Like so many children, I adored the animated film version of The Rescuers, and watched it over and over again. When I began to explain the story to my boyfriend, who had never seen it, he thought it sounded a little bizarre for an adult to read. Regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, and found The Rescuers just as charming as I expected to. What I was not expecting, however, was the wonderful humour which suffuses the piece, and quite the level of imagination which has been woven into it.
The Rescuers, which was first published in 1959, is the first book in a series. The primary storyline of this initial volume is that a series of innovative mice, all of whom are members of the Prisoners' Aid Society, decide to rescue a Norwegian poet who has been imprisoned. They undertake 'a mission to recruit the bravest mouse they can find - someone who can outwit the fearsome jailer and avoid the jaws of his cruel cat.' The Black Castle, in which the man finds himself, is windowless and imposing.
The Rescuers is filled with any amount of darling details; brave mice receive the 'Jean Fromage' award, and the chairwoman of the Prisoners' Aid Society is 'descended in a direct line from the senior of the Three Blind Mice'. She recruits a brave mouse named Bernard to find Miss Bianca, who belongs to the son of an Ambassador, to head the mission; it is thought that this revered mouse 'lived in a porcelain pagoda: that she fed exclusively on cream cheese from a silver bonbon dish: that she wore a silver chain round her neck, and on Sundays a gold one.'
I am surprised that I did not read this as a child, drawn as I was to books featuring adventurous talking animals, from The Chronicles of Narnia (which, incidentally, has its own fearsome mouse, named Reepicheep) and The Incredible Journey, to several series focusing on myriad creatures by the likes of Lucy Daniels and Dick King-Smith. I would have been absolutely enchanted by The Rescuers as a child, and must admit that I rather am as an adult.