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The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame, has always seemed to me to be a highly improbable book. It shouldn't work. The animal characters are sometimes animals, sometimes animals in human clothes, and sometimes human in all but skin. The adventures are at once mundane and outlandish. The story telling is at once childish and worldly. But it all works. It's funny, it's touching, it's light, it's deep. It is simply a wonderful story, beautifully told.
What I've read of its beginnings leads me to think that the existence of the book is even more improbable than even the content, but despite poor reviews when first released, it sold well - and continues to do so. Of all the books I know, I would be hard pressed to give you another example that has survived the passing of years as well as this one. This has not become a historical curiosity, of interest only to those that like old literature. This is still the wonderful tale it was when it first appeared to the world, and for all the same reasons.
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