devil's advocate and try to give reason to it. I believe Adams had to place it, or break a pacing behind the scenes of the story. The religion of the rabbits is a huge part o the narrative and the world Adams created, and I felt that every one of these side-steps into the folklore of the rabbits was a step into the guiding hand of who was really pulling the strings. Most of the stories center around El-Ahrairah and the thousand enemies created by Frith. At regular intervals, the stories told mostly from Dandelion come as both a history lesson and a guiding path through which the story will go. Often the stories of Hazel and the Watership warren's rabbits feel like modern reiterations of the events which happened to El-Ahrairah in the past. It feels as if they are tests from a higher power to Hazel, making him prove himself in resolve along the way for his rabbits, and guiding of helping him when needed. The end sort of confirms this when Hazel is invited to join the owlsa of what I assume is El-Ahrairah in the afterlife in legend. Therefore stories will be told of his sacrifice and honor in the future generations of rabbits. The tale of the black rabbit I find most important with this reference. With that in mind, I think Adams almost had to sacrifice a bit of pacing to show us the new player in the game with the dog, and how it would apply to the retold stories of El-Ahrairah through Hazel. It plays into the part of which folk-telling holds in the mind of rabbits.
Yeah, I agree with all of that, and I can see why he did it. And it did follow the pattern of the storytelling that went before, with the stories being something of a precursor to what was going to happen to 'our' rabbits. However, its placement had the effect of making me go 'oh NO, not NOW!' and skip it—actually rather quickly—because it so interfered with the buildup of tension. Again, I think it worked fine for me, reading it later ...after the warren was secured. In fact, I could envision Dandilion telling it as a religious 'explanation' of what happened. This is why pacing is SO difficult to pull off, sometimes. It really is. And yet it has a huge effect on how a reader experiences the story. I'm sure we've all read books where we either skip or are tempted to skip parts. Not because they are boring or badly written, but simply because they interfere with the flow of the story. These are places that probably could use some tweaking. I know when I have conversations with my beta readers, I always ask them to point out ANY areas where they were tempted to skip. I've learned a lot about pacing that way. It's still not easy to correct, though, if the part the reader is skipping is important, or needs to be kept 'there.' And yet, if they don't read it....aaargh
I wanted to read it, and I tried. I guess it wasn't to be though. I downloaded it from (was it Gutenberg, or Archive? Don't recall) but I got a blank file. Threw it away, downloaded again, and this time it worked. I read a bit, bookmarked it, and when I went to open it the next day it had gone blank. No idea what happened, if it was my computer, or I got a corrupted file or what. But after that I gave up. One day I will read it. I probably would have persevered and found a more reliable download or solved the problem somehow, if it grabbed me in the beginning. It really didn't.
I think I left one at the bottom of the July book club post when I announced the winner. If you would like
The link? That 's the one I used, but your link went to the online version. I switched over and got a downloadable one instead. I doubtless could have read it if I had just used your link. Is there a smily for *banging head on brick wall*?
It's alright man, you put in heroic effort on the first book of the book club, which struggled with...you're certainly free to miss a few haha.
I find it hilarious that you say this, because now I'm in the middle of a commentary book from 1922, and it praises Herman Melville up and down as pretty much the best American novelist to that point in time. In any case, I love Watership Down. Kind of obsessed, really. The pacing doesn't really bother me, mostly because there's so much good characterization going on, and the first third is important for establishing Fiver and setting up Bigwig's arc. At first, Bigwig is an impudent owsla officer with his own notions of what must be done, and Hazel has to manage him to make sure he's not going to be controlling. Bigwig by accident is an early antagonist, and by the end, he's a hero on whom the whole warren depended. So no, pacing didn't bother me, except for a few overly long descriptions of scenery here or there, and I didn't care for the Fairy Wogdog story. As far as allegory goes, not really. While Adams is clearly influenced by the time and place he comes from, allegory is there to represent other things. Influence is just people writing what they know. This gives the book a folklore feel, like it's establishing its own culture for the rabbits. After all, we know our own culture, and what's particularly fascinating about rabbits being theists is that it's easy for a human to believe in God, when we're at the top of the food chain. How does an animal do so? Well, Adams explains it. So the book isn't a Christian allegory, it's the explanation of rabbit religion itself. And culture, as well. If the story is about anything, it's about rabbit life and what makes a rabbit "a good rabbit." I especially loved Bigwig's line, "I hate straight lines. Men make them." Strawberry pointing out that animals "have dignity and animality" is also very good, because it points out the sort of bigotries an animal would have. It all makes sense for a story told through the eyes of a creature not at all like us. While Hazel was weak in the sense that he wasn't as strong as Bigwig, as perceiving as Fiver, as fast as Dandelion, etc, where his strength lies is in managing everybody else's talents. Leadership itself is a talent, and one that isn't always obvious. Actually I think it might have been a point of the story. When Woundwort showed up at the warren at the end, he was doing so as Chief Rabbit, using his strength and daring to control his people. Hazel, on the other hand, was a thoughtful, and at that point lame little rabbit who wasn't terribly imposing. This is the climax of a theme where strength must be tempered by intelligence and the ability to look past one's emotions for the greater good. Which Hazel was generally able to do. Not so much Woundwort.
I feel I need to read the book over again, to look at it with a dispassionate eye. I got caught up in the story (or not) the first time, and didn't stop to analyse the writing. So I've started again, and have got as far as Chapter 19, and the first story about El-Airairah. Have to say, some of the rabbit language gives me the gyp, when it's not immediately pronounceable. I keep calling the Trickster story rabbit 'RahRah' inside my head, as I read about him. I'm sure, with practice, I'd get the name right—but I don't want to practice. Most of the rabbits have names that make perfect sense and are totally pronounceable ...Hazel, Pipkin, Fiver, Bigwig, Cowslip, Blackberry, Woundwort, Campion ...and even the black-headed gull named Kehaar, which certainly mimics the cry of a gull. But then Adams throws in names like Thethuthinnang and Hyzenthlay ...why? Wabbits that listhp? I don't think it adds much to the story. Like the tedious glimmering/shimmering Elven poetry in Tolkien's books, I'm willing to overlook it. But I do find it a distraction. Anyway, I was surprised to find that the first chapters didn't drag for me during this latest reading—now that I've finished the whole book and am starting over. They certainly did drag, the first two times I started reading the book before. (And did for my husband, and it looks like it did for @Xoic as well. "I probably would have persevered and found a more reliable download or solved the problem somehow, if it grabbed me in the beginning. It really didn't.") I've been trying to figure out why. First of all, I now know the characters, and I'm no longer trying to figure out what the story is about. And when Fiver starts making predictions, like he does at the start of Chapter Two (The Chief Rabbit) I now know these predictions make perfect sense. "We were sitting on water...and I realised we were on a board ....other rabbits there ....tried to drag you out of a hole in the bank ...The Chief Rabbit must go alone ...and you floated away down a dark tunnel of water...." I now know what he's referring to, of course, and am impressed by the clarity of his forerunner vision. But the first two times I read this? It was just incoherent babble. It wasn't any more interesting than the dreaded 'start your story with a mysterious dream' ploy, which seems so attractive to new writers. His babbling was just confusing and made no sense at the time. In other words, I was still waiting for the story to begin. Once I knew what the danger actually is, that Fiver has forseen (when I read the property developer's sign) my tension took a nose dive as well. The danger was real enough....but I also knew our little band of rabbits had escaped it. I didn't have much in the way of sympathy for the rabbits left behind. They were warned, they had their chance, and didn't take it. That's life. So now it's just a quest for the escapees to find a new home? I can see why, the first two times I started reading this, I didn't feel much engagement with the story at this point. My respect for Fiver did go up a bit, though, and I was beginning to see his value to the group. As far as Hazel being a good leader? He is showing every sign of it already. The weak rabbits trust him. The strong rabbits respect him. When they're in the ditch, waiting for more rabbits to join the escape party, Hazel thinks: "Wherever we settle down in the end, I'm determined to see that Pipkin and Fiver aren't sat on and cuffed around till they're ready to run any risk to get away. But is Bigwig going to see it like that?" That's leadership. Thinking things through from both sides, and feeling responsible for everybody, not just a favoured few. He also exhibits a flair for diplomacy, when he and Fiver visit the Chief Rabbit in his old warren, and when he deals with Cowslip and the other rabbits in the strange warren. And just when you're thinking Hazel might be too cerebral to actually fight or confront opposition, we get this. Holly and Bigwig have just had a scuffle, as Holly is attempting to prevent the rabbits from leaving: Yes, Hazel is a leader, all right. He's not a warrior, but warriors don't always make the best leaders (as we see later on, in Colonel Woundwort.) Warriors are essential in battle and good at preparing for battle and anticipating the possibility of a battle ...but they sometimes lose sight of the fact that battles are NOT the normal state people (sorry, rabbits ) strive for in their lives. A good leader knows when to fight, and when to focus on other things. I think Bigwig learns to do this as well, eventually ...and Bigwig is certainly a good guy, and one whom we grow to love. But even he recognises Hazel as his leader at this point. Hazel doesn't lack courage; he's just not aggressive. But he can certainly fight when he has to. And he is always thinking of ways to make his world better, not just to 'win.' Hazel has his own doubts about his ability to lead, which surface every so often. But Impostor Syndrome is fairly common among good leaders. I know our own Nicola Sturgeon has admitted to this in herself ...but she is a really good leader whom the people of Scotland trust. Impostor Syndrome makes a leader aware he doesn't know it all. A bad leader spends all his time trying to hide or deflect his own weakness. A good leader utilises the help of others in areas where he, himself, knows he's weak. He displays a minimal ego, although he's no pushover and will stand his ground if he needs to, and will take a decision when the time comes to make one. He's good at recognising weaknesses and strengths within his 'team' and putting their strengths to the best use. And because of all this, his followers trust him to lead. Hazel does all of the above.
I think you're spot-on with this observation: "Leadership itself is a talent, and one that isn't always obvious." I'm re-reading the second time (this month) and have been struck by the aspects of 'leadership' that get dealt with, even so far. Just finished the part where our rabbits have left Cowslip's warren, and the observation was made that those rabbits didn't have any leader looking after them ...and consequently didn't seem capable of looking after themselves very well. Interesting. I missed that the first time round.
Yeah, I missed that the first time around too. At first I wondered why Hazel was the leader, and then the second time it seemed so obvious.
Well, there is a little bit of merit to that. I've read a couple of his works and I will have to say that Bartleby the Scrivener is a pretty great work, but in typical fashion of the time and the author, it is rather slow. But still, I liked it. And there are a number of things in Moby Dick that are exceptional. Action like hadn't been done much before. But the over-explanatory history lessons got old extremely quickly. Your last sentence here I feel is very important, especially in regards to setting. Adams' spent an exceptionally large amount of time describing the setting and scenery, but I felt that he meant for it to be what the rabbits mostly centered their world around. Less introspection and more on dealing with their present surroundings. The rabbits entirely depended on the setting and the setting itself gave reason for their movements or actions. Do you think the setting language could be condensed though? I could see maybe in a few places, but much of it seems integral to understanding the rabbits and their world. I feel this as well. If I remember right, this is an early seventies book, which would mean it was steeped in the era of Christianity being more dominant and the end of the McCarthyism "red scare." People are more apt to search for an allegory to fit the bill as a commentary of their own time. I love the folklore here, and as I said, I believe the folklore in the story is real to Adams' dimension and pulls the strings. I do and I don't agree with you. The main reason is Bigwig. I understand, he's the general portrayal of the loose cannon, strong and not particularly smart but honorable. But the transformation he goes through builds him into by far and away the hero of the story that outshines Hazel in many ways. I felt most of Hazel was either riding off of Blackberry or Fiver or Bigwig, or sometimes even being given a bit of divine inspiration from El-Ahrairah himself. Don't get me wrong, he had his true leadership moments, but when Bigwig started to turn around and become a true leader I was positive that Hazel would transfer his position. I think my largest reason for this was Blackaver. Bigwig could see the rabbit that was going to die from exhaustion and shame, and took the personal risks and got him out. Bigwig started being able to improvise and come up with his own things. And also in the physical sense, he was large and imposing. All the females followed him specifically as their leader after the escape and wouldn't listen to another. He also tamed the gull Kehaar. By the end as well, he was done being the fighter and scrapper, and ready to take on a stronger leadership role as a father and caretaker. I will say he learned a lot from Hazel, and Hazel was of course the initial good leader, but I think the writing at least had me rooting for his dynamic growth into a great leader far more than the dependence of Hazel's authority. I think what most put me off with Hazel was when he made the grandeur statement that they were going to steal females from Efrafra, but then told Blackberry that he was going to come up with the plan. I've seen leaders like that in real life, and I have to say they don't remain leaders for very long. I think this has more to do with the construction of the Rabbit language that is not of English origin. We understand the environmental names easy enough, but I see the rabbit names being constructed kind of like German words in a vernacular sense, where the words are stacked. Each part is in reference to something specific to their lives or a more descriptive variation on food and environment. I kind of see it like the inuits see snow. They have something like forty-two words for different types of snow. I feel the environment and history of the rabbit culture emphasizes certain aspects more by importance, therefore having new words, and those words are sometimes used in names. I guess I've just read or seen these seer characters too much as this prophesying actually drew me in more than drove me away. I knew right from the start that the prophesy would actually be used and was excited to see how and where it would play out.
I would love to continue this conversation, if it were on topic and I had actually read any Melville, lol. It was funny in the commentary because the author of it kept saying that Melville was "obscure", while all these authors I'd never heard of were ridiculously popular. Contemporary literary opinions are fun. I was making a very mild complaint. There's only a couple of areas in this book where Adams goes what I'd consider too long, and then not by much. Generally, yeah, he's fine. In Plague Dogs, however....yeesh. It's like he's got to write a biography for every hill in Scotland. I disagree. For one thing, I would say Bigwig rather proves my point as opposed to disproving it. Hazel's tempering nature (as well as Fiver's) was what enabled Bigwig to learn to slow down and think, rather than just use his strength to get what he wants. Not to mention that Bigwig isn't so much of a leader as he is a person with daring. He's the sort of person who attracts attention, but isn't necessarily the best one for making plans or deciding what to do when there's no immediate pressure on. Bigwig knows what to do in Efrafa because he was an owsla member and knows how to communicate his physical strength. Any planning he did depended on Kehaar and Blackberry's boat idea. All Bigwig had to decide was who to tell and when to run. Likewise, at the fight at the end, Bigwig does his part, but is really only able to come up with rather conventional bunny strategy, and his power is in his muscles rather than his mind. Bigwig is a hero, but not so much a leader. As for Blackberry, Hazel was using his leadership properly. Blackberry is the most clever rabbit, and by allowing Blackberry to use his mind to figure things out, Hazel was being humble and proper. As proved by the rescue of the hutch rabbits, Hazel is capable of making plans. He's not merely handing it off because he wants to, but because of the fact that Efrafa's system means they have to be extra clever. Besides, while Blackberry comes up with the plan, Hazel is still leading and guiding the rabbits, and he and Blackberry consulted before the expedition took place. He didn't put full responsibility into Blackberry's paws, just used a personal resource appropriately.
I procrastinated really bad this month and ended up not being able to pick up the book from my library. Seems y'all are having fun with Watership Down though! I'll try and do better so I can jump back in next month.
@EFMingo - You might well be right about the shift in leadership. I'm about halfway through reading it again, and I am picking up lots I missed the first time. I'll keep in mind what you said. Bigwig certainly evolved during the book, and maybe he did evolve into being a leader as well. But I don't think he was quite there at the beginning, though.
As for the language thing, I didn't mind the language, just the unpronounceability of a few of those names. In fact I loved the words for concepts we don't really have a word for in English. We talk jokingly about 'a rabbit caught in the headlamps/headlights' but there is actually a rabbit word for it: tharn. My very favourite of their words is the word for motor vehicle: hrududu. I mean, it's a perfect mimicry of the putt-putt sound these old fashioned motors make. Reminds me of trying to start our old-fashioned cars, back in the days of car keys, on a freezing winter's morning in northern Michigan: click hrududu click-hrudududu click-hrudududududu click-hrududu-dudu...cough cough ....rrrummmble....
Hrududu had me laughing every time. I loved it. I'm building a response to Grace, I'm just busy so give me a bit haha.
Sorry I’m a bit late to the party. I didn’t answer some of the questions, so I hope that’s alright. I don’t know how much I have to add, but here goes: I didn’t see any evidence of intended allegory beyond what is inherent in a story about anthropomorphized rabbits. I mean, anyone can draw parallels, since it’s a story with universal themes (I guess there’s an element of allegory in this), but I don’t see anything beyond that. There were no specific things that suggested allegory. And I’m inclined to take the author at his word on this; going over something with a fine-tooth comb can turn up “parallels” and “analogies” that the author never intended. But people do love to make the analogies all the same. I’m personally content to view the book as a story about rabbits and really nothing more; I don’t think it has to be anything more for me to enjoy it. As for Dandelion’s stories, they were my favorite part of the whole book. I didn’t even care if they tied in with the plot, even though I think they mostly did; they were just so charming. Adams really nailed the trickster folk story vibe with them. Another thing I loved about the book was the epigraphs. I was impressed with how perfectly they encapsulated the following chapter. Adams must have been well-read. The thing that I appreciated the most about Adam’s writing was how he used landscape and description. It was never overbearing, and very tastefully done I think. It really set the tone of the novel, especially since a lot of the main obstacles that the rabbits face are natural. The author did a good job of describing the rabbits’ world. I might have gotten more out of it if I’d had a better knowledge of English plants, though. Another thing I loved was his choice of POV. I think he struck the perfect balance with the omniscient perspective. There was definitely an awareness that a human was writing the book, but the touch was pretty light. I think a more immediate POV would have resulted in the rabbits becoming either unbelievable or too alien.
I hear what you're saying about the plants. It's one of the things that bothered me the first time I tried to read it, back in the States, in the late 70s. I'm definitely a plant lover and a layman wildflower identifier ...but so many of these plants were simply not familiar to me. However, I've enjoyed them a lot more now that I've lived here for more than 30 years, and know what most of them are. I still think he went a WEE bit too heavy on plants, though ...at least in places. Plants would be really important to rabbits, and they did mark the passing of the season as well. But something about a lot of the plant description didn't really catch me. Too many were just offered as lists, without anything characteristic about them other than the colour—ie this was blooming and that was blooming too, and over there was a patch of something else. When he did mention some other characteristic, it made the plant much more interesting. I did think plants helped me to understand the type of terrain better. Some plants grow in boggy ground, some in stony ground, some in forested places, etc. I think it was a really interesting way to denote the changes in terrain, but the lists could have been dialed down a bit. Again, though, like the hard-to-pronounce rabbit names, I am happy to overlook that particular 'flaw' when it occurs. The rest of the story is so damn good! And it IS a clever way to get us to notice when the terrain changes, and to keep in mind that rabbits and plants do need to be compatible. Adams apparently said, in an interview, that his story was influenced by his love of nature, his desire to entertain his children, and his experiences during the war. Whether he intended our analysis to put all that together, nobody knows for sure. However, it's not really believable that he didn't mean SOMETHING beyond just a child's tale about rabbits in nature. All those quotes at the start of each chapter ...he obviously aimed those at adults. I suspect he meant us to think beyond the rabbit story. I think it's important to get out of it what we do (or don't.) It gave me a lot to think about ...mainly about leadership, and how societies are organised, and the way things can go wrong with these organisations as well as how to get them right. But whether Adams intended these things to be discussed or even recognised ...who knows? To me, it doesn't matter. This story will keep me thinking for a long time, regardless.
Dandelions stories were actually a highlight to me as well, but mostly because as I started realizing how they correspond with the current state of the rabbits at their time, I understood there was a larger force at work within the story behind the scenes. This drew my interest ten-fold. The epigraphs though, I wasn't as much a fan of most of the time. I think it was that very nature to encapsulate the chapter that put me off a lot of the time. When the proceedings were somewhat known, I felt they were welcome, as in when the crew was running or clearly going to war. But it lost out I think when the reader was in an unknown fog of the generals of how the narrative would proceed. I felt they almost gave it away too much, so I mostly stopped reading them. I agree with you though that Adams was clearly well read. There were more than a few specific lines for him to dig up, and this being before the information age. Impressive in that respect. I liked this as well because I could see, hear, smell, and feel like I was with them. I thought he presented the environment as smooth as warm butter and I didn't mind the over-description of things important to the rabbits. That made the story feel as if it was told from the rabbit's perspective even more. This is an interesting comment. I don't think the perspective was omniscient, but I would say multiple third-person limited. Reason being that it would follow mostly a single rabbit through the scenes and limit the mental and physical view to that rabbit's (or in one chapter human's) perspective. But I will admit it sometimes became unclear if he was shifting mid-chapter. What comment here that I find the most interesting is that you think a human wrote this book. What exactly dreww you to that conclusion? Personally, I took the story to be a retelling through Dandelion as the legend of Watership Down and its creation, possibly handed down generations. I think that may give good reason why the human speech is in dialect while the rabbits are not. And I entirely agree with that last point. It did list a little, but I think I was more forgiving because that would be the subtle environmental differences and interests to the rabbits, being that their life depended upon a full understanding of the flora with the change of the seasons. But from a reader POV, yeah, it does list here and there. So do I. I don't entirely buy his argument for children. The book is quite violent and honest in the cruelty of nature. It also seems to comment deeper on many subjects. We'll likely never know though.
Adams actually talks about things like Marco Polo's expedition to China, Odysseus, Calypso and Penelope, Noah and the Ark, etc. (Which rabbits wouldn't have known anything about.) He does long passages from a human narrator's POV, such as the start of Chapter 22..."Rabbits (says Mr Lockley) are like human beings in many ways. One of these is certainly their staunch ability to withstand disaster and to let the stream of their life carry them along, past reaches of terror and loss." Etc. (This entire page of comparing rabbit reaction to human ones ends with the Odysseus reference.) However, this kind of device is quite common (or was, in my day) of telling children a story. There is a lot of 'of course we know, but THEY don't' sort of stuff going on, where the narrator comes out of the story as 'himself,' to explain something to the child. So this didn't jar with me as much as it might have done. But I also agree, this was a pretty violent and scary story for children, which is why Adams apparently had a difficult time finding a publisher for it. I need to get back to the re-reading. I didn't get to do much reading yesterday. I'm in the middle of Chapter 23, with Kehaar....
I’m very late, and very sorry for that. Nevertheless, I’ve enjoyed reading the ongoing discussion and can only agree with a lot of things that have already been said. Here are a few thoughts I would like to ad: 1. About Leadership / Role of the Leader Adams shows various forms of leadership during the story. First there is Threarah, who leads his warren in a kind of no nonsense and a slightly stoic way (He had won his position not only by strength in his prime, but also by level-headedness and a certain self-contained detachment,..). He agrees to meet Hazel and Fiver but seems slightly distracted during the meeting (I think Hazel stayed “Walnut” during the whole conversation), he didn’t take them seriously and believed that he knew best. His leadership might not be the worst but isn’t the best also, and his warren pays a high price in the end. Then we meet Cowslip. Cowslip is a good example for being all tinsel and glitter (I hope that is the right expression), and the same goes for his warren. He isn’t really the Chief Rabbit because the warren has none, but he is a representative of the warrens way of life, which is simple: “Enjoy the good things and overlook the bad things, because they are the price you have to pay.” The consequence of this way is that the rabbits in this warren have lost a lot of their natural abilities (‘I don’t believe they can fight, Hazel,’ said Pipkin. ‘Although they are so big, they don’t seem like fighters to me. …) and behaviour and no one is happy. And there is Woundwort. He is a real Chief Rabbit. Though his regime is built on terror and control he is also charismatic (Woundwort was no mere bully. He knew how to encourage other rabbits and to fill them with the spirit of emulation.). His flaws are quite plausibly explained by his sad and horrible background story (by the way, I liked how Adams created him not as a mere villain but gave him a certain depth. My favourite passages were right after Hazel’s suggestion of a shared warren, and the moment he sees Fiver shortly before the dog reaches the warren (both see below)). And here is the reason why Bigwig can’t be the leader. Don’t get me wrong, I liked Bigwig very much, but in a way he and Woundwort are alike. Bigwig is also driven by the wish to proof himself (see the incident with the fox), and though he is horrified when he comes to Efrafa, some things don’t feel so strange to him (…and here he met some experienced veterans and listened with interest to their stories of Wide Patrols and other exploits. (p.437)). He values discipline and order (‘You wretched little black beetle,’ he said. ‘You’ve never learnt to obey orders, have you?’ (p.144)). I doubt that in a warren led by him there would be a place for rabbits like Fiver or Pipkin. And I doubt that he would like to be the leader. His wish to proof himself is fulfilled in the end (and he nearly pays with his life), I think he is quite content with the role of the trainer of the new Owsla. I think with his occasionally self-doubts and his ability to ask others for help, Hazel is the ideal leader. I liked his description in the first chapter (Although he was a yearling and still below full weight, he had not the harassed look of most ‘outskirters’-…- on the edge of their warren. He looked as though he knew how to take care of himself. There was a shrewd, buoyant air about him…), which already tells a lot about his character. He stands up for others (Fiver, Pipkin) and acknowledges the talents of his fellow rabbits. 2. The description of the surroundings and various plants I must admit I was often at a loss. I already have difficulties with botanical descriptions in German, and I was too impatient /lazy to look up every plant that was mentioned. But I guess I got the general pictures (the heath, the beanfield etc.). 3. The Hedgerow Patois (lingua franca) I liked it, though it was sometimes difficult to read. For some reason I had less difficulties with Kehaar than with the mice. 4. Mixed observations/Resumé I liked it and enjoyed reading it. I must admit that I sometimes even forgot that the protagonists were rabbits. While reading, I could easily see all the characters in human form. I think this is part of the charm of the story. Adams translates characteristics (like courage, compassion etc.) and behaviours into a rather unfamiliar context (the world and life of rabbits), and he manages to do so without a loss. The result were characters I cared about and an exciting story. Last but not least, some of my favourite passages: ‘Piss off!’ (Kehaar after Hazel offered him help (p. 239). It made me laugh out loud). At that moment, in the sunset on Watership Down, there was offered to General woundwort the opportunity to show whether he was really the leader of vision and genius which he believed himself to be, or whether he was no more than a tyrant with the courage and cunning of a pirate. … He grasped it and realized what it meant. The next, he had pushed it away from him. (p.545). For a moment some old, flickering, here-and-gone feeling steered in the General’s memory – the smell of wet cabbage leaves in a cottage garden, the sense of some easy-going, kindly place, long forgotten and lost. (p.587) Then he saw that in the darkness of the burrow, the stranger’s ears were shining with a faint silver light. ‘Yes, my lord.’ He said. ‘Yes, I know you.’ (Epilogue p. 616. Left me with a silent ‘ohh’)
Don't be sorry, I'm extremely glad you came! I think this is what made him so frightening. He was functional as a head of a militaristic encampment. He led through power and terror, showing himself as a tidal force which collect his masses to near dogmatism. His followers didn't just fear for their lives, they strived to empower the model in which Woundwort had creates. That sort of blind faith and extreme measures in practice were frightening and powerful. I think it showed most when Woundwort fought off Keehar and rounded up his rabbits for what he thought was a final assault. He was an indomitable tidal wave and the mere mention of him brought on an even split of fear and respect. The leadership style was not one of enjoyment, but perceived necessity. I thought he honestly acted like a powerful military member, as I've seen before. I've been led by people like him before, and you are put through the ringer, but in the end all the strife makes you feel like you've really accomplished something. I respect the rabbit, though he was clearly driven in negative directions. This reasoning for his development that Adam's gives really provides that depth of believably for the powerhouse which is Woundwort. But I won't say he is without fault of course. He was chiefly driven by wrath and pride, both of which were squashed as Hazel's crew escaped on the boat. It was truly an irreconcilable moment for him because his authority rested on that invulnerability, and when those guiding sins failed him, he knew the rug under him was slipping. The final conflict was inevitable after that moment, as peace is never an option in his mind, only total victory. For a rabbit, he was a truly scary dude. I get your points, and I know them as well, but that sort of plays into the point I wanted to make in its own way. My view sees Bigwig as the leader by the end, a true chief rabbit after his massive turn and development over the course and events of the novel. He begins as a rebel, fighting back against leadership who yelled at him for a simple mistake. He's hard-headed, rowdy, and belligerent. But his understanding of the world grows as the plot develops. He learns to trust other smaller rabbits by the wire choking him near to death at Cowslip's warren, He learns patience and decisiveness, and how to utilize their resources, through Hazel, who becomes more of a mentor to him in leadership. Hazel teaches him the utilization of animals, which he takes in full stride o become great friends with the gull. He learns the value of the team and how to work together in all aspects of rabbit life. And then his big proving grounds appear as the Efrafra invasion occurs. He builds relationships and tests his leadership skills completely alone within enemy territory. He successfully leads a breakout through both clever and decisive action, as well as by force and size, making him well-rounded. The females will only follow his orders when they get to the boat, refusing the attempts by Hazel. But I think the actual moment that he becomes to true leader he is supposed to be is in the end. Bigwig jams himself in the tunnel to make a flesh wall between Woundwort and the rest of the rabbits to try to make time for everyone else to survive. And after that, he tells Hazel that he's done fighting and ready to settle down. From my experience with leadership, I equate it a lot to fatherhood, at least from my perspective. He's given up the rowdy and rough exterior and literally made himself a damage sponge for the warren's protection. He's gone through the yelling and orders phase to get down to what leadership really is, which is teaching and fostering a stronger and more connected group. Hazel is certainly the leader through most of te story, but by the end, I think the torch somewhat passes. I was actually pretty disappointed that Adams didn't pass it to Bigwig at the end, but I get why. Still, I'm on Bigwig's team. I like Hazel, but I love Bigwig. I think I ended up reading Kehaar in a bit of a bit of a African American slave dialect, as that dialect sound had been present in many of the stories I read over the spring from that region and time period in the US. I guess that made it easy to read for me, but it also made it feel like more of a commentary than it actually was intended to. I have to say the epilogue was one of my favorite parts because it brought all those stories more into the mix than just foreshadowing and fun. It made the folktales seem to be truth, and that made me think that strings guided the paws of the rabbits through the story, leading me into a wild sort of perspective of the overall narrative. Sure, I read into things too much, and get beyond intentions probably, but that's part of the reading experience. The reader's response. Doesn't always match the author's intention, but it gives me great enjoyment nonetheless.
