Jackalope Is a Hoppin' Good Tale

I'm in a frosty state of mind right now as Erie shudders under the weight of four days' worth of snow. I have several solutions for counteracting this coldness: huddle under lots of cozy blankets, whip up a steaming mug of makeshift butterbeer and read books depicting a warm climate. Following this plan, then, I think I will leave Bear Snores On for another day. Instead, I'll peruse the pages of Jackalope, because the deserts of the American Southwest are a far cry indeed from the snow-laden streets of Pennsylvania.

This quirky tale was written by "two silly sisters," Janet Stevens (who also illustrated) and Susan Stevens Crummel. Its armadillo narrator references the authors at the very beginning and end of the book; the note on the inside flap indicates that this story grew out of the tales they heard of the mythical creature when they were growing up.

I've always found jackalopes rather charming if pointless creatures. They exist only post-mortem, since somebody got the brilliant idea to mount a pair of antlers on a stuffed hare's head. One tends to see these oddities in bars and taverns; I'm thinking that whoever came up with the concept might just have imbibed one too many. At any rate, Jackalope purports to tell of this mythical beast's origins, though as a story of explanation for an entire species, it falls flat since the tale indicates that only one ever existed, and he wasn't born that way.

As a morality tale, however, it makes sense and bears considerable resemblance to Gertrude McFuzz, Dr. Seuss's story about a vain bird getting more than she bargained for when she learns of a way to sprout extra feathers. In this case, the main character is a jackrabbit (who, for some reason that's never really explained in the story, wears enormous nerdy glasses). This furry fellow is tired of being overlooked; he wants to be so fierce that all his neighbors will fear him. But his faithful magic mirror insists that Jack just isn't the scary type. So Jack takes matters into his own paws and wishes, as fervently as he can, for a few extra features - like fangs, horns and claws.

This being a fairy tale, Jack's wishing is rewarded with an appearance by his fairy godrabbit, who can grant him any one of the things he asked for, but nothing more. So after deliberation, he settles on a pair of horns and is so eager to bask in the admiration of his fellow desert-dwellers that he doesn't bother to stick around for the disclaimer that lies will result in rapid horn growth. But those cumbersome antelope horns are quite the hindrance when a coyote shows up, eager for jackrabbit stew. How will Jack squirm his way out of this one?

The narrative voice is engaging, sounding like a grizzled old grandpa spitting tobacky from a rickety rocking chair out on the porch. (Actually, it's a lawn chair, according to the illustrations, but I like my rocking chair better...) The armadillo's appearance is enhanced with a pair of stylish black and gold cowboy boots and a brown cowboy hat. Jack is unclothed aside from the aforementioned glasses, which he stops wearing once he acquires the horns, but his fairy godrabbit wears a purple and green dress featuring a white skirt covered in a bright array of vegetables. While she claims to hate it, it's a very eye-catching garment, and I think it's lovely in its ludicrousness.

Breaking up the regular story, which is told in prose, are small sections of verse in the narrator's colloquial voice. You could almost read through just the poetic parts, skipping the paragraphs, and come up with a story that makes sense, but pretty significant gaps are filled with the prose part of the tale. The combination makes things interesting, and both styles are done skillfully enough that reading this book is enjoyable whichever style you prefer.

Jackalope is an offbeat and clever little tale. While it doesn't hold water as an explanation for an extinct species, it's does a perfectly good job of demonstrating the closing sentiment: "So when you're out gazing at night at the sky / And you happen to see the first star, / Why, don't you be wishing for something you're not - / It's better to be who you are!"