Finland and Trolls

A recent lack of posts has been caused by the sunshine. All sun and no rain means no time spent watching or reading things inside, therefore no fodder for the blog!

One thing I have managed to read - in the sunshine - is a children’s book I grew up with: Finn Family Moomintroll.

In the pejorative and non-derogatory sense I hear many of you shout "moomins? Pff... gay!"

This reaction will have been caused in no small part by the cartoon which - while an affectionate adaptation - had the soppiest theme music ever conceived. This might be because it’s translated from Japanese; this is rarely a recipe for decent lyrics (remember Mr Sparkle).

Anyway, they are great books and they express a wonder and fascination with the natural environment that is often lost when we grow up.

Lonely island

The author Tove Jansson was Finnish. Finland seems like an inspirational country with its myriad lakes and stark contrasts in scenery brought with the emphatic seasons. If you also look at the fact Tove lived on a tiny island in the sea with her partner and no one else half the time, there's even more nature to write/draw about; not to mention no distractions. Moomin papa's obsession with boats and the family's collective exploration of uninhabited islands clearly draws from this too.

Child's eye view on nature

Wonder, is a weird word, probably quite an uncool word really because it implies naivety and a lack of understanding. But that's what these books have and have in such quantity that they impart some of it when read.

On one adventure Moomin Troll finds a hobgoblin's hat on top of a mountain. Anything that goes in the hat changes. It turns water into raspberry juice and eggshells into clouds you can sit on and maneuver, flying through the air. What child wouldn't want one of those?!

On another adventure they sail to a lonely island. There the mysterious hattifatteners arrive in the night, they look like skinny pacman ghosts and travel the globe in search of lightning storms, they can't hear, have no mouths and can electrocute you when electrically charged.

These are a couple of examples of the nutty things that happen in this world. There's the feeling that something amazing and weird is always about to happen.

Ignorance or innocence 

This is my question: Does knowing more about the world dull that sense of wonder? I find the science I've learnt fascinating but does the constant pursuit of quantifying nature take a bit of the romance out of it.

When you stare into an abyss that you can't see the bottom of, do you want to be told exactly how deep it is and what's at the bottom? Or does the unknown and the scope of the imagination make it more interesting as an enigma?

This is down to your personality I suppose. But I quite like the question marks... sometimes.*

Two types of nature explorer

These different points of view are personified in characters in the book. The Hemulen gets a bit of a ruff deal (he wears a dress for god's sake!) but is the nerd, the twitcher, the botanist and the literal stamp collector. Here's an extract from the book that illustrates what I'm on about:

"They were not like the flowers that grew in Moomin Valley - oh far from it! Heavy, silvery-white clusters which looked as if they were made of glass; crimson-black kingcups like royal crowns, and sky-blue roses. But the Hemulen didn't see much of their beauty - he was too busy counting the stamens and leaves, and muttering to himself: 'This is the 219th specimen in my collection!'"

At odds with this and easily the coolest character is Snufkin. Always on the lookout for adventure he sometimes likes to be by himself and casts his eyes to the horizon often when he is filled with familiar wanderlust. Moomin Troll looks up to him and they are great friends, but you imagine he plays his mouth organ with a certain degree of melancholy when he is alone or stopping under a tree on the road to nowhere.

If this is all making you feel a bit nauseous you have my apologies. Anyway I feel like the point has sort of been made now.

* That being said knowing the names of plants and animals and more about their ecology makes walking a lot more interesting. Things stand out and excite you when you know they're rare. This sort of negates the point I know, but the occasional unknown can be charismatic. Everything in balance.