The Wordpile

The Bottom Shelf: One Hundred and One Dalmations October 18, 2009

Author: Dodie Smith

Title: One Hundred and One Dalmatians

Age Range: 10-14

Genre: Adventure, Intelligent Animals

 

 
There was a time when ‘Intelligent Animal’ wasn’t really a genre: just an occasionally appealing quirk of children’s writers. Redwall doesn’t really count – that’s animals substituting for humans. However, there have been so many popular series lately that do qualify, covering such a range of ages and reading tastes – Warriors, by Erin Hunter, Seeker by the same, Guardians of Ga’Hoole by Kathryn Lasky, the Silverwing Trilogy by Kenneth Oppel, plus more and more single book examples – that I think this is now at least a fantasy subgenre. This review’s featured title could well be considered one of its early giants – though many people have forgotten there was a book. Unlike some of Disney’s sources of inspiration, such as the Jungle Book, the original One Hundred and One Dalmatians didn’t have the fame to compete with the animated title, not to mention the various other movie versions made since. It took me completely by surprise when I discovered its existence back in sixth grade. But I tried it, and discovered that while not much like The Jungle Book, in one way both books are the same. When compared to their animated counterparts, both books are far more intelligent and worthwhile. The Jungle Book can be a bit much for younger readers, but One Hundred and One Dalmatians is absolutely accessible, and its relative obscurity makes it prime material for this series.

The most important thing is not to compare this wonderful, charming, somehow gently English book with any of the movies made on it. It would be simply wrong. The style, the atmosphere, the characters – all are different in very meaningful ways. Most books that use ‘intelligent pets’ as main characters have a certain patronizing air for the animal’s limited views and their bewildered attempts to understand our big, confusing human world. But this book is just the opposite – if anyone is being patronized, it’s the humans, though there is such warmth and fondness shown for their well meaning pets that it’s hard to be insulted (the book explains that of course the humans are the dog’s pets, but the dogs find it very charming that humans don’t realize it, and prefer not to disillusion them). Throughout it all, the book shows only humble respect for its dog characters – we are meant to admire them, rather than laugh at their attempts to explain human things. There is next to no time spent on the romantic meeting of the double pair, and quite a bit on the birth and initial raising of the puppies, complete with some very interesting, clearly well authenticated insights into the process, including the revelation that one dog mother cannot nurse fifteen puppies without becoming emaciated. Perdita is the name, not of Mrs. Pongo, but of the foster mother found and brought in by Mrs. Dearly to help (Pongo’s wife is called Missus). Cruella De Vil’s character and involvement are far more artfully portrayed that any of the movies, who always give her a sort of simple cruel greed that is not a patch on the book, with its far more subtle but ultimately more impression making description of her addiction to heat and flames: she married a furrier, keeps the best central heating turned up even in summer, and puts so much pepper in all her food that it is the only taste discernible. Her obsession with furs is merely a side effect of this – but thanks to her utter lack of value for animal life, and the fact that she is rich, this becomes very dangerous indeed. She meets them first when they’ve only just discovered that Missus is pregnant. She seems most interested in the dogs, speaking of how well they would go as evening dress, invites them to dinner, and proceeds to stay in touch. For a while, she is just an occasional intruding dark spot in a very happy, puppy-full house. And then one day, Nanny Butler (as opposed to Nanny Cook – there are two) is kept in a long talk with Cruella in the drawing room, and goes back to find the pups gone. Panic ensues. The Dearly’s call on every human resource they can, but in the end, this is nothing on the dogs Twilight Barking network. For weeks, Pongo and Missus Pongo put out the word, halting all gossip with the emergency ‘Help, help, help’ signal, spreading the news of their missing pups from dog to dog across England, and waiting for the returning signals. And then finally, it happens. A old sheepdog confirms the location of their pups in an old mansion nearby called Hell Hall. And so – after some debate – they set out, leaving Perdita to keep their pets company. We’re given their journey in quite a bit of detail, shown how the entire route is planned for them by the Twilight Barking Network – directions, places to rest, and food to eat. The cohesion, fellowship, and capacity of the Network and all the other dogs they meet plays a major role for the journey in both directions, as does Pongo’s own formidable intelligence. The rescue would not have been possible without the Sheepdogs planning capabilities and thorough scoping of Hell Hall, and the provisions made every step of the way – even those not directly involved know to watch out for the Missing Dalmatians. But in the end, of course, something must be done to ensure Cruella can never begin such a scheme again – and Pongo is just the dog for the job.

There is a very warm atmosphere to this book that cannot easily be described. Suffice to say that the characters and presentation are delightful, and make this a very enjoyable choice for younger readers. While not much resembling its movie in style, it was picked for a reason: it is a true classic. Until next time, enjoy the bottom shelves.

 

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