I hated reading as a child, so I rarely remember books from when I was younger. There are a few that stand out in my memory, such as The Invention of Hugo Cabret and The Black Stallion, but I don’t remember what those books were about and instead only remember the context of reading them. There is one exception to this fault in memory, however: The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane written by Kate DiCamillo and illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline. The story stuck with me through the years, and now after reading so many new books, I thought it would be good to revisit an older children’s novel and see if it still holds up today.
The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane is about a rabbit named Edward. A china rabbit, with a china head and body and arms and legs. His ears and tail, however, are made of real rabbit fur—and his whiskers he knows not the origin of. He belongs to a little girl named Abilene Tulane, who loves him fiercely. But he doesn’t love her, only the things she does for him. One day, when he goes on a trip with her and her family, he gets lost. And thus begins his journey from the bottom of the sea to the top of a doll mender’s shelf, years spent trading hands and traveling the world and being loved. Edward didn’t truly love Abilene until he learned what love was and made his way back to her.
When I began my reread of this novel, I wasn’t too sure what to expect—I wasn’t sure how much I remembered and didn’t know if nostalgia would cloud my judgement of the book. I was surprised to see how much time we spent with Abilene—and how much disdain Edward had for her family. I was definitely surprised to see he did not love her, or didn’t understand how he loved her. Though in my opinion, he did care about her. It was endearing to see how she took such good care of him, and I could look back and compare it to how I used to treat my own dolls.
I think the true story begins with Abilene’s grandmother Pellegrina, when she says she’s disappointed in Edward. The comment resonates with Edward in a way he doesn’t understand at the beginning of—and throughout most of—the novel, but in my mind sets up a good question for any child to wonder: why? Why would she say Edward disappointed her? What could Edward, a doll, possibly have done to make her feel so strongly about him? Edward himself does not linger in this questioning for long, but as the novel progresses we see again and again why she would be disappointed. Edward only considers himself and his comfort; he doesn’t actually care about the feelings of others until the tramp Bull and his dog Lucy.
Regarding Bull and Lucy, something I appreciated about DiCamillo’s writing—which I feel really added to Edward’s growth as a character—was the time spent with each person spanning multiple chapters. Abilene, Nellie and Lawrence, Bull and Lucy, and Bryce and Sarah Ruth all had multiple chapters with Edward, and we really got to see two different stories at play. We had Edward’s perspective, of course: beginning as a vain and dismissive character that doesn’t value what he has until he loses it, and even then doesn’t understand what he has lost until he has lost it multiple times. And then we see, again and again, people seeking comfort out of Edward, whether because things are constantly changing or they’re looking for a way to distract themselves from the past. The multiple chapters dedicated to each person really solidifies the bond that Edward forms with each person, even if he doesn’t intend to at the start. No character overstays their welcome; the chapters are short enough that it feels right to move onto the next person after a few chapters have gone past, and sometimes the scenes are fleeting enough we’re left wanting more.
By the end of the novel, Edward is a completely different character; he has loved and been loved, has lost and been lost, many times by this point. When he tries to return to a distant, cold personality he is unable to do so because all he can do is remember the people who have owned him before. The people who have loved him before. He is so utterly changed that it makes his reunion with Abilene years later bittersweet, because we see that she still loves him and he has learned to love her, but it’s too late and he can’t be hers now. He can, however, not make the same mistakes: he can still love the next person.
That, I believe, is the biggest thing to be taken away from this novel. That you can continue to love. That it will hurt when you lose people, it will be devastating when you can’t go back to the ones you care about, but it will always be better to continue to love. The heart moves on, but it never forgets.
So, does The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane still hold up after twenty years? I’d say yes. I was able to read the entire book in less than an hour, but the book still had very strong emotional moments throughout that I think someone younger—and who would be spending more time reading through the novel—would benefit in experiencing. There’s a myriad of lifestyles portrayed throughout the book that could be a younger reader’s first experience seeing, or it might be the first time they see their family represented in a story. And I think focusing on Edward’s internal dialogue makes this fantasy story feel a lot more grounded, as well as helps readers relate to his character by perhaps imagining their own childhood toy in his place.
Twenty years later, Kate DiCamillo’s story still does an incredible job of capturing a story of loss, love, and learning to hope.
Grace McCool, Pine Reads Review Writer & Editor