Elizabeth, Queen of the Seas by Lynne Cox (review)

Animal stories are enduringly popular with youngsters, whether they’re tales of the lost and found or stories of loyal companionship, chronicles of dogs or yarns about cats. More unusual is a story about an animal who did exactly as she pleased and let the humans adjust to it; extremely unusual is a book not about furry dogs or cats but a huge wayward elephant seal. Such, however, is the tale of Elizabeth, Queen of the Seas.

The charming Elizabeth is the star of this fact-based story about the legendary seal who inexplicably swam up the Avon River to make her home in the busy New Zealand city of Christchurch. Stretching her 2,000-pound body out comfortably across warm city streets, she became rather a traffic hazard, so although the residents—especially one small boy, Michael—delighted in their regal visitor (named for Queen Elizabeth II), they feared she’d get hurt or cause an accident. Attempts to relocate her—first to a nearby seal beach, then to a colony miles away, and finally to a location hundreds of miles from the city—always resulted in the determined elephant seal’s return, and after her final triumphant reappearance, the city decided to embrace their unusual resident and warn traffic around her.

Cox, the famous long-distance swimmer, has an understandable affinity with a seagoing creature who swims tenaciously toward her goal. She writes with eager accessibility, keeping the story’s impact high by minimizing embroidery and focusing on key dramatic moments. She also possesses a storyteller’s rhythm (“Elizabeth looked at him with her dark brown eyes, snorted once, and once again”) and ear for the occasional picturesque detail (the towing boat heads out “past the silty, brownish-green river mouth into the cold, dark ocean”). The character of Michael, apparently a tribute to the Christchurch boy who (according to a note) told the author about Elizabeth, offers a fine identification point for young audiences who would similarly rejoice at a friendly local elephant seal. However, the book doesn’t present him as a hero who eclipses Elizabeth; instead, he’s narrative counterpoint to her, waiting and watching along with listeners while allowing her to remain the star.

Floca’s loose-limbed line and watercolor illustrations have a touch of the informality of Robert Andrew Parker in their casual linework dabs and scrawls, and they move easily from spread to vignettes, seal to humans. Showstopping landscapes make Elizabeth’s attachment to the locale utterly understandable: verdant spreads of the tree-lined, reflection-dappled river drip with golden weeping willows; a luminous moon makes Elizabeth’s nocturnal path through the smoky water into a shimmering road; the populace of Christchurch throngs onto a lovely bridge (and down alongside it, and in boats within it) to witness the return of the prodigal elephant seal. Elizabeth herself is touched slightly with anthropomorphism in her contented if whiskery smile, but her massive gray bulk is absolutely believable, and there’s plenty of cheerful charm in the human Christchurch populace.

The book’s sunny temperament, Southern setting, and focus on an animal who knows where she wants to be despite human intervention make it a neat inverted complement to Carnesi’s compelling and fact-based Little Dog Lost (BCCB 2/12). But maybe they’re not so different—they’re both stories of animals who, much to human delight and relief, finally found safe homes, and that’s the takeaway that’s going to matter to audiences. A note about elephant seals and a photo of the real Elizabeth are appended. (See p. 566 for publication information.)