This is a follow up to my post on the Wind in the Willows.
I didn’t want to include this line of thought in my initial thoughts on the Wind in the Willows. I think it deserves its own post, so here goes.
I often reference C.S. Lewis’ statement to the effect that fantasy literature does not make children (and I would say adults as well, so long as they’re not prone to pure escapism) forget, or despise, the real world. He said basically that a child who reads of an enchanted forest does not thereby begin to hate real forests. Instead all forests take on some of this enchantment. For instance, I’ve never thought of forests in the same way since reading the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings. I’ve never looked at peaceful walks the same since I read the Princess and the Goblin (I’m always ready to sing a goblin song should the proper situation arise). I’ve never looked at lions the same since reading the Chronicles of Narnia. I could go on, but I won’t.
I bring this up here because one might think of a story about a bunch of animals with human characteristics as mere silliness and entertainment (the Narnia books should show the falsity of such a notion). The Wind in the Willows is a perfect example of how a work of fiction (and impossible fiction at that) can actually tune us in to reality in a way, perhaps, more significant than if the book were ‘realistic.’
In Orthodoxy, Chesterton wrote (I’m paraphrasing) that we sometimes need to read of golden apples to remind us that apples are really green (or red, or yellow), and of rivers of wine to remind us that rivers are, in fact, filled with water. In our position, taking these things for granted, we tend to forget such wonderful facts.
In the case of the Wind in the Willows we get anthropomorphism as well as sheer unlikeness, for the animals are made human-like, and yet are utterly different because they remain animals. Yet, taking Chesteron’s point, it is precisely in this fact – the animals are different from us, and yet the same as us (because of the anthropomorphism) – that we are led to see actual reality more clearly. In other words, to paraphrase Chesterton again, sometimes we need prideful, idolatrous toads to remind us that humans are prideful and idolatrous.
It’s absurd to think of a toad obsessed with cars. It’s laugh out loud funny. But we wouldn’t laugh so hard if he were a human. Perhaps then we should be laughing at more humans.
It’s absurd to think of a toad who is arrogant and self-absorbed, always wanting the attention focused on him. It’s hilarious. But it’s not as funny when we see a prideful man. Perhaps it should be.
Idolatry and pride are, you guessed it, idolatry and pride – no matter the situation. They are scandalous regardless of the person or circumstances. Sometimes it takes fantasy (say, talking animals) to point this out to us. When I laugh at toad, when I think of his pomposity and absurdity, I’m laughing at myself – and so are you. The question is, do you realize it? You are that guy.
David had a ‘Wind in the Willows’ moment before the prophet Nathan. We all need moments like that. Sometimes it takes a story that takes us completely out of our comfortable context for it to happen.
2 Samuel 12:7 ¶ Nathan said to David, “You are the man!
“He said basically that a child who reads of an enchanted forest does not thereby begin to hate real forests. Instead all forests take on some of this enchantment.”
Precisely! This is a wonderful distinction to be reminded of. Thanks.
You’re welcome. Thank you for the comment.