By now you should know that Grug books are one of my favourite series that are supposedly for children. It doesn’t matter what Grug gets up to; Mum and I always want to know about it. So, today Grug decided to go shopping and in his travels he came across a playground.
Being a curious animal that began his life as the top of a Burrawong tree, Grug is always keen to explore his surroundings. Naturally, upon discovering the playground Grug investigates. What follows is a cross between a comedy of errors and a whirlwind exploration of all the playground has on offer.
While I love all Grug books I did wish Grug’s best friend Cara was in this one. I adore Cara. I could imagine the expressions on her face as Grug flew through the air between each piece of equipment but wondered if she would have joined in or watched from the sidelines.
This is one of the earliest Grug books so the playground equipment actually looks like some of the slides and swings that made up a pretty significant chunk of my childhood. I got all nostalgic looking at the illustrations of Grug’s playground equipment so my review will now morph into me reminiscing about the good ol’ days.
My favourite thing to navigate at the park was this ugly but incredibly fun chunk of climbing heaven that consisted of four huge wooden frames that supported and held together four tyre bridges that were all connected by chains. There were no steps or easy access so you had to find a way to climb up this monstrosity that was probably built by an awesome bunch of local dads.
Some of the tyres weren’t quite as connected to the chains as they should have been. Half of the fun was knowing which tyres posed the biggest challenges and working out how to get past them without falling several metres to the very hard ground below. I’m fairly sure this type of fun would be banned by the safety police these days but it was brilliant!
Fun Fact: I was trying to think of the way to describe the metal climbing frame elephant that Grug encounters in this book so naturally I asked Google. When I came across a picture that was the closest to what I was looking for and that most resembled what I used to play on as a kid in the local park, the description accompanying the photograph included the word vintage. So apparently I’m now old enough for my childhood to be vintage. That’s fun! Sort of … 😜
Daughter loves playground, Grug discovers a playground. But his mum is not there to prevent accidents from happening so he comes out thinking it’s a dangerous place to be. I wish my daughter felt that way too so I didn’t have to spend hours everyday watching her go down the slides.
The protagonist feels his isolation sharply, as his usual contentment is unsettled by a spontaneous visit to the playground. Bereft of children or his friend Cara, Grug navigates the playground equipment alone. His initial courage dissipates swiftly with the speed of his descent down the slide, a clear comment on our human fragility, so easily assailed by unpleasantly surprising dips in fortune. Further circumstances set up a chain of events, in which Grug's near-calamitous moments on the swing, roundabout and climbing-frame. These show him cast adrift and spinning through negative space, only to be flung, caged, into the symbolic form of the elephant climbing-fort, its bars strongly suggestive of bones. It seems that Grug's true purpose, once again, has been to come face to face with the inebpvitability of death, an irony keenly felt by our ageless furry hero, whose longevity continues to stave off the ageing process, trapping our hero in an eternally youthful quest for ways to struggle with the human condition. This vignette exacerbates Grug's perpetual state of realisation, as the inherent violence and disappointment of the playground provide a poignant setting for his recurring experience of alienation.