The Moomins and me

I’ve recently been listening to a recording of Moominpapa at Sea, and am appreciating again Tove Jansson’s skill in writing a story apparently for children, but which portrays adults so acutely with all their worries and foibles.

For those unfamiliar with the book, one day Moominpapa gets the urge to take his family far away from their home in Moominvalley, to live in the lighthouse on ‘his‘ island far out at sea. Moominmama loads up the boat with everything they’ll need, and off they go. Once they finally reach the island, nothing seems to quite feel right. The lighthouse light won’t work, Moominmama’s garden won’t grow properly, the old fisherman who lives on the island won’t speak to anyone, and the beautiful sea horses who Moomintroll sees playing on the beach at night don’t want to be his friends. Compared to the usual cast of characters, this book centres around just four people.

Moominpapa is the stereotypical father who needs to be needed and can’t ever admit he doesn’t know the answer to something; he both wants to be in control of everything but also resents the pressure put on him by his own insistence on being the provider. He seems to enjoy playing the role of Lighthouse Keeper, despite his inability to get the light working and instead turns his attention to trying to understand the sea,

Moominmama appears on the surface to be the idealised mother figure – throughout the books she is a constant and reliable source of love and comfort, endlessly patient despite the never-ending demands on her hospitality and care. She is always ready to welcome visitors, provide hot drinks, sandwiches and cakes, or pack up a picnic at a moment‘s notice. However, in this book it becomes apparent that she’s actually dissatisfied with that as her lot, and she creates her own way of finding a place for herself where her family can’t reach her.

Moomintroll is simultaneously desperate to be surrounded by love and comfort, and also longing to be fiercetly independent and private. He creates his own little den in a glade and decides to live out there alone, but longs to be accepted by the sea horses so he can play in the surf with them. He is a sensitive soul who delights in beautiful things - the silver horseshoe he finds on the beach, the picture of the sea horse in the calendar, but is also fascinated by the Groke - the sinister, shadowy grey figure who is drawn to warmth and light.

Little My is resolutely herself - independent, adventurous, and irrepressible. As always she has a very direct approach to problem-solving, and takes delight in teasing Moomintroll for his naïvety. There is something appealing about her utter self-confidence, despite her being a difficult character to like! Somehow these disparate personalities form a tightly-knit group which would be incomplete and unbalanced without any one of them. Mama and Papa’s steadfastness and love provide a safe environment for Moomintroll to grow up and to explore different facets of his own being. They each demonstrate the best and worst of adult life, as they offer parental support and love, but struggle to accept the limitations and expectations placed upon themselves by their responsibilities. Still, they adventure together, support one another, and compromise their own desires for the greater good.

It’s a long time since I’ve read the book, and I’m looking forward to seeing how it ends - while I’m pretty certain they’ll end up back in Moominvalley, I can’t be completely certain. Tove Jansson wasn’t exactly restricted by the conventions of her time, either in her personal life or in her writing, and the Moomin books are not afraid to confront the dangers and fears in a child’s world. As a child I found them somewhat unsettling; as an adult they’re insightful, and explore threatening experiences within a safe world. While not my favourite Moomin book, I’m finding it captivating and will be looking for more audiobooks in the series.