The Wind in the Willows

In the English language, there is no book more charming. There are wittier books, more audacious ones, and more incisive, but I know none more charming. The charm lies partly in the language—the fine, flowing prose that breaks sometimes into rhyme—and partly in the characters, the unbeatable Mole, Rat, Toad, and Badger. Through adventure and misadventure, songs and tears, Grahame’s prose and his spirited characters together compose an idyll fringed with darkness. Indeed, charming doesn’t mean innocent. But that part of The Wind in the Willows I encourage you to discover for yourself.

Surprisingly, I didn't love this quite so much as I was expecting. I thought for sure it would be 5 stars. Still, it was good vibes for the most part.

- Toad is an a-hole. I feel we're kind of supposed to be like "Oh, what a silly rascal!" and get behind his turning over of a new leaf, but I didn't buy it, and he didn't deserve to have Ratty, Moly, or Badger in his corner. Toad in the bin!

- Badger and Mole are sweetie-pie angels. When we were talking about it, I said "I wish I were a Badger, but I think more of a Mole" and my partner felt that was accurate. Which is not a self-deprecation; I love Moly, I'll take it!

- You cannot tell me that Rat and Mole weren't a couple. Look, I'm all for normalizing affectionate, deep, platonic show more relationships — soft masculinity heck yah; toxic masculinity in the bin — but this is giving Bert and Ernie before Bert and Ernie were a thing, and I said what I said. show less

I apologize to the majority of my GR friends who absolutely adored this book, but I’m on the side of the weasels and ferrets and evil little stoats.
If a kid grew up influenced purely by the characters and morals in this book, they would become a terrible, arrogant, selfish, pompously annoying person (and possibly commit crimes, fully anticipating no consequences). I would not want my child to read this until they were much older, but I would tell them not to bother.
It was amusing looking at StoryGraph reviews and seeing the content warnings tagged for this children’s book: gun violence, racism, racial slurs, classism, sexism, misogyny, fatphobia… I know it’s a product of it’s time, but this is not exactly great.
I don’t show more know how this became a beloved children’s classic because it sets a horrible example for children. It is whimsical and charming and written nicely, but that’s about it.
This doesn’t affect my review as 1) it was already negative and 2) again, I know the book was a product of its time, and oh how I wish I could remember exactly what it was, but there was a comment so blatantly and utterly sexist that I visibly gaped (and then laughed). The rest of the book is rife with inherent sexism but it’s at least under-handed and normalized, am I right ladies?! Yet another terrible example for impressionable young children.
Also, I’m trying not to question the implications of these characters using and eating animal products, and how there’s humans but also tiny toads driving cars, and a million other worldbuilding inconsistencies.
(Do they drive on the same road? Do the animals get their own roads? Do toads drive human-sized cars, somehow?! Literally actually HOW was a toad able to pass for a human woman? Where does the meat the animals eat come from? Do they know? Is a big secret being kept from them by the humans? Or are cows seen as an inferior species and put in death camps? Is this secretly a horror novel?)
I don’t expect kids to care too much about that, but it’s another reason I’m surprised by the status this book has as a rewarded classic. It’s adorable, sure, but it’s messy and random and nothing makes sense. Which I could look past in a cute kid’s book if I wasn’t being PROVOKED every other minute by the constant whining and bursting into tears and never learning any lesson, ever.
If a good editor looked over it today, there would be much reckoning. show less

Proust for Kids This is not a book for children, nor for adults, nor for those caught in between. It is not a book for anyone. I will not recommend it, or share it, or ask my wife to read it. It is a book only for me, as all books are, and no one else in the world will ever curl up in a rainbow hammock under variable skies and follow the languid walks over emotional landscapes, alien and yet natural, and see through the eyes of those who are not people, are not animals, either, nor anything in between. I have just read the chapter in which Rat, the steadfast, loyal, mildly gruff yet dependable and neighborly, the erstwhile partner of the innocent Mole, observes the goings on of the migratory animals in early autumn and first rejects, show more then finds himself envious of, then is bewitched by and then released from, the notion of wandering to new unknown lands and leaving behind his structure and his self. In a bit of reversal, he is "rescued" from having the far off eyes of a very different rat by his partner Mole, who perhaps learned the trick of it and the sometimes necessity from the earlier failed attempts to heal toad of his inherent toadness. At the end, Mole provides paper and pencil and suggests to an uncertain Rat that he hasn't written poetry in a while, and perhaps he might scribble a bit, at least to get down the rhymes. And rat does. He is not Robert Frost, our rat. He's not a literary artist. But he is himself, and his poetic spirit is with him always, and applies itself at just the right moment in just the right way, when fumbling with the natural world after an encounter with the divine, for example. His poems will never quite be complete, but there is something there that answers who he is and who he longs to be, and it is enough. My word, what an odd, odd book. "Rich" is the obvious description... Ludicrously rich. Very little happens, everything happens, and we get swept up in it until we realize we are reading a book about everything, and everything that ever was anywhere or ever will be. It's Proust for children. Nostalgia is my least favorite flavor, so I have no reason to love this book, but I do. We are rat, and mole, and sometimes toad, and we might unwisely aspire to be badger, who is clean out of fucks long before the phrase was invented, and we shall ever wander and skip through our lives like the twittering sparrows. show less

A classic of children’s literature (published in 1908) that I never heard or read as a child and somehow never got around to reading until now. A great pity. I have no doubt whatsoever that I would have loved this as a child; one of my delights was the edition I read had absolutely wonderful illustrations. The storyline is simple: two friends, Mole and Rat—together with Badger and a small, assorted cast of others—devote their energies to saving Mr. Toad from his lack of judgment. There are a number of short adventures tucked in as well and a truly lovely, evocative paean to the English countryside runs throughout. The animals’ personalities are beautifully drawn and I cannot imagine any child (or adult, for that matter) who show more would not be enchanted by this gentle tale. Highly recommended. show less

I have so many thoughts about this classic. I'd never read it before, then the audiobook came across my desk and I decided it was time. As I started listening, my mind completely wandered from the story and I had to start over. Again and again this kept happening (there's not a lot of action in the beginning to hold one's attention). I had to really concentrate to understand what was happening and when I did...

Is this a book about a bunch of gay men?

Mole, Water Rat, Toad and Badger are all animals with the characteristics and habits of humans--to be specific, well-to-do human males from the year 1908. They picnic, go boating, have luncheons, smoke and drink coffee. They wear waistcoats and own estates. They're all adults--they live on show more their own and make their own livings. None of them has a wife or children or any immediate family. They're fiercely loyal to each other and seem to be like a clique.

Seriously, if I didn't know that this was supposed to be a children's book, I'd swear Mole and Ratty were between-the-lines lovers, the bedrock couple of the group. Badger is the older, wiser, grumpier member, and Mr. Toad is obviously the wild and crazy kid that everyone loves but also can't stand.

So that's my reading of this book. It's basically Queer as Folk in a Downton Abbey setting. Only there's no sex because, duh, it's a children's book. show less

Originally published in 1908, this classic British animal fantasy began as a series of bedtime stories that the author created for his young son, and only found its way into print after Grahame retired from his career in banking. Described as everything from a paean to the beauty of English country life, to a portrait of the class structure of late Victorian Britain, The Wind in the Willows is one of those stories that can be interpreted in diverse ways, and appreciated on many different levels. The tale of four friends - humble Mole, who happens upon a new life and a new social circle one day, when he sticks his nose up out of his burrow; friendly Ratty, a stouthearted sailor and happy-go-lucky river-dweller, who serves to bind the show more friends together; wise and retiring Badger, who may prefer the solitude of his woods, but nevertheless proves a valuable ally and friend; and spoiled Toad (of Toad Hall), the conceited son of privilege, who has a better heart than either judgment or resolve - it is as engaging as it is well written, and every bit as relevant as the day it was first published.

Chosen as our December selection, over in The Children's Fiction Book Club to which I belong, The Wind in the Willows is one of those books (of which there are far too many, I am afraid) that I have long been meaning to read, but to which I never seem to get to. How glad I am that my book-club commitments finally gave me the push I needed to pick it up, as I absolutely adored it! I can see why so many readers have recommended it to me over the years. The social analysis is certainly of interest - I find the idea (put forward in our book discussion, amongst other places) that the four friends each represent a different strata of the middle and upper classes, while the residents of The Wild Wood (the weasels, stoats and ferrets) represents the "underclass," quite convincing - although it was the beauty of the language that really stood out, on this initial read. The playful use of language, with made-up words and plenty of alliteration - So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws..." - the lyrical descriptions of the world of river and wood, and the gorgeous dreamlike passages leading up to the breathlessly magical encounter with Pan, in "Pipers at the Gates of Dawn," all left a powerful impression on me. I will be wanting to read this again, I think, and will be thinking of it for some time to come. It's just a lovely, lovely little book! show less