The recent computer-generated animation movie version of Peter Rabbit sparked considerable discussion, and not all of it positive. While I haven’t personally seen the film, the controversy surrounding a particular scene has certainly caught my attention. Many parents have voiced concerns regarding the inclusion of a scene where Mr. McGregor, who is allergic to blueberries, is intentionally attacked with the food, triggering anaphylaxis. This has understandably caused distress among families dealing with food allergies, highlighting a perceived lack of sensitivity in the movie’s portrayal.
Instead of dwelling on this contentious aspect, it’s more insightful to consider Glenn Kenny’s review in The New York Times. Despite the review’s title, Kenny seems to miss the essence of Beatrix Potter’s original story, particularly its departure from pure “sweetness and light.” This prompts a re-examination of Potter’s nuanced tale of childhood anxieties and disobedience, crafted by a remarkable writer, artist, and naturalist.
Kenny notes that the movie quickly abandons the “sweetness and light and lyricism” found in Beatrix Potter’s books. Lyricism, absolutely. But “sweetness and light”? Let’s revisit the original narrative. The mother rabbit explicitly warns her children, Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter, to steer clear of Mr. McGregor’s garden, reminding them of their father’s grim fate: he “had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor.”
While Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail heed their mother’s warning, Peter, described as “naughty,” ventures into the forbidden garden. This is more than mere naughtiness; it’s a life-risking act driven by the desire for lettuce, French beans, and radishes – and in the illustration, a carrot. His indulgence leads to sickness, and unlike the caterpillar’s transformative hunger, Peter seeks parsley for relief. He is then pursued by Farmer McGregor and becomes “most dreadfully frightened.” His new jacket is damaged, and “Peter gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears…” In the story’s conclusion, his mother offers “comfort” in the form of chamomile tea but withholds sympathy.
Her reaction, from an adult perspective, is arguably sensible compassion. Peter could have easily ended up in a pie, and a crucial life lesson needed reinforcement. Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, in contrast, are rewarded for their obedience with bread, milk, and blackberries – rabbit junk food, perhaps, but rewards nonetheless. The phrase “sweetness and light” hardly encapsulates these events. For a child, Peter’s mother’s lack of overt sympathy might seem unfair, yet this very complexity, coupled with Potter’s exquisite illustrations, is what makes her tales resonate with both children and adults.
To gain a deeper appreciation of Potter’s genius and her childhood solitude, Jeanette Winter’s book, Beatrix, is highly recommended. This child-friendly biography incorporates excerpts from Potter’s letters and journals within Winter’s narrative, accompanied by illustrations portraying a somber, introspective child finding solace in nature and her artistic talent.
The book shares poignant quotes from Potter:
“The lonely days have begun. No one has time for me. I talk to the birds, who have the time.”
“I live so much out of the world. Will I ever be connected?”
“I have just made stories to please myself because I never grew up!”
“It is something to have little money. The little books are quite successful.”
Winter, known for her honest portrayals for young readers, acknowledges the loneliness that can accompany genius and the necessity of earning a living. Her vibrant, woodblock-style illustrations depict Potter’s journey toward achievement and professional fulfillment, presenting an encouraging view of childhood eccentricity and its potential benefits. While the Peter Rabbit movie may have missed the mark for some, both Potter’s original book and Winter’s biography offer children visual beauty and intelligent narratives about significant life experiences.
