“Watership Down” by Richard Adams

How Books Are Like Drugs

We might not have concrete proof for the gateway hypothesis when it comes to drugs—does early use of cigarettes and alcohol lead to later use of harder drugs like cocaine or heroin?—but I’m convinced the gateway hypothesis holds true for books. Starting to read at a young age seems to encourage a lifelong love of reading, which is something I think we can all agree is good.

While I can’t prove it definitively, the anecdotal evidence is compelling. As a teacher, part of my mission is to inspire students to read more, much more, as much as possible — hoping they become so captivated by books that they continue reading throughout their lives. Even if I’m wrong, the worst that can happen is that a few kids are forced to read “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“You tricked me and I won’t forget it.”

Why Animals?

A question I’ve often wondered: Why do so many children’s books feature animals as the main characters? We can think of countless examples: “The Tale of Peter Rabbit,” “Charlotte’s Web,” “The Wind in the Willows,” “Winnie-the-Pooh,” “The Jungle Book,” “The Lion King,” “The Velveteen Rabbit,” “Paddington Bear”—and that’s just in Western literature. People in nearly every culture use animals when they’re writing for children.

It seems there’s a natural instinct among children’s authors to anthropomorphize anything with fur and a cute face.

There are many reasons for this. Animals are relatable and adored by children, and using them allows kids to view their world in new ways. The backyard transforms from a bland patch of grass into a battleground or an adventure zone. One of my biggest regrets about becoming an “adult” is that I’ve lost the ability to get lost in my own imagination the way I used to–to so vividly imagine being a mouse or a cat or a bird navigating through my neighborhood’s secret pathways. In essence, the older I get, the harder it seems to be to play. For children, though, it is as natural as breathing.

Another reason to use animals in children’s literature is that animals are safe. It’s unthinkable to write a children’s story depicting the brutal death of a parent by gun violence, yet Bambi’s mom gets blown away in an absolutely devastating scene and that story is celebrated all over the world–it’s strange if someone hasn’t seen it.

This approach — using animals as characters — lets us explore profound or disturbing themes in a way that’s less likely to traumatize young readers. We can do this while featuring creatures that children find engaging. (Another interesting question is why children find animals like mice and rabbits so fascinating, but that’s a topic for another time.)

“That’s right. I’m cute as shit.”

The “Watership” Isn’t Actually a Ship

“Watership Down,” number 7 on the list of 1,000 Books to Read Before You Die, is a book I should have read by now but haven’t. Given that “Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH” is one of my favorites, you’d think “Watership Down” would be right up my alley.

As a kid, though, the title “Watership Down” confused me. I imagined it was something like “Black Hawk Down,” a story about rabbits speeding around the Atlantic in a submarine. How did the rabbits build it? I wondered. Were they welders? And would beavers or ducks lead some kind of rescue operation?

“It appears as if my water ship has gone down!”

Years later, when a student of mine wrote a report on “Watership Down,” I realized I’d misunderstood the title. A “Down” is simply a grassy hill in southern England, derived from the Old English word “dūn” for “hill.”

The story follows a group of rabbits who leave their warren after a prophetic rabbit named Fiver foresees its destruction. Fiver’s brother, Hazel, believes him, and they set off to find a promised land called “Watership Down.,” taking along any other rabbits who believe them.

While the rabbits in the book do talk, the book portrays them as realistic rabbits with detailed behavior, customs, and even a rudimentary religion centered around a trickster rabbit, El-ahrairah. It’s clear that Richard Adams observed rabbits closely to capture their behavior, probably while walking around grassy southern England, where daily walks are mandated by a government agency.

“There must be some goddamned rabbits around here somewhere…”

Challenges & Magic

Watership isn’t magical realism per se, but it does include some inexplicable elements. Fiver’s visions often come true, suggesting he might be some kind of oracle. I can’t tell if this ability is common for rabbits or if Fiver is unique. I mean, if other bunnies had similar abilities, their old warren might have heeded Fiver’s warnings about the humans who began developing the land and killing all their rabbit pals instead of ignoring it.

The bunnies who manage to escape, led by Hazel and the burly Bigwig, face many challenges before realizing they forgot something crucial: female rabbits. Whoops! This oversight leads to a new phase in the story as Hazel and his friends plan to find some girls to ensure their survival. But will the be able to steal some from a nearby warren?

“Yo! Where all the white rabbits at?”

Bloody Rabbits!

The 1970s movie adaptation of “Watership Down” gained notoriety for its depiction of rabbit deaths. While the book contains violence—reflecting the dangerous lives of rabbits—it’s fairly tame by today’s standards.

Yikes! That trailer makes it sound like a horror story. The book, though, is mostly just rabbits talking and/or running long distances before digging holes to sleep in. Richard Adams could almost be called a naturalist for how much he focuses on nature. The result is rather idyllic prose that makes it easy to forget the occasional snare or dog attack.

The Final Results

“Watership Down” exemplifies why animal stories captivate readers of all ages. By exploring themes like survival, leadership, and resistance through the eyes of rabbits, the book makes complex ideas accessible and safe. Animal stories open new worlds, foster empathy, and, most importantly, encourage students to become lifelong readers.

The sorts of clowns (like me!) who read kids’ books when they’re supposed to be working.

It might not be as addictive as heroin, but whether or not the gateway hypothesis for books can be scientifically proven, stories like “Watership Down” have a special power. They draw us in with lovable animal characters and keep us going with stories that inspire. Perhaps they even spark a lifelong love of reading.

After all, if we can learn life’s lessons from a group of rabbits on an English hill, who knows where else might take us?

Strange place for a submarine to sink, but who am I to judge?

“Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions” by Edwin Abbott Abbott

English teachers are ready at a moment’s notice to not only explain aspects of literature, but to defend and justify literature to people who think it needs defending and justification. These are people we lovingly refer to as “idiots” — the vocal majority who have only ever picked up a novel when forced and, for whatever reason, feel no qualms when boasting about that fact.

Students gripe. It’s part of being young and not liking it when people tell you what to do, so you’ve got to be ready to talk back to them. Recently, when my students have gone off on a tangent somewhat parallel to “Why bother to read books?” which happens at least once a semester, I’ve told them this: “Books are the only media left that isn’t trying to sell you something.” Ads are everywhere — books are one of the only safe spaces left. While that’s more than enough reason for me to go to bookstores more frequently than I ought to, some bull-headed students require a little extra:

“Books allow you to glimpse into other lives and other times. This, in turn, increases your understanding of other people and your capability for empathy. Understanding and empathy are the things that make our world better.”

“I don’t WANNA identify with others and YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”

Welcome to Flatland: The Least Romantic of Dimensions

“Flatland: A Romance in Many Dimensions” by Edwin Abbott Abbott is one of those old science fiction books that hits you over the head with this idea. The book, pseudonymously written by one “A. Square” tells the story a … square (oh, I see what he did there) that lives in a 2-dimensional universe — their world has length and width but no height, so every creature and object is essentially flat. But more flat than we can even understand. To them, height just doesn’t exist.

The square explains a bit about the nature of his world, which turns out to be a satirical take on (mostly) British society and its rigid class hierarchy, before meeting a sphere (gasp!) and being brought into the world of 3 dimensions. Upon his return, Mr. A. Square is unable to convince any of his fellow Flatlanders that this 3rd dimension actually exists and is eventually jailed for his heretical ramblings.

It’s a short book (a novella, really) that doesn’t require much of a time commitment, and Mr. Abbott Abbott does a fine enough job of incorporating some exciting trigonometry, but I think the hook of this story is that There Are Things Out There That You Will Never Understand.

Pictured above: Two Flatlandian women. (Not joking. Women in Flatland are lines.)

Wouldn’t You Like To Know

The same way that Mr. A. Square is utterly confounded by the appearance of a sphere in his 2-dimensional universe, so too would we be confounded if we were to encounter a being from the 4th dimension here in our 3-dimensional universe. It’s like trying to imagine what’s inside a black hole; our brains simply can’t comprehend it.

If we did encounter such a creature, we might mistake its voice for a voice in our own heads — they might be able to speak directly inside of us.

We would only ever see a 3-dimensional cross-section of it; we couldn’t ever witness it in its entirety. Meaning we’d probably get to see its 4-dimensional kidneys.

It would seemingly be able to pop in and out of existence.

“And POOF! You can’t see me.”

No, It Wasn’t Carl Sagan’s Idea

My first exposure to Flatland came from the Cosmos TV series starring Carl Sagan, which rather brazenly recounts parts of the plot of Flatland and presents the concept in an easy-to-swallow way — it’s a lot more practical to discuss a 2-dimensional world if you have visual aids:

By understanding a 2-dimensional creature’s response to a 3-dimensional creature, we can extrapolate what it might be for we 3-dimensional beings to encounter a 4-dimensional being. At least sort of.

I think, more importantly, that it encourages us to come to terms with things that are beyond our comprehension. I don’t know where most people fall when it comes to solipsism — the philosophy that the self is all we can ever know — but I do recognize that it’s nearly impossible to fully understand another human being. We’re all a mess of memories and trauma and neurosis; guessing why anybody does anything can often seem like it’s beyond the wisdom of salmon.

I certainly don’t understand everybody. In a country as politically divided as the United States, it’s easy to look at other people and think, “Jesus Christ, what in the hell are they thinking?” My neighbor with a Trump flag on his F350 might not look like a 2-dimensional creature on the surface, but my understanding of him is much the same. He spends all his time moving back and forth in predictable patterns whilst ignoring what the rest of us see as obvious — all while keeping a weathered eye out for foreigners and grinding his teeth at property taxes.

Make America Literate Again

How Many Dimensions Are There, Really?

It stands to reason that if a being from a 2-dimensional reality can become aware of a 3-dimensional reality, and if we can sort of imagine a 4-dimensional reality, then there could be more dimensions. But how many are there? Oh, where is Neil Degrasse Tyson when you need him? Probably tweeting about how unrealistic Alien: Romulus is.

Anyway: String Theory suggests that there could be 11 dimensions in our universe — 10 spatial dimensions and one dimension of time. If you think it hurts your brain to imagine the 4th dimension, just try to imagine what sort of wackiness is going on in the 10th. (So many Trump flags!) All I can tell you is that string theorists predict these dimensions are all around us but too small for us to interact with.

Unable to grasp such scientific mumbo-jumbo? Try drugs. I hear they help.

Who Was Edwin “Don’t Make Me Repeat Myself” Abbott Abbott?

Here’s his torso.

Born in London at the start of the 19th century, Edwin Abbott Abbott became an educator at a young age after realizing how much he hated kids and desperately wanted to explain math to them. He was a homely fellow with a penchant for weak chins and was probably the sort of teacher that talked really quietly and then got mad when you couldn’t hear him from the back. “Maybe if you put your phone away my instructions would have been clearer, Beatrice.”

He wrote several books, but Flatland was easily his most notable.

Also notable: The word “Abbott” appears twice in his name because his parents were cousins. (Only partially joking.)

While Flatland may be seen as science fiction, many people call it “Mathematical Fiction.” It’s hard to imagine why that particular genre never really took off, but authors like Neal Stephenson are still miffed about it.

There goes Neal Stephenson in his steampunk hot air balloon.

Final Results

Given its relatively short length, I’d say Flatland is worth your time. You won’t be dazzled by the prose, and the plot is just as cohesive as Gulliver’s Travels (that is to say: mostly incoherent), but it’s an fun thought experiment and there really is some interesting math-related stuff. I particularly like the explanation of how fog makes it easier to discern who is who in Flatland.

It almost makes up for the casual sexism and xenophobia!

If you’re interested in what encountering creatures from other dimensions might actually be like, there are a few modern authors who are doing some good work in that area: “Superposition” by David Walton is about alien intelligence developing in quantum randomness, and the Southern Reach Trilogy (of which “Annihilation” is the first book) lives and breathes the confusion one would feel while encountering alien, extra-dimensional life.

The Remembrance of Earth’s Past is another great series that deals directly with extra dimensions. Mild spoilers: Dimensions are weaponized by ultra-intelligent aliens. Don’t like your 3D neighbors? Collapse them into 2D. Boom! Now your neighbors have literally been flattened.