BOOKWAVES (Words on Books) for KZYX

by Tony Miksak

Pigs are in the news. A Chronicle headline reads: "Piggy that escaped on Bay Bridge reclaimed by its plumber."

It's amazing how many books have been written starring pigs. There's Charlotte's Web by E. B. White and the Freddy the Pig series of 26 novels by Walter R. Brooks. Dick King-Smith wrote Babe, The Gallant Pig about a sheep-herding pig who later starred in his own movie, and he also wrote Ace, The Very Important Pig about Babe's great-grandson.

The Charlotte in Charlotte's Web is a large gray spider. But her best friend is Wilbur, a young, pink pig.

I'm most excited about Freddy, a smart, poetic, sensitive and talking pig who was the star of my eleventh summer. That year I discovered the Freddy the Pig books in the West Portal Branch of the San Francisco Public Library, and devoured them, one after another, all summer, sitting on our living room couch with a bright light at my left elbow and a picture window view of San Francisco at my feet. It was a great summer.

Pigs are very smart. They find buried sewer pipes and root out truffles. Pigs love the finer things in life but happily ingest anything that smells. Charlotte's friend Wilbur liked to eat slops consisting of "skim milk, wheat middlings, leftover pancakes, half a doughnut, the rind of a summer squash, two pieces of stale toast, a third of a gingersnap, a fish tail, a strip of paper from the lining of the garbage pail, and a spoonful of raspberry jello." Yum!

"Pig" is the term used by farmers to designate a young hog, or swine. They are native to the Old World, like some of us people. A truly native swine would be the peccary, found in deserts and rain forests in the Americas. It was Columbus who first brought the Old World hog to America on his second voyage in 1493.

Pigs used to be raised on family farms. Only in the past few decades have most been scientifically farmed in huge factory lots. In these scientific places the pigs' every need is catered to, except they never feel the warm sunshine on their pink hides. They certainly are not allowed to walk free, or turn somersaults, nor root around under the snow for sewer pipes, or snuffle up a couple of fallen acorns. They are fed on antibiotics, vitamins, hormones and other unappetizing stuff while their waste is swished away and the ambient temperature is controlled year round. If you knew Freddy the Pig you'd feel this is very, very sad. And if you were Freddy the Pig you'd invent a way to do something about it.

Freddy the Pig can read and write. He's a true auto-didact. (He even has a website!) In fact, he's the only animal on Mr. Bean's farm who has read an entire book, a collection of Sherlock Holmes tales. Freddy starts a detective agency and proceeds to solve the Case of the Armored Train, the Case of Prinny's Dinner, and the Mystery of Egbert, among others.

One of the beauties of Walter Brooks' Freddy books is that all the animals remain true to their various natures while reflecting the foibles of humans. It's very funny as well as poignant in Freddy Goes to Florida when Clarence -- the literally hen-pecked rooster -- calls a meeting in the barn after talking to an itinerant swallow. After some discussion the animals vote to migrate south, like birds.

"The barn-yard was silent as they formed in a line and marched out through the gate into the road that stretched away like a long, white ribbon to far distant Florida. First came Jinx (the cat) with his tail held straight up in the air like a drum-major's stick. Then came Freddy, the pig, and the dog, Robert, who was Jock's younger brother. After them marched Hank (the horse) and Mrs. Wiggins (the cow), and the procession was brought up by the two white ducks, Alice and Emma, who were sisters. The mice – Eek, Quik, Eeny and Cousin Augustus, ran along the side of the road so as not to be stepped on."

Re-reading some Freddy the Pig tales after forty years I find they have lost none of their charm and interest. They're even better now. In Freddy's books it's a much more innocent world and bad guys do not win.

Even now when I dream of the world the way it's supposed to be I am thinking of Freddy and the other animals on Mr. Bean's farm, and Wilbur on Mr. Zuckerman's farm, and Ace and Babe living under the protection of the ever-amazed Farmer Tubbs. Maybe there ARE places in the world where animals talk and -- sometimes -- people listen. At least I hope so.

aired Thursday January 8, 1998 at 9:32 am

feedback to Tony! : : Gallery Bookshop home page : : Tony's Writings