What comes to mind when you hear the phrase ‘bears of England’? Maybe Winnie the Pooh, affable and bemused, Paddington Bear, friendly,  inquisitive  and always ready for a marmalade sandwich or soft-furred teddy bears, cuddly, much-loved companions of childhood. Writer Mick Jackson reaches into a far darker series of stories about bears to create this idiosyncratic book, an intriguing blend of folk-tales, fact and fiction.  Don’t come to this expecting a cosy, charming read; this is a far more interesting book than that.

The opening chapter, titled Spirit Bears,  sets out humanity’s deep fear of bears and also casts a chilly eye on human behaviour,  two themes which resonate throughout the book. From spirit bears, Jackson soon moves on to draw on the brutal realities of bear-baiting and circus bears. He uses this history as a backdrop for a series of engrossing ‘tall tales’ with the captive bears, humiliated and mistreated,  intent both on escape and also on gaining justice.

Jackson’s depiction of how we treated bears is a humbling experience,  with the human race emerging from this narrative as definitely inhumane.  Jackson, however,  also has an eye for the comic,  though with the humour definitely on the dark side.  Surreal tales such as the one of Jim Stooley and his mysterious helmet-clad, deep-sea diving companion, Henry Huxley, noted for his formidable strength, are written with a sardonic wit. The dark underbelly of Victorian life provides Jackson with rich pickings,  allowing him to conjure up the haunting image of sewer bears, imprisoned underneath the city of London’s streets and used to keep the effluvia moving through the labyrinth of drains. The only human contact these bears have is with the Gutter Traders, who trade them food in return for the knick-knacks and jewellery discovered in the sewers.  An encounter between a bear and a Gutter Trader, overly keen for a bargain,  results in a memorable story, which lingers in the mind after reading it.

David Robert’s finely drawn, black-and-white illustrations  add an extra dimension to the text, reminiscent of the illustrator Edward Gorey both in their style and the darkness of their subject matter.  One of my favourites shows an old lady sitting in a church pew, deep in prayer. Looking at it more closely one begins to make out, barely visible in the darkness, the shadowy forms, glinting eyes and long, curved claws of hidden bears, making their bid for freedom from human society.  A slender volume,  Bears of England, as with fables at their very best, is at once entertaining and profound.

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