Nutley Copse: A Novel of Watership Down (in the manner of William S.Burroughs)

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I first saw Watership Down in Mr. Farley's 5th grade class (c.1982). Our class had to finish all the assignments in order to watch it. Before the screening, Mr. Farley presented a paperback edition of Watership Down to the class. I saw the rabbit and the compass illustration on the cover. I couldn’t guess what I was about to see, except perhaps a rabbit. I had no idea what to expect, but was deep in the film when Mr. Farley suddenly turned it off—right at the moment Hazel gets shot—and said, “Tomorrow, the class has to finish more assignments to see the rest of the movie.” I remember striving to finish those assignments. After seeing Hazel get shot there was no way I was going to miss the second half. After the second screening, I was so overwhelmed by the movie, I asked Mr. Farley what he had done with the book. He had returned it to the school library, so that’s where I went after class, anxious to take it home. I started to read it every night, and found it’s deeper world. Opening the novel and reading the first sentence was a true opening into an organic world of sights, smells, and emotion. The images that went from Adams’ words to my head stayed with me all these years, as vivid as a dream.

 As I read the novel, I started to sketch the Watership Down rabbits. It was difficult without a reference. The first memory I have of sketching the rabbits was on a trip to a bowling tournament. I had a mead notebook with a yellow cover, and sketched within the school bus surrounded by the noise of my bowling league. I brought the novel with me—that same library book—to read. In my notebook I drew scenes from the book, landscapes with rabbits. The rabbits were crudely drawn, but I wanted to lock down what I remembered about the film, which—in my mind and heart—had combined seamlessly with the novel. I remember reading the chapter called “Like Trees In November”, and the day was overcast and cold outside.

 After reading the novel, I happened upon Mr. Farley’s desk one afternoon. I was alone in the classroom at the end of school, and walked to Mr. Farley’s desk, curious about the content of the drawers. I opened a drawer on the right side and saw a black rectangular object —a video cassette—marked “Watership Down” in ballpoint pen on a plain white label. I held the cassette in my hands, excited for the find. This was the same tape Mr. Farley had played for the class. I was holding on to an object that changed my life. I wanted it. I played with the idea of taking it home with me. I didn’t have a VCR, but I loved the thought of owning this movie, even if I couldn’t view it. I placed the cassette back in the drawer, sorry to put it away. My conscience wouldn’t let me steal it.

 A little later (I wish I remembered the year) the Watership Down movie was on television for the first time, on the Showtime cable channel. My best friend, Tom, had access to the Showtime channel at his house (his dad worked for a cable company). To my great delight, I found small movie stills inside the Showtime viewing guide at his house. I tore out the pictures to use them as a reference for drawing the Watership Down characters. I was ecstatic to be reunited with Watership Down on Tom’s black and white television, in his basement. I wasn’t sure when I would be able to see it again so I did all I could to document the movie. I armed myself with a drawing pad and sketched the characters as I watched. I also laid a portable tape recorder next to the T.V. and recorded everything, making sure not to miss anything.

 I listened to the movie as often as I could, especially in the night while in bed. The recording gave me an opportunity to visit that world anytime I wanted. Most of all, I liked hearing the music soundtrack in detail, and the music became a favorite element of the film. In junior high, I searched in the school library, and found a copy of Ronald Lockley’s The Private Life of the Rabbit (1964), the book mentioned by Adams on the dedication page of Watership Down. I studied Lockley’s book, and began to write a story using the world of Adams’ novel, inventing names for new characters. I introduced a March Hare named ‘Weed” (to use one embarrassing example). Basically, I used names from plants or nature for my characters (just like Richard Adams). I used Adams’ fictional rabbit-language but invented new rabbit-lingo of my own. I called my story Nutley Copse, the name of a place I found on a map inside the novel. Recreating my “own” Watership Down was an intimate way of communing with the real Watership Down and it’s world. I wrote the most of the story during a summer trip to the grandparent’s farm in Isle, Minn. At night, I listened to my cassettes of the movie in my sleeping bag. In the day, I drew Watership Down characters on a large drawing pad, using the thumbnail movie stills from the Showtime Guide. I especially liked drawing the confrontation between Bigwig and General Woundwort. Then, I would enter the world of Watership Down by working on my own rabbit story, lost in reverie.

The story was many pages long. The adventures I created with my rabbit characters became obsessive. I couldn’t stop thinking about this world of rabbits. The images in my mind where as clear as reality. Story scenarios played in my head, over and over again. I used my grandmother’s large garden as the setting for the big opening chapter, called “The Garden Raid.” My rabbit hero, Speed, leads the raid, but is distracted by a doe (female rabbit) and her offspring under attack from a big hunting dog. In the process of distracting the dog, Speed is shot by a hunter. Wounded, Speed manages to hide under a tree in Nutley Copse, where he runs into a stranger, a large March Hare named Weed. Weed attempts to save Speed from the oncoming dog by running towards the dog and distracting the dog away. Meanwhile, the hunter walks toward Speed laying in Nutley Copse. Speed plays dead as the hunter checks his body. The hunter leaves Speed for dead—his body is too torn up to eat—and calls the dog and heads home. Weed returns to his new friend. Over the next month, he feeds Speed back to health.

 My plagiarism didn’t bother my conscience until I published the story in the school magazine, called The Rebel Reader. I gave copies to classmates and close friends. I expected praise for my efforts, and awe over my ideas, but instead was teased and chided over my lack of originality. The constant allegations of plagiarism stung me, and my foray into writing about rabbits came to a sudden end. Nowadays, I wish I still had a copy of my story, but unless I find a rare copy of the Rebel Reader from John Adams Middle School, I will never see the efforts of my blissful adventure again.

Instead, I appropriated the complete text of Watership Down, word for word, and simply rearranged the whole text, and titled it “Nutley Copse” in honor of my earliest efforts. Enjoy. Nutley Copse: a novel of Watership Down (William Burroughs style)