Redwall Readthrough - Mossflower

Well, book one is in the bag, which means we're now onto book two of the Redwall series readthrough (and where it all started for me) - Mossflower.

For those who don't know, Redwall is a series of children's fantasy books by Brian Jacques famous for its use of anthropomorphic animals, good vs evil, and regional British dialects. It was hugely popular when I was a young 'un (the first book was published in 1986, the year of my birth); I do not know how popular they are now, nearly ten years after Jacques' death and the posthumous publication of the last book in the series. I probably discovered them when I was around 10; I was still joyfully enjoying being able to take the latest release from my uncles' bookshop for free in my late teens.

Obviously I am no longer in my teens, but now I am going to read them all again and share my thoughts. I appreciated Redwall more for being older - will that be true of Mossflower?

Mini-Review: Before there was Redwall, there was Mossflower...

The good animals of Mossflower Forest suffer under the ever increasing tyranny of the Greeneyes family of wildcats, rulers of Kotir castle. The spirit of rebellion waxes thick, but they don't have the forces to take on a trained army. Into this comes Martin the Warrior, a mouse without purpose; a wanderer, a born fighter, making his way south from the homeland that chewed his family up. Captured by Kotir's forces, he makes a friend and a vow. The friend is Gonff, the irrepresible thief and jokester from Mossflower; the vow is that he will kill the wildcat Tsarmina after she breaks his father's sword.

Naturally, Martin becomes part of the Mossflower resistance. But with it being clear only a bloody defeat awaits the path of open confrontation, they come up with a new plan - Martin must quest for Salamandstron, legendary home of the badger lords, and bring home Boar the Fighter, Mossflower's most warlike son. But doing so only exchanges one set of perils for another, and Martin's destiny is calling.

What do I recall thinking at the time: I'm not a huge book cover guy but I think I need to share this one:

Look at how green that is; it's primeveal. Look at how metal that ship is (not that I even knew what metal was then). It promises awesome.

I loved this book. I found it fresh off of Lord of the Rings and Warhammer and a diet of my father's history textbooks and Shakespeare texts; I was primed for tales of drama and high adventure, of men daring all a man should dare, of heroes vs monsters, of the touch of the unknown and the creeping nature of the sacred. Mossflower fucking delivered and more. 

Let me share a little about me. I'm a child of London through and through but my grandparents weren't. They were children of the English shires, from Northumberland to Essex, and they lived close to it when I was growing up - in Oxfordshire, in Chichester, in the Isle of Wight. My holidays were spent there, particularly the Island, making up stories as I roamed through woodland and over down, or walking up and down the creek at Shalfleet before going sailing. Those were the homelands of my imagination, those were the places that I felt I had some ancestral link to (particularly the Island, where I am related to far too many people I'd never even recognise now). 

Mossflower tapped right into young Peat's cravings; it was hooked up to the veins. And the cover tells the full story as to why. 

What do I think now: I half-joked the other day on Twitter that it seems like my reader superpower is to still enjoy the books I enjoyed twenty years ago. So many readers, particularly in the fantasy genre, say "oh I grew out of this" or "wow, it didn't age well". This strikes me as sad. Read as thou wilt, beautiful people, but the more books you love, the happier you are - insofar as we have the choice, we should still love the books we once did. That's why I think what we have is indeed a minor superpower - my changes mutate, but I rarely abandon the strands of taste that once existed. That and I'm rather good at ignoring things that will bring me no good if noticed and no ill if ignored.

So when I re-read Mossflower, part of me was still that little boy, and I still thought it was awesome.

The more adult me has a few more reservations but really can't fault the book for what it looks like it wants to do. It's an adventure story told in broad strokes, a rousing tale of friendship and bravery against great odds, a paradise of great food and laughter and beautiful places. It's not quite as magical to old me but there's some fine set-pieces - the running battles between the Otters and Squirrels with the Kotir soldiers, the Gloomer vs Stormfin, the Mask, the final duel between Martin and Tsarmina - and I was never bored. There's some choices that don't make sense but hey, it's a kid's book right?

Best Thing: I've mentioned the Mask once, so let me talk a little more about this hero. The Mask is a reclusive otter who's abandoned the riverdog life of swimming with the crew and instead spends his time mastering disguises of all natures. When a couple of young woodlanders are imprisoned, this comes in handy. His infiltration of the castle and subsequent escape are some of the book's best moments, by turns entertaining and gripping. Plus - for all that I am down with the bloodshed - it's nice to see that not all problems need be solved that way.

Other great things include the badgers - Bella of Brockhall is just a lovely no nonsense lady, while I love the concept of the badger lords in their lonely mountain by the sea, a fortress of destiny existing only to protect the lands around them; Gonff dancing with a crab; the existence of Gingivere, the nice Greeneyes (and undoubted ancestor of the wildcat in Redwall), and first sign that species does not always equate morality in this world; and Gonff making thievery seem fun and cool.

Worst Thing: This might seem a little choosy after enjoying the merciless pummeling handed out to Cluny, but it annoys me a little how easy the Mossflower fighters find life once they get going. The reason for that is we're told how difficult it will be and how much they need Boar and actually, it turns out to be super easy. Barely an inconvenience. Authors, you can do pretty much anything you like, as long as you don't lie about it. And since I still love the story, let's be real, you can get away with lying too.

Also annoying now - Martin and friends getting caught by some vermin because they didn't set a sentry; Gonff making thievery seem fun and cool. My parents once told me to keep all talk of wanting to learn how to pick locks to myself when visiting a friend, as his cousins were visiting and their dad was doing porridge for knowing similar things.

Hero Watch: As might be expected from the origin story of the abbey and it's patron warrior spirit, Martin is a fully fledged force of nature from the beginning who just gets better and better. It's a bit like watching Supermouse really, with the same charms and limitations. Although I do like the flash of temper that sees him promise to kill a creature just for breaking his sword. Well. 'Just'. It's the culmination of a chain of disrespect and danger from Tsarmina, who suggests he should be killed first, so I do kinda see it. Even so, I think Martin's got a great career in gangsta rap coming post-Abbey ghosting. Gonff is a great sidekick though - a constant source of bad jokes and good ideas.

Interestingly, while we see Jacques' liking for splitting the narrative between questing party and those at home, there's no central heroic figure for those left behind in Mossflower. 

Villain Watch: In comparison to Martin - who sounds like he grew up in a very bad neighbourhood - Tsarmina is a naive, privileged, incompetent, vicious ninny who only gains command after her father passes (with a little help) and who pisses the situation up the wall like the waster she is. It's an interesting contrast that in a more grown up book would have been made a lot more of, but it still works in the kid's edition. In classic villain fashion she goes through a ton of henchfolks, and there's a touching moment when the last of them puts her life first. There is no reward. Poor fool.

Incidentally, a shout out to old Verudaga Greeneyes for calmly listening to a mouse threaten his daughter with death and basically going "well, that seems fair enough". It's not every father who realises Personal isn't the same as Important, or maybe that he accidentally raised something that deserves death.

Other Notes: 

1) I haven't really commented on this yet, but the appearance of the refugee mice from Loamhedge Abbey (and founders of Redwall) do prompt me to ask a few meaningless questions about a) Where all these abbeys and churches are coming from in a world that never ever mentions God or any other deity and b) where are all these big mice populations that pump out enough spare mouths to have a bunch of celibates? Or are they actually celibate - the novice Columbine marries Gonff and has kids after all. But none of the others do. I'm so confused. And will remain confused because ultimately Jacques was too busy telling the story, which is fair.

2) I sometimes get a little conflicted about the difference between the snarling hatred the hares, otters, squirrels, and other such martial woodlanders feel for the vermin, and their insistence on humanitarian treatment for them once it's over. But then I remember that's probably how British servicemen would have described their experiences with Ze Germans, which must have been a fundamental part in Jacques' view of war and conflict.

3) This book has a key part in my lifelong ambition to have a pet otter (albeit an ambition I appreciate will probably never happen). They're the coolest, matey.