Watership Down – A Spellbinding Fantasy Adventure Novel

“All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.”

Richard Adams’ classic fantasy novel Watership Down, like many other classic works of literature, endured myriad of obstacles to get published (in 1972 by Rex Collings). In fact, the genesis of Watership Down is as much fascinating as the detailed fantasy world of anthropomorphized rabbits. Richard Adams originally began telling the tales of sapient animals to his two daughters on a trip. By this time in the 1960s, Oxford-educated Adams, also a war veteran of World War II, worked in the British Civil Service. Encouraged by his family and inspired by naturalist Ronald Lockley’s ‘The Private Life of Rabbit’, he started writing the story, which took him two years to complete. Then Adams faced at least seven rejections from publishing agencies. But over the years after its publication, the book sold more than 50 million copies (at age 54, Adams became a full-time author; he wrote novels and wrestled with ideas for stories up until his death in 2016, at age 96). Now Watership Down has cemented a position in the fantasy literature hall of fame right alongside J.R.R Tolkien, C.S.Lewis, etc.

A lot of first-time readers of the novel would stumble across a kind of disparity between their expectations and the writers’ tone. The image of rabbit may withhold a childish appeal, but the preoccupations of Adams’ anthropomorphized rabbits are very adult in nature. The story deals with themes of tyranny, survival, leadership, reproduction, and freedom that may appeal more to older children and adults (it gained a reputation of being ‘not-so-appropriate children’s book’). It is because much of the naturalistic/realistic details about the rabbits’ existential quest are drawn from Adams’ experience in Second World War. His acquaintance with rebels, soldiers, and officers makes up for the human adult-like mental state of the rabbits.

Watership Down opens in Sandleford Warren, a quiet home to many rabbits. Among these, brothers Hazel and Fiver (less than a year old) go through their routine of nibbling grass at sunset. Hazel hopes to gain more weight and join the ranks of Owsla – the strong inner circle. Fiver is an oddball runt of his litter, oft disregarded by others in the warren. When Fiver comes across a sign board in the field, he gets agitated and has a premonition. Hazel takes Fiver to the Chief Rabbit and he warns about bad things waiting to happen. The Chief Rabbit brushes away Fiver’s warnings and finds it impossible to entirely move their warren. Hence, Hazel and Fiver decides to leave the warren. And before long, they are joined by Bigwig, the strongest of their warren and a member of Owsla. After mild altercations, eleven rabbits including Hazel and Fiver make a difficult journey across fields and roads that are infested with humans’ hrududil (automobiles) and other kinds of enemies.

Author Richard Adams

During tough times, a story-telling rabbit named Dandelion narrates the adventures of El-ahrairah, the persistent hero of rabbits’ folklore. The stories are full of cunning and bravery which inspires our heroic rabbits to keep going in order to find a safe place in the hill. The band of rabbits first stumble into a seemingly peaceful warren, invited to live there by a giant, well-bred rabbit named Cowslip. All the rabbits in the warren looks healthy, although they are melancholic and strangely the population is low. Once again Fiver warns of sinister things lurking in the warren. But only when the rabbits of Cowslip's Warren fail to appreciate the marvel of El-ahrairah’s stories do the freedom-seeking rabbits led by Hazel grasp the diffidence and sinistral things pervading the warren. The unmasking of the Cowslip’s secret pushes Hazel and others to congregate on Watership. The top of the hill is asserted as perfect place for building a new warren, since the view would warn them of any enemies in the area. Hazel continues to find new ways to strengthen their warren. By this time, two injured rabbits from their old warren (Sandleford), also its only survivors, carry bad news that confirms Fiver’s premonition. However, the immediate problem preoccupying Hazel is to find does (female rabbits), without whom the warren will not thrive. The quest for does sets Hazel and his rabbits on a hazardous adventure that brings them face-to-face with a tyrannical General (Woundwort) of an excessively controlled warren known as ‘Efrafa’.

Richard Adams always rejected the idea of interpreting too much from his story. He has remarked, “It was meant to be just a story…..simply the story of rabbits made up and told in the car.” Nevertheless, Adams’ claims didn’t stem the flow of allegorical readings over the decades, some of which I find very interesting. Some critics/bibliophiles latch on to the book’s religious allegory, some focus on its folkloric elements, and few others find strong references to primitive humans and their civilizations. What I particularly gleaned from Watership Down is the perpetual conflict between quest for freedom versus the allure of safety and security. This is a theme that’s central to the human hierarchical societies of 20^th & 21^st century as we relentlessly mull over the boundaries of freedom and need for safety. The other significant element addressed in the novel is encroachment of lands for industrialization so as to solely satisfy the human needs. Mr. Adams constantly evokes the beautiful image of the pastoral, and the intrusion of this pleasant space by human footsteps, cars and other machineries deeply conveys the foolhardiness and stolidness of our race.

A still from Martin Rosen's 1978 adaptation of the novel

I immensely liked the way the author gradually builds up character traits for each rabbits, making it easy to differentiate one from the other. Adams flawlessly zeroes-in on the group dynamics and how these different-minded rabbits come together in nerve-wracking situations. The surefooted leader Hazel, the belligerent Bigwig, the intuitive Fiver, all of whose knowledge unchained from hierarchical politics enormously benefits the rabbits of Watership Down in grave situations. In fact, numerous lessons on leadership, group dynamics, and authority roles were weaved out of the way these rabbits smartly maneuver themselves from imminent catastrophe.

In many ways, there are similarities between Tolkien’s quest of the hobbits and the rabbits’ goal. Adams, like Tolkien, had conceived distinct mythology and language (Lapine) for their fantasy world, although not as obsessively as the creator of Middle-Earth. Primarily, both are about ragtag band of young heroes braving a greater enemy. While Tolkien doesn’t offer any explanations for the absence of detailed female characters (with inner lives), Adams blames it on the impassivity of the male rabbits, who desires bunch of does, not for romance but to build a stable population in the warren (of course, if Watership Down is published now, it would have drawn heavy criticisms for not portraying liberated, self-dependent does). Any way, it’s better to read the book for what it is (a beautifully written epic adventure) than for what it is not.

A Midsummer’s Equation – An Enjoyable Third Outing for Detective Galileo

Ever since the English translation of Devotion of Suspect X (in 2011), Japanese author Keigo Higashino has developed a strong reputation as the writer of mesmerizingly complex crime fiction. If crime novels are a form of tourism, Highashino’s writings could very well acquaint us with unique food, locales, philosophical renderings, people’s attitude, and other alleged eccentricities pertaining to the nation (which we address as ‘Japaneseness’). Of course, we read crime fiction to also gaze into a country’s desolate quarters permeated with bleak notions that aren’t advertised in the shiny brochures. However, Higashino’s novels don’t take a conventional plunge into dreary Japanese underworld. Much of the crimes committed in the author’s stories are related to domestic conflicts and the perpetrators (and victims) mostly hail from middle-class, inherently carrying a strong sense of morality and are persistently swimming against the rapidly changing tides of economic climate.

While readers of crime fiction in translation might be marveled at the rise in Japanese crime novelists in the recent past (Natsuo Kirino, Kanae Minato, Hideo Yokoyama, etc), the detective stories in Japanese literature has a long tradition. From Edogawa Rampo, Seicho Matsumoto to Yukito Ayatsuji and Soji Shimada, Japanese crime novels in the past century had underwent a lot of changes as well as stuck itself to idiosyncratic cultural and moral notions. Keigo Higashino’s approach incorporates elements of human psychology, Eastern philosophy, and Sherlock Holmes-like sleuthing processes. Like any other crime writer around the world, Higashino bestows the key to unlock his complex puzzle upon his fictional alter-ego Manabu Yukawa, who is revered as ‘Detective Galileo’. Yukawa isn’t, however, a badge-carrying detective, but an associate professor of physics whose deep intellectual reflections and strong knowledge of science brings swift solutions to hard-to-crack cases. A Midsummer’s Equation (translated to English by Alexander O. Smith in 2016) was the third book in ‘Detective Galileo’ series (followed by Suspect X & Salvation of a Saint). Similar to the two previous books in the series, the central crime looks like an easily decipherable case, but over time the robust facts emerging from the case the task of nailing a suspect becomes daunting.

While Suspect X & Salvation of a Saint revealed the suspect/perpetrator earlier in the narrative and simply tracked down the answers to questions ‘How’ & ‘Why’, A Midsummer’s Equation starts off as whodunit murder/mystery. The story beings with 11-year-old Kyohei on his way to spend his summer vacation at an old seaside resort ‘Green Rock Inn’, managed by his aunt and uncle, Setsuko and Shigeharu Kawahata. En route to Hari Cove, Kyohei takes the same train as Manabu Yukawa. Despite the fastidious and ungreagrious nature of Yukawa, he comes to the boy’s rescue over an altercation of using mobile phones during travel. Kyohei also sort of recommends his aunt’s inn to Yukawa for his indeterminate stay at the coastal town. Yukawa is traveling to Hari Cove to attend series of public meetings organized by DESMEC, a big corporation which wants to dig up the mineral resources on the ocean-bed The concerned local citizens have formed the group ‘Save the Cove’ and the meetings are to assuage the tension regarding the project.

For years, Hari Cove has gradually lost its tourism revenue. Even at the middle of summer, Green Rock Inn has only one reservation. Now with DESMEC’s promise for steady jobs, the town’s natural beauty is also threatened. Thirty-year-old Narumi – Shigehiro-Setsuko’s daughter & Kyohei’s cousin – is one of the dedicated patrons of ‘Save the Cove’ movement. She and her friends in the group take the conference on undersea mining prospects very seriously. During the meeting, she sees an elderly man -- a total stranger – nodding towards her. Later, Narumi finds out that the old man named Mr. Masatsugu Tsukahara is the one reserved a room in their inn. Thanks to Kyohei, the inn also has another guest (Yukawa). In the night after the meeting, Tsukahara goes missing and later is found dead on the rocks lining the coast. No foul-play was initially suspected. But Tsukahara’s identity raises some questions. Soon, Yukawa using his analytical genius mind arrives at a theory behind Tsukahara’s death. Nevertheless, it takes a detailed investigation led by prefectural and Tokyo department police to get to the whole of truth (which is full of twists and turns).

Masaharu Fukuyama plays Yukawa aka Detective Galileo in the movie adaptations

 What I love about Higashino’s novels are the steady, fluid pace and dense details that come out of a seemingly simple scenario. Moreover, a good number of the smaller details expand our initial understanding of the characters, which in turn allows for in-depth examination of themes like guilt, penance, crime and punishment. Like many fictional sleuths, Yukawa makes an intriguing central character because of him lacking in courtesies and social niceties (at the same time he keeps up with reader’s scientific expectations). Scientific pursuit of truth is the sole preoccupation of Higashno’s protagonist. He goes after truth in a manner that somehow often results in strictly moralistic and unexpectedly bleak conclusions. But in A Midsummer’s Equation, Yukawa unveiling of secret doesn’t lead to entirely dark developments. There’s a touch of Zen and Eastern philosophy, when the physicist tells (to bewildered Kyohei) the importance of dispelling evil through truth and goes on to suggest how truth can allow us to make informed choices in our future.

Eventually, A Midsummer’s Equation was more emotionally satisfying (despite lacking the subtlety of Malice and Suspect X) than what I consider to be the author’s underwhelming novel – ‘Journey Under the Midnight Sun’. Although ‘Journey..’ was critically acclaimed, I found the central mystery in the novel to be dragging on and on as it introduced lot of subplots that didn’t do much to advance the plot (it was messy rather than being a labyrinth). The central protagonists of that novel are also so unsympathetic and are only perceived through the eyes of underdeveloped minor characters. Furthermore, the ultimate reveal and the easily predictable episodic twists were totally dissatisfying for me. A Midsummer’s Equation might be smaller in scope compared to ‘Journey’, but the human drama and emotions are sufficiently convincing (the only odd part is teenager Narumi’s momentary rage, even though the author incorporates lot of details to convince us on the character’s psychological underpinning). Altogether, A Midsummer’s Equation is a well-crafted addition to the ‘Detective Galileo’ series, delivering series of marvelous narrative twists while also maintaining surprising emotional resonance. 

Hell House – A Spooky and Risque Haunted House Fiction

American author Richard Matheson’s Hell House (published 1971) was hailed as one of the best haunted house horror fiction, following Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House. However, unlike Shirley Jackson’s penchant for conjuring psychological terror, Mr. Matheson’s horror elements are more visceral, jumping headlong into savagery. Hell House’s story outline is pretty similar to ‘Hill House’: a motley crew of paranormal investigators and scientists are hired to go into an infamous haunted house and try to comprehend its mysteries. The haunted abode in question here is known as ‘Belasco House’, described earlier in the novel as the ‘the Mount Everest of haunted houses’. A dying newspaper tycoon buys the mansion and he hires three members to find proof about the truth of afterlife. The magnate believes that the answer could be found in the titular place, amidst its whirlwind of non-human entities.

The evil of Hell House was created by one man named Emeric Belasco, through his obsession for debauchery and murder. He built this as a retreat to primarily initiate unsuspecting individuals into his perverted and depraved thinking. Previously, two crews have investigated the house in 1931 and 1940, but both teams were met with gory demise, except for a young, blessed medium Benjamin Fischer. Fischer is once again chosen for the 1970 expedition into hell house. The other two members are: Florence Tanner, an obscure Hollywood actress now turned into mental medium, and Dr. Lionel Barett, a physicist and parapsychologist, who firmly believes that hauntings are merely residual electromagnetic-energy that has built up in the house over the years. He doesn’t believe in ghosts and especially censures the notion that apparitions contain personalities.

Accompanying middle-aged Dr. Barrett in his journey is his young wife Edith, a character which more or less aligns with readers’ perspective, since the paranormal researchers keep on explaining their conflicting opinions to her. The hired investigators have a week to prove whether the spirits or entities exist. Fischer, who bears the mental scars from his last exploration, keeps his mind close. But Florence, the eager medium, attempts to contact with the souls lingering in the mansion, only to invite Barrett’s ridicule. Meanwhile, Barrett waits for the arrival of his custom-built machine, which he believes will liquidate the electromagnetic energy that evokes varying psychic phenomena. Then as expected, the mental onslaught and physical intimidation commence.

Pamela Franklin plays Florence in the 1973 movie version

Hell House is quite risque and profane compared to Shirley Jackson’s sexless stories. Earlier into the novel, Matheson cooks up a situation, where one female strips and the other ogle at the ‘fullness of breasts and warmth of loins’. Since Emeric Belasco’s sins were spelled with details, the sexual deviance and maniacal behavior only escalates. The repressed past of Edith and her sexual frustration over Barrett’s impotence were clearly used to create sensationalism and shock value. The bouts of sexual violence and exploitation would definitely put off lot of readers. While Matheson manages to keep the readers on the edge through his depiction of physical attacks, his characters aren’t multi-layered or strong enough to make us really care about them. Contrary to depth of characterization in Shirley Jackson’s Hill House (or even in Stephen King’s works – the author cites Matheson as his greatest influence), Hell House is a grimly fascinating arrangement of thrills and scary situations. Belasco’s huge mansion is described as ‘Charnel house of fancies’. The same could be said about the novel, which isn’t a great horror novel, but engaging enough to make us dream about the atrocious spectres. 

The novel was adapted into a movie titled The Legend of Hell House (1973) by John Hough and the script written by Matheson himself. It was a decent adaptation and a must-see for those interested in haunted-house films. Novelist and screenwriter Richard Matheson is often cited as the man who set forth a distinct path for tales of sci-fi and horror, which was followed by generations of writers and film-makers. I am Legend (1954), The Shrinking Man (1956), and What Dreams May Come (1978) are my three favorite Matheson novels. 

 The Legend of Hell House Trailer