Dave’s Edit: I asked Caleb to write this because he was waxing lyrical about Watership Down on Twitter. I’m really interested in why people love the books they love, and this is one of the books that “everyone should read” that I haven’t read. It was turned into an animated film and part of the soundtrack charted for a while in the UK. The movie footage which accompanied the music was dark enough that it put me off reading the book as a kid.

Caleb originally had some words here explaining why he didn’t think he could, or should, write this. I feel if that if you love something, you’re eminently qualified to write about it.

The Book: Watership Down by Richard Adams

Review by Caleb Newell

As an awkward segue, that is roughly how this particular book begins: with characters being overwhelmed by a quest for which they were completely unprepared. The premise is simple enough: Spurred by a prophet’s word of impending doom on their warren, a small band of rabbits begin an exodus into a world that is far larger and more dangerous than they anticipated.

This story has all of the elements of your typical high fantasy epic. Even your cast of characters fit all of the classic archetypes of the genre. First, there is Fiver, the seer who serves as the catalyst of the story by giving them a reason to embark on the adventure. Then there is Hazel, the leader of the quest, who had the ability to persuade others to follow when Fiver could not. After that, there is Thlayli (“Bigwig”), the powerful warrior and protector; Blackberry, the inventor, which in this context equates to magician; Dandelion, the bard; Silver, the banished prince; Hawkbit, the simpleton and occasional mutineer; and Pipkin, the defenseless one. (I’m not really sure why so many stories need the proverbial cabin boy, but this is one of them.) And later in the story, Blackavar, the pariah. On the side we have Speedwell, Acorn, and Buckthorn, who mainly serve as rank-and-file soldiers.

But by making them rabbits, and placing them in our completely ordinary world (the locations in the story are actual places around Nuthanger [Editors note: Teehee] Farm), the story takes on a vastly different tone, as the solution to any problem must then be completely ordinary. There is no magic to summon here. Furthermore, the rabbits are not anthropomorphized at all. The only humanization that they are given is fact that they have a fully developed language and lore. Beyond that, their thought processes and intelligence are still purely rabbit, and Adams did a great deal of reading about rabbits in order to make this the case. Even Blackberry’s extraordinary wit peaks at his understanding that if something floats, it can be made to float again.

The social structures of the various warrens that Hazel & Co deserve some special attention. With the exception of Efrafa, all of them are still realistic as societies of rabbits, mainly being based on the availability of food and the physical strength of its inhabitants. The Sandleford warren, where the story begins, is described as a militaristic society, having a shortage of food and a sharp divide between the strong/elite (the Owsla, in the book’s Lapine vernacular). Then there is Cowslip’s warren, where an excess of food has made the idea of social tiers completely alien, and they have the liberty to think about things like art and architecture (though in this instance, that luxury came at a high price). These types of societies are completely believable even in a human context, but by simplifying them to the level of rabbits, we are afforded a very effective analysis of these social structures, and all of the benefits and drawbacks thereto. That is not to say that the book is some sort of high-minded or heavy-handed social commentary (although I’m sure someone has interpreted it as such). These warrens exist in the story only to influence the type of warren that Watership Down ultimately becomes. They provide lessons for Hazel on how to be a leader, and show him many pitfalls to avoid. And then there’s Efrafa, exemplifying a brand of fascism of which rabbits are clearly not capable, and yet in spite of fascism being an irreducibly complex structure, Watership Down still provides a masterful exploration of the subject.

In summary, this is a wonderfully complex tale with incredible characterization in a very rich, well-developed world. I haven’t even touched on the rabbits’ lore, but it’s such an integral part of the story and what shapes the characters, I honestly feel that it would rob from the book to have any of it explained without that context. But I suppose that is always the case. There is no substitute for reading the book yourself.

The Brew: …

Here is where things get difficult. I have little to no knowledge of any brewed beverage, let alone beer. As I don’t care for alcohol myself, I would have to go with either a tea or a coffee, but I am completely ignorant of the various types that exist in those categories. So all I can do is spell out the basis on which I would choose a beverage.

Watership Down is an autumn book. I have read very few books with as brilliant a color palette, for lack of a way to better express the concept. One chapter of the book is titled “Like Trees in November”, and I’ve never been sure why that chapter out of all the others stood out to me. This book is brilliant reds and oranges and subtle browns, with a few greens and that hazy blue of the sky in a September evening in New England. Any drink that could be paired with this book would have a taste reminiscent of that. I can imagine it. I just haven’t experienced it yet.

Dave’s Edit: For the colour patette alone, this has to be an ale. I’m going to suggest something like a Porter, which has the colour and depth of flavour we’re looking for. Or a cup of Whittard’s Russian Caravan tea, which has a smokey quality that makes it seem very autumnal.

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Caleb Newell is a nerd. A nerd who didn’t provide a short bio. Find his tweets here. Ask him why his handle is Priority and Default because none of us really know why. You can also find a few of his stories over at The Writer’s Arena.