How the Heather Looks: A Joyous Journey to the British Sources of Children’s Books by Joan Bodger

 

Reviewed by Jeanne

Many, many years ago, a fellow librarian encouraged me to read How the Heather Looks if I had any interest in children’s literature.  The library had a copy, so I promptly checked it out.  In the late 1950s, author Bodger and her husband took their young son Ian and toddler daughter Lucy to England in search of the sites in the books they loved.  Remember, this is pre-internet; no googling places or making reservations online.  Instead, they rented a car and set out, poring over maps, and hoping to find places to stay as they go along. 

What they do have is a deep love and knowledge of books.  Winnie the Pooh and Wind in the Willows, of course, but also Puck of Pook’s Hill, Swallows and Amazons, and several others that I recognized but couldn’t quite remember, such as Johnny Crow’s Garden.  Of course, there are also references to British history, to King Arthur, Robin Hood, and a host of other familiar characters.

They prepared as best they could, by researching the areas they wanted to visit in part by finding where the authors lived on the premise that the artists and illustrators would have used the places that inspired the authors. The hope that the locals would be able to fill in the information proved wildly optimistic: in a town where he lived and worked, no one seems to know Randolph Caldecott.  That’s not to say the people they meet are inhospitable; most are quite kind, even if they think these Americans are quite daft.

While they may not find exactly what they are looking for and sometimes pass places they later discover would have been sites they loved, they go with such hopes, joy, and innocence that I was utterly charmed.  Most of all, these are people who love books. Their enthusiasm has made me want to go pick up books I hadn’t read in years and even to seek books I’ve never read.

Even with set-backs like rainy weather or missed turns, they never lose their enthusiasm. They even have some amazing instances of good luck as when they write to A.A. Milne’s widow and are invited for a visit.

For me, this is an absolute charmer of a book, a love letter to both literature and to England. I have to admit that when I read it long, long ago, I dimly remember being disappointed at all the things they set out to find and didn’t.  This time around, I was more attuned to the things they did find, especially some that they weren’t actually looking for.  Sometimes it IS more about the journey than the destination.

And now I have the urge to re-read Wind in the Willows.