Hailed as one of “the best children’s authors in the world,” Jacques’ 21 Redwall books were translated into 29 languages and sold 20 million copies worldwide. His novels — despite centering on anthropomorphic woodland critters, such as mice, otters, moles, and squirrels — told epic tales of good triumphing over evil and never spoke down to their young audiences. When I was nine years old I finished Martin the Warrior, the third installment of the series, and remained in a daze for an entire afternoon. The characters had grown dear to me, and when a few of the most lovable ones died in the final battle scene, I felt genuine loss but also a sense that I was better for having known them. It was the book that cemented me as a reader for the rest of my life — I’d discovered what it was like to have such connection to a story, and I wanted to have it again and again.
With the news of Jacques’ death, I want to go through my closet and dig up those dusty childhood books I haven’t read in more than a decade. I know I’ll find them — Jacques’ novels aren’t ones you ever throw out.
I guess this is what it feels like to age.
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