Thank all that is for my greatest gift: the ability to learn. Being human doesn't seem so bad compared to the animals of Brian Jacques' novels. I tried to read a story called "Outcast of Redwall." I normally can't stand Brian Jacques, for some reason, but with this story I really tried to make an exception.
It had a subplot naming the book that featured the son of the tyrant ferret warlord. [Ferret warlord, isn't that an oxymoron?] Raised by the caring hands of the Redwall Abbey, I watched this madman's son bite the hands that fed him, steal from the moment he could walk, resent being punished without regret, and finally exiled from the Abbey for trying to poison the ones who "hated him so much." And through all his loving, cared for childhood, not once did he ask, "Why is it so wrong that I steal?"
He could not learn, and now that I think about it, neither can any of the characters. Some are blessed with a kind nature, but woe to be the one who is born ferret, rat or fox, because they will never be able to live productive, strong lives. Woe to be a mouse or a squirrel, forever subordinate and quiet, unable to even comprehend the magnitude of others' evil. Woe to be a badger, driven from birth by destiny and need to become great leaders, taking on the weight of the world and never allowed to be well... people. Woe to be a mole, or a hedgehog, forced to be nothing more than people, cultural side-shows, never given any ambition nor stimulation.
I think the vermin are the worst off. Compassion is forever banned their innocent souls, morals unreachable, values set at birth to destroy the ones they love. Brian Jacques is truly a cruel author.
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