Wilhelm, the Hedgehog

The hedgehog is such a quintessentially European animal (although species do exist in Asia and Africa), and this certainly feels like a quintessentially a European book in its subtle, not to say oblique, take on finding out something new and relying on friends to help do it. Originally published in the Ukraine in 2016, the story is dedicated to the Ukrainian-Polish artist Wilhelm Kotarbinski. His name inspired a tale about trying to see the world differently.

Wilhelm was born on the border between Light and twilight.

You know? It happens when it is either evening or morning.

Or before the rain. When the darkness cannot yet be called final.

But a last bit of Light remains.

This stream-of-consciousness text continues to tell us how Wilhelm, by nature a nocturnal animal, wants to stay awake to see the daylight. He is given advice and support by a watchful crow, a flock of pigeons who cannot pronounce the letter ‘r’, and an excitable squirrel.

“What are you going to do?” asked the pigeons when Wilhelm had

almost finished eating. In order not to confuse him, they carefully avoided

words with ‘r’.

“I will look for the beginning of the Light,” said the hedgehog shyly.

The pigeons smiled. Well, is there anyone in this world who does

not know the Light first appear in the morning?

Apparently, Wilhelm is one who not clear on this concept. The convoluted story continues: the crow brings Wilhelm a shiny piece of glass, and the squirrel waves a newspaper around announcing he has some news to tell them all, and the pigeons coo protectively, all while Wilhelm stumbles along eating and sleeping and thinking about the Light.

Spring turns to summer, then to fall.

The leaves on the trees began to turn golden.

Everything seemed flooded with sunlight.

But the hedgehog already knew that it was an illusion.

Because the less heat, the longer the night.

It is time now for Wilhelm to hibernate. But before he nods off completely for the winter season, his forest friends have a surprise for him. They set an alarm clock to go off at just the right time for him to see the sunrise. It is a wonderful revelation.

“Light is friends. And dreams. And joy. And love.”

Now Wilhelm knew that he was finally ready to sleep

soundly through the winter.

Wilhelm, the Hedgehog is more of an illustrated storybook than a picture book for young children as the pages are text-heavy and the book is divided into chapters with headings such as ‘Food’ and ‘Search’. The story is crowded with dream-like phrases and shifts in subject that I found confusing. The attempt to replicate the pigeons’ speech impediment (“…Light is alwwweady there evewwwy day” and “Thewwwe is nothing surpwwwsing”) is a cartoonish distraction. It seems that the author is as much interested in playing with language as in the drama of a plot. That the story is a translation makes it that much more curious an exercise.

Artist Sarvira has used forest tones of deep green, tan and sienna in her line drawings of all the engaging wild creatures and for the many abstracted plants and buildings in the background. The pleasant pictures are more successful than the words.

The publisher’s blurb describes Wilhelm, the Hedgehog as “a charming tale about being yourself, following your dreams, and about the friends who help you”, but I judge that this unusual book would be a hard sell for teachers and librarians.

(A portion of the proceeds from the sale of the book, which has been reissued in Canada by small Newfoundland and Labrador publisher Running the Goat Books and Broadsides, and translated by a Ukrainian translator living in St. John’s, will be donated to the United Nations High Commission for Refugees).