He’s one of the best-known figures in children’s literature—but Michael Rosen’s latest book is for adults. He spoke to Reader's Digest about politics, underpants and the secret life of his hero.

Michael Rosen is giving me a vocabulary lesson. I’m trying to pronounce “Émile Zola”, but in my blunt English accent it’ll only come out as “Em-eel Zo-lah”. Not satisfied with simply helping me to pronounce it in French—“Emeel Zowla”—he has moved onto the Italian, “Emill Zzola”.

Spending time with the former children’s laureate has the nostalgic air of a private lesson with your favourite teacher. When he’s finished his perfect pronunciation, Michael quips, “Of course, my Italian’s not very good—except for saying, ‘With mushrooms, please’.”

I try again. With a small sigh he concedes, “Well, in English we can just say, ‘Emil Zowlah’. ”

Despite looking exactly like the Quentin Blake characters that populate many of his children’s stories (of which there are more than 100), in the flesh Michael is far less animated than you might imagine. He quietly takes a seat opposite me, gathering up his sprawling limbs until he looks the very image of Rodin’s The Thinker.

Known the world over for his beloved children’s book, We’re Going On a Bear Hunt—which hasn’t been out of print since its first publication 27 years ago—Michael’s latest project is something of a departure from his usual style.

Written for adults, The Disappearance of Émile Zola is the riveting true account of a lost period in the life of one of France’s most famous writers. Émile Zola was the pioneer of naturalism and author of Germinal and La Bête Humaine. Michael follows the years in which Zola fled his homeland and sought refuge in South London, having spoken out against a case of anti-Semitic injustice that went to the core of the French government.

"I think art does have something to say to politics, about politics. Artists have an ear to the pulse of humanity"

“I knew his novels, I’d seen the films and I was reading on the internet when I realised that he’d come to England. I thought, Really? Zola in England? That seems so incongruous. This is the novelist of the lower classes and miners and steamy affairs—and here he was trogging about in South London. I suddenly thought, This is an extraordinary story.”

It’s one made all the more fascinating through its parallels with the present day. Before Zola leaves France, crowds gather to chant, “Go back to Venice. Go back to the Jews.” In the wake of migration, Brexit and reports of racism on the rise in Britain, it’s clear that Zola’s world wasn’t too far removed from our own.

“You only have to listen to the news each morning!” Michael exclaims, arms gesturing fervidly. “Today we have the Casey Report [an independent review for the government written by Dame Louise Casey, which looked into integration] accusing one group [Britain’s Muslim population] of being segregated at a time when we have many segregations in society. Casey could just have easily raised financial inequality, but she didn’t. I feel very uneasy when that sort of thing goes on.”

Politics has been a lifelong passion for Michael, and one that’s landed him in trouble more than once. Fired and blacklisted by the BBC back in 1972 because of his outspoken Marxist views, he’s no stranger to the kind of political discrimination faced by Émile Zola over a century ago.

“I think art has something to say to politics, about politics. And it’s not a bad idea to listen, because quite often artists have an ear to the pulse of humanity, rather than, say, the bureaucratic needs of how we can marshal different groups of people.”



Michael Rosen reads from We're Going on a Bear Hunt. Image via Seven Stories

Of course, no Michael Rosen project would be complete without a little silliness—this is the author of such titles as Fluff the Farting Fish after all. Even in this ostensibly depressing tale, there are moments of laugh-out-loud comedy.

“He didn’t have any underpants!” Michael cries as we discuss Zola’s first days in England. Having arrived with nothing more than a nightshirt, he went from store to store miming his way to a new wardrobe.

“He was able to mime for socks, and does exactly what my mum used to do, which is put your fist down and measure round it. Somehow or other, perhaps he was just self conscious, he couldn’t point to his…underneath.” Michael pauses to gesture downward, clearly as self-conscious as Zola.

It’s obvious as we’re talking just how much research this project required. At 70, Michael is still a prolific worker. It’s a rare day when he doesn’t have at least one novel or poetry collection on the go.