A narcissistic Wolf King insists that rabbits don’t exist in this allegory.
Originally published in England in 2001 and in North America for the first time with this edition, author/playwright/poet/essayist Dorfman’s story speaks clearly today. The book’s small trim and the abundant, adroit black-and-white illustrations throughout point to an audience of children. But the story, that of a ruthless, ignorant, vain Wolf King, who, after conquering the “land of the rabbits,” announces that rabbits have ceased to exist (even though they haven’t), works on a second level as well. On the surface, the story is amusing. Despite the King’s insistence that there are no rabbits, the photographs that he has hired an elderly monkey photographer to take in order to record “each important act in my life” (“and all my acts…are supremely important,” he states) turn out to have rabbits peeking slyly from the margins. Even as the Wolf King goes to ever crueler lengths to assert his kingly authority and to have grander and tougher-appearing photos of himself circulated, the rabbits in the photos become more numerous and bolder. The exhausted monkey, bullied by the King’s counsellor, tries vainly to erase all the rabbits. The adults in the story obey in fear, but the daughter of the elderly monkey speaks the truth about rabbits: “Everybody knows they exist.”
A wickedly funny allegory for today’s post-truth era.
(Fantasy. 4-10)