The Wild Robot
Peter Brown
You’re off the edge of the map, mate. Here there be spoilers. Other reviews in this series can be found here. Kindle notes are saved here.
You know what absolutely sucks? Coming out of a book with no strong opinions or even memories of what you just read. This is particularly galling when, as in the case of this book, I really really REALLY wanted to love it. I first heard of it when Brown was scheduled to give a talk at the 2024 Library of Congress National Book Festival and absolutely loved the concept, but I wasn’t impressed with the Kindle sample and decided not to pursue it. But then I watched the movie and was blown away, so I first borrowed the book from the library and then ended up buying the entire series on Kindle (because I’m impatient and didn’t want to have to wait for the next two books), which sounds promising except that I took very little from the library’s copy. I thought a second reading might help after the first one fell flat, but all I can come up with, now that it’s done, is that the book is cute and sweet and beautifully illustrated………I just don’t remember very much of it. (As to how I still managed to summarize it: I am relying heavily on my Kindle notes.)
Set sometime in a future that is rapidly becoming our current reality, The Wild Robot begins in the middle of a hurricane. A beleaguered cargo ship gives in to the tempest and sinks to the bottom of the sea, losing its entire load. (This is literally how much I don’t remember: I had to reread the first paragraph to double-check whether the ship actually sank or not.) The ship was carrying 500 brand-new robots built by TechLab Industries, but these quickly dwindle to five as the bulk of the robots are swallowed by the waves. The remaining robots – untouched in their crates – ride the waves to the shores of a small island. Here their numbers are reduced yet again: four robots are thrown from their crates to lie broken upon the island’s northern shore, but the fifth is cushioned by the bodies of its predecessors and finally makes it to the safety of the beach, where it is discovered and thoroughly investigated by a family of curious sea otters. During the course of their investigation, the otters accidentally press the robot’s power button (conveniently located at the back of the head), and the robot boots up and introduces herself as ROZZUM unit 7134, or “Roz.”
She means no harm – her programming prevents her from behaving violently – but Roz is immediately labeled “the monster,” treated with fear and hostility by the animals who have made the island their home. It is a world unlike any Roz had ever expected: nature is a brutal, relentless force, and the animals are mostly unfriendly towards one another except during the Dawn Truce, when by universal agreement they spend an hour schmoozing instead of hunting. Roz attempts to integrate with the animals, adopting their methods of camouflage and learning their language, but makes little headway until the day she adopts an orphaned gosling. Acting on the advice of an older goose named Loudwing, Roz names the little gosling Brightbill, then hires a family of beavers to build a lodge, which she names “the Nest.” With the help of a gentle doe named Tawny, Roz plants an extensive garden around the Nest, and finally manages to befriend the larger island community when Tawny invites their neighbors to literally shit on Roz’s lawn. (No, really, it’s a good thing. They do it with the best of intentions.)
Thus, Brightbill grows up safe and well nurtured, a little different from the other goslings but still friendly with them. He has a loving relationship with Roz, who has fully stepped into the role of mother, and he also befriends a talkative young squirrel named Chitchat. (Side note: I love Chitchat, she is an absolute badass, I will not be taking feedback on this. I wish she’d made it into the movie.) He isn’t particularly large or strong, but he is smart, and his robot mother optimizes his flight studies to the point that he starts taking cues from birds other than geese. The adult geese frown at such tricks; the goslings revere him. In due time, of course, autumn arrives, and Brightbill reluctantly takes his leave of the only home he has ever known, flying under the supervision of the kindly Longneck. After his departure, winter settles in, and the island prepares to hibernate through the long, dark months.
Unfortunately for the animals, a severe cold front descends upon the island, bringing with it dangerous lows and several feet of snow. Though she had planned a sort of hibernation for herself, Roz unexpectedly wakes to find the roof of the Nest caved in under snow. She easily repairs it and lights a fire to keep snow from accumulating on the roof, but realizes in the process that other residents must be in the same predicament. At her invitation, several families take shelter in the Nest, where it is warm and safe, and Roz soon embarks upon a mission to build other lodges across the island. Things get exciting when the second lodge burns to the ground after insufficient care is taken with the fire, but Roz builds an improved lodge on top of its ashes, and its tenants are left with a far greater respect for fire. There are some losses, but for the most part the community survives the winter, emerging into a joyous spring. Already popular thanks to the winter shelters, Roz integrates more tightly with the island as she begins to act more and more like the animals who surround her.
Roz’s joy seems complete when Brightbill returns at the head of his flock, a role he assumed when Longneck was shot by a human. Having seen considerably more of the world, Brightbill brings fresh information from a distant city, including the news that he has personally observed several different models of robot, as well as a factory of the kind that might have produced Roz. Overjoyed at his return, Roz builds a bonfire, and the island celebrates wildly. Their party is noted by a cargo ship that happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and this ship in turn notifies TechLab Industries, which sends an airship with three RECO robots to retrieve Roz. RECOs 1, 2, and 3 attempt to carry out their mission, but the islanders rally around their robot and completely destroy the invaders. Knowing that the humans – also called “the Makers” – will continue to send resources until she and the four dead robots have been properly collected, Roz boards the RECOs’ airship and sets out for the human world, promising her son and their friends that she will return.
As I say, this book was so cute and heartwarming, with charming illustrations and a strong environmental message. I love Roz, who despite being a robot is genuinely kind, helpful, and inclusive. Of course she is programmed to be all of those things, but she also seems to make decisions for herself based on her core programming, as when she decides to raise Brightbill. She quickly comes to regard Brightbill as her own true son, and she works hard – for very little reward, in the beginning – to connect with her unexpected neighbors. When she returns to the humans in the end, it is with the intention of using the humans to get the repairs she desperately needs, after which she plans to return to the island without the consent of the humans. In this way Roz is a true AI of the kind that currently does not exist, a completely man-made intelligence that thinks independently and is capable of deliberately disobeying its own internal rules. She isn’t as emotional as the Roz in the movie, but her decision-making and her love for her son don’t raise my red flags the way Chobits did.
None of this changes the fact that I remember the book best while I am actually reading it, and even then it’s a bit iffy. This is an infuriating conundrum because, again, I wanted this to be my new favorite series. It has a completely human-free ecosystem, wild animals by the dozen, a gentle-hearted robot who seems to be capable of human emotions (just like WALL-E and EVE, I love them), found family, a strong community, and a beautiful little island in the middle of nowhere. I love all of these things separately and I love them together, which is why I don’t fully understand why this isn’t landing for me. Having now read it twice with the same result, I’m beginning to think the prose might be the problem. I have read children’s books that were beautifully written, and I have read books that were written with such unbridled joy that they made me want to put down the book and pick up a pen. The Wild Robot falls into neither of these categories, though I did so hope it would qualify for both.
The book is supposed to be middle grade, and, given the themes and some of the more violent scenes, I would agree. But Brown’s narration seems overly simplistic for the age of the audience, and, though it is written in a way that looks like it was meant to be read out loud, this doesn’t translate particularly well to the page. I would expect the average reader to be somewhere in the eight-to-ten range, but the book reads like it was written for five-year-olds. While I do not expect a middle grade book to feature sophisticated, experimental prose, I was expecting something less dull. The choppy, blocky sentences would have worked well enough if Roz had been the narrator, but she is not. I am also not hugely fond of Brown’s frequent asides, a handful of mildly grating Jane Eyre moments in which he speaks directly to the reader. Though I hope I am wrong about this, it doesn’t read like Brown was having fun while he was writing the book. I don’t feel the joy.
And I suppose, in the end, this is what gives the book a certain soullessness that makes it hard to describe. I find it unmemorable because the writing has made it so. It isn’t emotionless, but it lacks the depth that would have given it its staying power, at least for me. Now that it’s over, I don’t feel compelled to pick it up again. Despite the action-packed final chapters, it is just slightly boring, and the robotic narration saps the feeling from even the most emotional scenes. This is one case, shockingly, in which I could not be tempted with what is essentially a 270-page year-in-the-life vlog: too much happens too quickly during the year Roz spends on the island, and the chapters whip by at the speed of light, giving me no time to settle into the story, much less to remember any of it. Even Chitchat, who is probably my favorite character, was forgotten until I was introduced to her again. Maybe, at base, the real problem is that Roz’s story just moves too quickly for my liking.
Earlier I mentioned that I had already bought the other two books, so I am still going to finish the series because otherwise I’ll be so pissed that I spent money on it and can’t get rid of it. I’m hoping it picks up a bit in book two. My biggest consolation is of course Roz herself, a resourceful, lovable heroine who is so easy to root for. I’m looking forward to her outsmarting the humans and returning to her sweet baby boy. With any luck I’ll actually remember the next adventure.
