Martin's Mice Book

In one of his more thoughtful novels, Dick King-Smith looks at the fine line between friendship and possessiveness...and how we react to learning uncomfortable truths about ourselves. Cats are found on almost any farm, but not cats like Martin. Unlike his brother Robin and sister Lark, Martin hates harming mice, those dear, pretty creatures. His mother, Dulcie Maude, strictly insists he eat the mice she catches for Martin and his siblings, but swallowing the flesh of dead mice sickens him and breaks his heart. How glad he is when Dulcie Maude stops hunting for her children, declaring they're ready to fend for themselves. Martin subsists on cat food put out by the farmer's wife, but doesn't forget about mice entirely. Humans have pets, such as the white rabbits the farmer's daughter owns in hutches by the garden. Could Martin catch a mouse and keep it as a pet? A bold choice for a cat, but Martin isn't like other felines. So he sets out to acquire a pet mouse.

With little effort Martin nabs a mouse named Drusilla and plops her into an old bathtub in the loft over the cart-shed. The mouse is terrified, but safe from Robin, Lark, and Dulcie Maude; mice don't normally inhabit the loft, so the cats never hunt here. Drusilla is pregnant and hungry, so Martin inquires around the farm as to what mice eat. He brings suitable food to the tub, and gathers more at an elevated rate once Drusilla's tiny pink children are born, but Martin can only do so much to keep her happy as long as she's restricted to the tub. A tough alley cat comes along and tries to eat her, but Martin fights back despite his lack of physical prowess. He adores Drusilla and her young ones and won't let anything befall them if he can prevent it. He even corrals a buck to keep Drusilla company and produce more mice. He'd love to keep them all in the tub as his pets for always.

Martin occasionally trusts Drusilla, Cuthbert (her buck), and their mouse cubs outside the tub, but one day they escape. Martin puts out a plea via the farm animals for Drusilla and family to return, but as fond as she's grown of Martin, she firmly declines. She's afraid he'll dump her back in the tub, and that's no life for a wild mouse. Drusilla wants to be free to raise children and send them into the world, then begin the process all over. Martin vows not to put her in the tub, but Drusilla isn't taking any chances. Martin is sad he'll never see his pet again, but he embarks on his own adventure of captivity when he's purchased by a woman from town whose over-the-top affections stifle Martin. Is this how Drusilla felt, subject to the whims and confinement of an owner incapable of empathizing? She may still want nothing to do with Martin if he escapes and finds his way back to the farm, but he's determined to show Drusilla he's a changed cat. What would a happy ending look like for Martin, Drusilla, and her ever-expanding family?

This book offers perhaps more food for thought than I can digest in a single reading. Being Martin's pet in the tub would likely mean a lifetime of free food for Drusilla, Cuthbert, and generations of their descendants, as well as security from the deadly dangers most mice face. Martin can't guarantee his mother, siblings, or another cat won't wander into the loft and gobble his pets, but they're safer here than around the farm. Is Martin's provision a good thing, though? If anyone promises to shield us from hardship as long as we surrender control of our lives to them, is it mercy or captivity, as surely as if we were trapped in a bathtub for the remainder of our days? Martin's Mice handles these questions with a light touch. And there are bigger issues to wrestle with. Inevitably we feel some ownership over loved ones, a melding of responsibility, pride, and affection. But how do we know when we've crossed the line from being passionate about them to behaving as though they belong to us? Martin violates Drusilla's autonomy, though his intentions are pure. Can he learn to step back and be a friend without asserting ownership, and can Drusilla recognize his kind heart and grant him a second chance at a relationship with her? Martin's Mice is a subtle, nuanced story that invites contemplation long after the read is over. I know it gave me a lot to consider.

Dick King-Smith has an agreeable writing style; I couldn't tire of his books if I read ten in a row. The narratives aren't intense, but the protagonists are easy to cheer for even when they have mistakes to learn from. Martin's Mice stacks up decently against some of the author's best books; I see why it's one of his most popular novels. I'd rate it two and a half stars, and I'm very close to rounding up to three. Long live Dick King-Smith, master of the English farm story for kids.