Talkin’ About Our Generation

This is an edited reprint of an article that first appeared in Anthro #11.

It sometimes feels like I’ve tried to spend most of the last ten years of my life trying to explain the fast-growing Anthropomorphic Animal, or ‘Furry’, phenomenon to outsiders. Yet the trend absolutely begs explanation. Attendance at furry-themed events is doubling roughly every three years, fur-fans (or, simply, ‘furs’) are becoming a highly-visible presence in many online communities, and more and more anthro-themed marketing campaigns appear every day.

So what’s behind the sudden explosion? There have always been anthro-themed ad campaigns, as any consumer of breakfast cereals can testify. Practically all of us grew up with Tony the Tiger, Toucan Sam, and Sugar Bear. Nor are anthro characters anything new in entertainment, as attested to by Tom Cat, Jerry Mouse, Pepe le Pew, and Speedy Gonzales. Children have been sleeping with stuffed animals at least since the time of Teddy Roosevelt, and as early as 1922 they were common enough to serve as a powerful literary symbol in the classic story The Velveteen Rabbit. Even long before modern times, humanized animal characters occupied an honored place in the human heart; where would Aesop have been without them?

Yet there’s clearly a new dynamic at work today. Artists have drawn anthropomorphic creatures before, but never in such mind-boggling variety, or to such an appreciative audience. And, more pertinent to the blog you’re currently reading, writers have written tales in which half-animals appear since the very beginning of things. But never before has the usage of such characters been so widespread or executed so skillfully. Never before, in other words, have authors so openly and unashamedly incorporated anthropomorphic characters into works intended for adults, written with an adult level of depth and sophistication. Or, at least, it’s never happened frequently enough to be noticeable as an artform in and of itself.

Which brings us right back to our original question. Why now? Why is furry fiction taking off and growing legs today, after lying near-dormant for so long? Why are the adventures of cartoon-like bunnies suddenly acceptable as the stuff of serious novels, instead of for Saturday-morning-only consumption? There are two important and largely unrelated reasons for this, I think.

Everyone knows that children are very open to the power of suggestion. During childhood the human mind develops like nothing else in nature, desperately attempting to gather and incorporate everything it needs in order to master the environment around it. This adaptive process runs far deeper than merely mastering the art of counting to ten and learning that cows go moo-moo. In one key phase of development, for example, infants become obsessed with the human face and will spend hours either staring at the faces of others or else scrawling increasingly human-like visages on whatever surfaces happen to be handy. During this period the child is among other things learning what is human and what isn’t, not just how to read faces but what a face is and what it represents. The child is, in short, defining itself as a member of a group of others like it. Yet it is during this same key developmental period that children are perhaps most exposed to anthropomorphic animal images in the forms of stuffed animals, picture-books, and animated films. Furthermore, the level of exposure has increased dramatically both in volume and ‘quality’ (via television, DVD player and VCR) over time. Would it be any wonder if, surrounded by more and more anthro images during a critical developmental stage, kids began to blur the lines a little in learning what is human and what is not? Would it take a miracle for a substantial and growing percentage of kids raised in this way to grow up feeling most at home interpreting and understanding the universe through the eyes of half-animal characters? Might children raised in such an environment develop an otherwise inexplicable attraction to anthropomorphic art and fiction as adults? Indeed, wouldn’t it be even more surprising if, exposed to such a saturation of anthropomorphic characters at such an impressionable age, said characters didn’t come to play an important role in their inner lives?

The second key factor behind the new explosion of interest is, I believe, the Internet. For the first time, people who admire serious anthropomorphic art and literature have been able to find one another and share their creations. The pent-up potential is finally being released, and the result is the veritable explosion you see today in the anthropomorphic arts.

Furry art is still not for everyone. However, it does seem to be for more and more of us every year. Given the stratospheric average IQ among the furs I know and their tendency towards careers in professions such as IT and the sciences, it’s fair to say that the cultural impact of anthropomorphic art is not only well out of proportion to the numbers involved but continually rising. Today, for example, ethicists blanch at the idea of merging human and animal characteristics via gengineering. But tomorrow, who knows?

The future may be closer than you think. And it just may be brought to you by a guy who likes to look at pictures of horses walking around on two legs…

About Rabbit

Rabbit Is the author of over thirty published furry novels and novellas as well as numerous columns and articles in other furry venues. He’s a retired Tennessee auto worker.

Before posting a comment, please read our Code of Conduct

7 thoughts on “Talkin’ About Our Generation

  1. Nicely put, though I think there is an element of exaggeration. Anthropomorphic literature has been well-established throughout the 20th century at least. Earlier examples are harder to find, with only occasional revered “classics” sticking up out of the primordial literary ooze, so to speak. Myself, I’m inclined to put the start of “modern” furry literature down to stories such as Black Beauty (Anna Sewell, 1877,) Beautiful Joe (Marshall Saunders, 1893,) A Dog’s Tale (Mark Twain, 1904,) and The Wind in the Willows (Kenneth Grahame, 1907.) The corresponding illustrations (though there were earlier limited examples) begin with Beatrix Potters incredibly detailed watercolor illustrations for her own children’s stories (ca. 1900-1910 or so) and were soon thereafter picked up in the newspaper comics (Krazy Kat) and then animated films (Gertie the Dinosaur, Mickey Mouse and others.)

    Even these early literary works were primarily intended for adult readers. Sewell, Saunders, and Twain intended to support anti-cruelty organizations in their first person dog and horse writings. Grahame wrote for children, but always with a sly aside for the adult who was presumably reading the text to the child audience. Others followed Grahame’s example, including Thornton W. Burgess (Mother West Wind stories,) Howard R. Garis (Uncle Wiggily Longears stories,) and Felix Salten (Bambi, and Perri;) and their works spread and were very popular from World War I onward. More recently Richard Adams has contributed major anthropomorphic works for adult readers including Watership Down (1972) and Traveller (1988.) All of this comes well before the self-identification of the furry fandom, yet contributes strongly to its existence and growth.

    Many young furs today will cite Disney films, television animated series, or even Dreamworks productions when explaining their early interest in things furry; but I definitely attribute my own interest and involvement to hearing my mother read aloud from Grahame, Sewell, and Salten when I was still less than six years old. That’s well back into the 1950s, folks. While furry fandom seems to many to consist entirely of people under 30, the truth is that there are greyer muzzles around in significant numbers.

    The internet did a lot to facilitate the group awareness of furries, but we’ve been around for much longer than that. We were just isolated in our own libraries and fantasies.

    1. Hello from Fang Con in Nashville!

      I firmly believe that the “furry phenomenon”, for all but the most casual furs, is rooted in self-identity. I’d further point out that, loosely speaking, “the twentieth century” defines rather neatly the age of mass-media in the form of first cheap mass-printed books, then radio, then TV, then color TV. Sure, the printing came a little earlier in most places. But it aligns fairly well, and as stated in my article each step was a fuller, more immersive experience– at least from an infant’s point of view. This is, I’m theorizing, the root cause of why a) there are more and more of us every year, and b) why we’re making ever-larger inroads into culture as a whole.

      I’m well aware of the existence of “paleo-furs” who lived and died before the modern phenomenon– I hope to reprint a column here in the future about a rather famous historical figure who I strongly suspect of furryness, plus I once came across a since-removed blog written by a WWII veteran who flew numerous combat missions over Nazi Germany in a P-51 Mustang… while wearing an ear-and-tailed bunnysuit. Furry _has_ always been a part of human culture. But I’d submit that the explosion is new, and therefore requires an explanation.

  2. Everything is more popular than it used to be because everything is closer together and thus easily reachable. I’m not so sure we’re showing up on the non-fen radar so much as the non-fen are seeing ears and tails and thinking that it’s a pretty neat idea. Poodle skirts come to mind.

  3. I think I just fell in love with this website. Great writers, great topics, all done in a cerebral but accessible way.
    The theory about human development being related to relating to anthro characters not only makes sense, but I feel that it’s a likely explanation for my own furryness. When I was little I watched cartoons almost exclusively, aside from the live action documentaries I watched on VHS. Most of the shows and books I consumed were about animal characters, and as a result I feel today that talking animal media could have just as much value as human based media. I can relate to nonhuman characters as well as I can human ones. Of course my one case doesn’t constitute proof of theory, and I’m hardly able to be an objective observer in this.

    1. Who needs objective proof if it works for you?
      Seriously… Thank you for the very kind words, and I hope you’ll be around for a long time to come.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *