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divxalex 's review for:
The Jungle Book
by Rudyard Kipling
(ελληνικά στο δεύτερο σκέλος)
Forget everything you think you know about The Jungle Book.
If your only point of reference is the Disney rendition of Mowgli — charming, melodic, and entirely sanitised — kindly proceed to erase your memory. Perform a full mental format. Place that hard drive in the microwave on "max" for half an hour. Let us begin anew.
Shock the First: Kipling’s The Jungle Book is far more than the story of Mowgli — whose arc, incidentally, occupies merely two of the collection’s tales.
Shock the Second: Shere Khan, fearsome tiger, meets his end not in a climactic personal battle, but by being trampled to death by buffalo. A demise oddly reminiscent of another fallen feline patriarch in Disney’s cinematic canon — yes, Mufasa.
But let us proceed with proper decorum and chronology. Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book, first published in 1894, comprises a series of short stories, and stands today as a quintessential artefact of British imperial literature. And when I say "imperial," I do not do so lightly. However fond we may be of Kipling’s literary flair, he remains, unavoidably, a product of his time and empire — a man for whom planting a flag was tantamount to a declaration of divine right. ("No flag? Ah, splendid — we’ll just affix ours here. Congratulations, you’re now British.")
Though popularly imagined as a children’s tale, The Jungle Book is, in truth, a sophisticated mosaic of narratives, replete with moral instruction and veiled (or not-so-veiled) political subtext — many of which may sit uneasily with the sensibilities of the 21st-century adult reader.
As previously noted, Mowgli’s adventures — the boy reared by wolves — are not the sole content of the work. Indeed, they are arguably the least overtly colonial in flavour (on the surface, at least — a closer reading invites further speculation). The book includes several equally important stories, each accompanied by verse, underscoring Kipling’s dual aim: to address both the youthful and the morally contemplative adult reader. That is, readers with a concern for law, order, and the so-called greater good — as Kipling, of course, defined these terms.
One of the more striking themes is the famed “Law of the Jungle”: a symbolic code governing the animal realm — which, spoiler alert, is not nearly as wild as it appears. It is, rather, rigorously structured, rule-bound, and intolerant of deviation. Discipline and obedience are paramount, and those who defy the law — such as the anarchic monkey-folk who abduct Mowgli — are swiftly rendered outcasts and legitimate prey. Enter Baloo, Bagheera, and the titanic python Kaa, who dispense jungle justice with admirable efficiency. In other words: stray from the flock, and you’re fair game.
Kipling’s prose is vivid and rhythmically engaging — brimming with imagery and a strong narrative cadence. Nevertheless, any contemporary reading must contend with the ideological undertones. The text often betrays an unapologetic admiration for hierarchy, authority, and the subjugation of the "Other" — ideals closely aligned with the ethos of British imperial rule.
And yet, for all its ideological provocations, The Jungle Book endures as a work of literary merit, layered in meaning and rich in aesthetic quality. It straddles myth, morality, and politics — and, for that reason, continues (or ought to continue) to be read and discussed not only by children, but by adults with a taste for nuance and an eye for the uncomfortable truths that literature sometimes reveals.
Forget everything you think you know about The Jungle Book.
If your only point of reference is the Disney rendition of Mowgli — charming, melodic, and entirely sanitised — kindly proceed to erase your memory. Perform a full mental format. Place that hard drive in the microwave on "max" for half an hour. Let us begin anew.
Shock the First: Kipling’s The Jungle Book is far more than the story of Mowgli — whose arc, incidentally, occupies merely two of the collection’s tales.
Shock the Second: Shere Khan, fearsome tiger, meets his end not in a climactic personal battle, but by being trampled to death by buffalo. A demise oddly reminiscent of another fallen feline patriarch in Disney’s cinematic canon — yes, Mufasa.
But let us proceed with proper decorum and chronology. Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book, first published in 1894, comprises a series of short stories, and stands today as a quintessential artefact of British imperial literature. And when I say "imperial," I do not do so lightly. However fond we may be of Kipling’s literary flair, he remains, unavoidably, a product of his time and empire — a man for whom planting a flag was tantamount to a declaration of divine right. ("No flag? Ah, splendid — we’ll just affix ours here. Congratulations, you’re now British.")
Though popularly imagined as a children’s tale, The Jungle Book is, in truth, a sophisticated mosaic of narratives, replete with moral instruction and veiled (or not-so-veiled) political subtext — many of which may sit uneasily with the sensibilities of the 21st-century adult reader.
As previously noted, Mowgli’s adventures — the boy reared by wolves — are not the sole content of the work. Indeed, they are arguably the least overtly colonial in flavour (on the surface, at least — a closer reading invites further speculation). The book includes several equally important stories, each accompanied by verse, underscoring Kipling’s dual aim: to address both the youthful and the morally contemplative adult reader. That is, readers with a concern for law, order, and the so-called greater good — as Kipling, of course, defined these terms.
One of the more striking themes is the famed “Law of the Jungle”: a symbolic code governing the animal realm — which, spoiler alert, is not nearly as wild as it appears. It is, rather, rigorously structured, rule-bound, and intolerant of deviation. Discipline and obedience are paramount, and those who defy the law — such as the anarchic monkey-folk who abduct Mowgli — are swiftly rendered outcasts and legitimate prey. Enter Baloo, Bagheera, and the titanic python Kaa, who dispense jungle justice with admirable efficiency. In other words: stray from the flock, and you’re fair game.
Kipling’s prose is vivid and rhythmically engaging — brimming with imagery and a strong narrative cadence. Nevertheless, any contemporary reading must contend with the ideological undertones. The text often betrays an unapologetic admiration for hierarchy, authority, and the subjugation of the "Other" — ideals closely aligned with the ethos of British imperial rule.
And yet, for all its ideological provocations, The Jungle Book endures as a work of literary merit, layered in meaning and rich in aesthetic quality. It straddles myth, morality, and politics — and, for that reason, continues (or ought to continue) to be read and discussed not only by children, but by adults with a taste for nuance and an eye for the uncomfortable truths that literature sometimes reveals.