by Richard Adams
p. 1972
I didn’t start this blog intending for it to be a feminist
literature blog; I truly had no intentions of discussing gender roles every
single time I read a book and I don’t, on the whole, it just happens that I’ve
read a lot of books written between the fifties and seventies lately, and by
chance Watership Down is just the
latest in a string of books where discussing gender roles cannot be ignored,
especially since it figures directly into the plot here.
I had no idea what to expect plot-wise, as I'd never read Watership Down as a kid, though it would
have been right up my alley, given my love of animal adventures (my first ever ‘book’,
written by my first-grade self, was a story about ten animal friends; is
now notoriously lost to the ages). Watership
Down is not a kid-friendly adventure in the vein of Brian Jacques’ Redwall
series, though it would not be inappropriate for all kids, just those with
more... delicate sensibilities. It is never graphic, but there are descriptions
of rabbits being killed that could scare younger readers.
The plot is simple; Hazel, the protagonist, is a young,
sturdy rabbit whose brother Fiver, the runt of the litter and a prophet
of sorts, predicts a dire future for the warren in which they’ve lived their whole lives. Fiver is a peculiar creature among rabbits but Hazel trusts him
and manages to convince a few other youngsters to follow them on their journey
into the unknown. Since rabbits are prey to pretty much everything, they
encounter many dangers on the way but eventually settle a new warren on
Watership Down and are content to live out their days... until they discover
they totally forgot to bring girls along.
The second half of the book is concerned primarily with
finding some girls to populate their new digs and have their many rabbit babies. Call me crazy but I caught on to
this oversight right away when they kept introducing more and more androgynously-named
rabbits (like Hazel, Holly and Strawberry, to name a few) and none of them turned out to be female, but none of our heroes joined
me in this revelation. This is explained by the excuse that rabbits do not have
the capacity to think beyond the immediate danger (and this excuse is widely
supported by their simplicity), but I still found it a little silly that none
of them thought to convince a few girls to come along, especially since
everyone that remained was brutally slaughtered and judging by the complacency
of the does they eventually do bring
home, it doesn’t seem crazy to think that it would have been easy to convince a
few to join them.
There are a couple female rabbits of note later on but none
of them ever come close to providing the same qualities that the male rabbits
do. Their sole purpose in this novel and the only reason for including them is
to procreate. Apparently film and TV
adaptations of Watership Down
adjusted for political correctness and gender flipped a few rabbits, or made up
a few, but as there were only a couple years in between these and the book’s
publication, I have to wonder what the deal is. It makes me even sadder since
Adams apparently wrote this story for his daughters, yet failed to include any
girls. And it’s not even like all the rabbits are timid, dull creatures. Each
of the male rabbits has their area of usefulness and moments of heroism, but
the girls are left out. One of them even gets snatched by a fox and they shrug it off and say "what's one more or less doe?" In a story that highlights the importance of cultural evolution and innovation, why couldn't gender roles be challenged as well? I'm sure the girls would have fought just as bravely for the lives.
The women-exist-solely-as-breeders theme aside, there is
still a lot to enjoy about Watership Down.
Stylistically, I was reminded of The
Hobbit in that we follow a group of unlikely heroes on an important
journey. On the way they battle and overcome differences and tell stories. In
the rabbits’ case, all of their stories center on a rabbit folk hero named El-ahrairah
(“Prince with a Thousand Enemies”, as the footnotes translate), and his
interactions with the woodland creatures as well as the rabbit (or “Lapine”)
equivalents of God and Death, Frith (the sun) and the Black Rabbit of Inlé,
respectively. Occasionally these stories would intersect with or inspire the
events of the story, since El-ahrairah embodies the trickster spirit of rabbits
and our heroes often had to think beyond their simple lives to survive. Mostly
though, I found these deviations from the story tiresome and distracting.
My favorite character shifted as the story progressed and
each rabbit had their moment to shine. Right off the bat I favored the
protagonist Hazel, admiring him for his bravery and his faith in his brother
which thrust him into a leadership position, but admonished him later for letting
his ambitions lead him astray. Fiver, the prophetic brother, was a bit too
spastic for me to enjoy at first, but he grew up a lot on the journey and had
more moments of clarity than anyone; he never minded being universally despised
either, he just did what he thought he had to to save his people. Holly, an
early antagonist who almost prevents the group from leaving the warren, shows
up later, one of only two survivors; shaken by traumatic events, he is humbled
and helpful and helps the new group. Bluebell—the other survivor—holds a
special place in my heart for being the eternal joker who gets his friends
through hard times. Dandelion is the quickest runner and the ablest storyteller
and Blackberry is the cleverest rabbit of them all, able to imagine his way out
of every scrape using skills incomprehensible to his friends. Even the villain,
General Woundwort, is a remarkably sympathetic antagonist, one you can’t help
but admire a little for his stalwartness. The only rabbit I strongly adored
consistently was Bigwig, the fighter, a constant source of strength and loyalty,
who challenges Hazel when he needs challenging but nobly steps aside when he
realizes he is not the true leader. Bigwig suffers perhaps more than any other
rabbit but he remains Watership Down’s staunchest ally.
My only other complaint is that [spoiler alert! Highlight text to read] no rabbits
actually die on the entire journey OR in the climatic end battle, with the
exception of a few does (but who cares about them, AM I RIGHT?!) and a few of
Woundwort’s men. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not gunning for their blood or
advocating a rabbit snuff tale or anything, but I think it took a lot away from
the impact of the journey that there were no losses. To stand up for what you
believe in takes courage and can be rewarding but even kids should learn that
taking a stand sometimes has consequences. At the end of the story, when
everyone lived happily ever after, I didn’t really feel like as much was at
stake as I would have if we’d seen a few of the characters lost along the way.
This book was definitely not what I was expecting, and I
wonder how differently I would be looking at it if I had read it as a child. As
it stands, I was a little disappointed I didn’t like it more as an adult. I was a little interested in checking out
the film and TV versions... until I found out that BOTH versions carelessly omitted Bluebell, which I
found to be a severe error in judgment on their parts. I will now be boycotting
any version until they make one that includes my favorite trickster rabbit.
TAKE NOTE HOLLYWOOD. (And while you’re at it, give a few of the good parts to
the ladies, will ya?)
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