13 minute read
SoMinn THE BOOKWORM SEZ
from SCENE July 2022
by Kate Noet
In the Houses of Their Dead, Divorce Colony, Queer Ducks and more
In the Houses of Their Dead
by Terry Alford
c.2022, Liveright $27.95 320 pages
You’re talking to yourself again.
That’s okay: it helps sort your thoughts, calm your brain, and settle your mind. But you’re not just talking to yourself: it may sound funny but it’s comforting to have one-sided conversations with people who would’ve shared their valuable wisdom, if they were still alive. You talk to those who gone sometimes, and in “In the Houses of Their Dead” by Terry Alford, you’ll see how that’s a habit that’s been around awhile.
Even for the early 1800s, Edwin Booth grew up in an unconventional household.
His father was an alcoholic actor who was prone to eccentricity, and he forced young Edwin to become his traveling companion and handler when the boy was just twelve years old. Edwin’s mother had lost a number of her children to nineteenth-century diseases. His younger siblings – especially Asia and John Wilkes – were as melodramatic as their father. As you might expect, the family was drawn toward the new mania for spiritualism.
In 1848, after the Fox sisters of Hydesville, New York, claimed to have heard the spirit of a dead man in the basement of their home, America became captivated by the idea that the living could communicate with those who had died. Seances became all the rage, complete with spectral knocking, otherworldly messages scratched in a medium’s skin, and eerie photographs of loved ones hovering over grieving parents. Fans of spiritualism swore they were talking to the dead when, in actuality, they were being scammed.
But just the idea – the mere chance – that she could speak to her dead sons made Mary Lincoln willing to try spiritualism. Her husband, Abraham, didn’t put much faith in such things (though, to be fair, Abraham was unsettled in faith, period), but he followed Mary to seek mediums who could speak to Willie and Tad.
One of the mediums the Lincolns visited was Charles Colchester, a pseudonymous conman with quite a lengthy client list, including the actor John Wilkes Booth. And when Booth’s rants and racism started to alarm Colchester, the medium subtly tried to warn the President...
First, this: if you’ve come here expecting spooky stories and ghosties, you’ll probably be mighty disappointed. “In the Houses of Their Dead” is not that kind of book.
Instead, author Terry Alford offers a long look at a wide arc of weirdly coincidental history that may, at times, feel as though it was being orchestrated in some otherworldly way. Under that arc, we see a seemingly-weary man burdened by familial trouble that’s he’s almost powerless to fix; we watch as a usually-practical leader grapples with the idea of faith; and we see how his wife, long-rumored to have been mentally ill, became that way.
Even for a skeptic who pooh-poohs spirits and haints, these stories and the peripheral tales that accompany them both lend a strong appeal to this book. Fans of history and of New Age studies will enjoy “in the Houses of Their Dead.” It’s a book you won’t have to work hard to talk yourself into.
The Hawk’s Way:
Encounters with Fierce Beauty
by Sy Montgomery
c.2022, Atria Books $20.00 79 pages
It’s no fun saying “King me!” by yourself.
Yep, checkers needs two to play, as does chess, backgammon, and Old Maid. Lots of things, in fact, are better when you’re got another pair of hands and another point of view to join you. In the new book “The Hawk’s Way” by Sy Montgomery, though, partnering with a wild creature is a whole ‘nother game.
The first time that Sy Montgomery met Mahood, he almost instantly swiveled his head toward her face and screamed. Although her husband was alarmed, the scream took her by surprise but she wasn’t nonplussed. Montgomery’s become used to all kinds of critters – pigs, chickens, cats and dogs, and “even an octopus” – but Mahood was a very large Harris’s hawk, and they don’t always take easily to strangers.
She knew what could have happened: a hawk will attack someone who angers it, makes a minor mistake, tries to touch it, or otherwise acts counter to what the hawk decides. A falconer might “train” a hawk, but the bird’s in charge. When you hunt with a hawk, you are it’s “partner,” not its master, Montgomery says – and yes, she was eager to get started. Still, even with expert help and what seemed like a natural way with raptors, she had a lot to learn, including words she couldn’t say to a hawk, body language, and personal protection advice.
There is, as Montgomery discovered, a “language of falconry” that goes beyond mere eating and eliminating to mantling and slicing. Falcons don’t sleep, they jonk. They don’t clean themselves, they feak. And they are not pets, in any sense of the word; new falconers catch their birds in the wild and they must work to learn to co-hunt together.
Despite that training, the bird is still wild.
But though eager to learn falconry, Montgomery had one concern: keeping a hawk around would be dangerous to her chickens. Her hens each had a name; would a hawk decimate her backyard flock? Still, “Who would not hunger for such company?”
You, perhaps, because “The Hawk’s Way” is soaringly beautiful but also uber-cautionary.
Indeed, readers who are eagle-eyed will notice what author Sy Montgomery makes abundantly clear: that though the hawk is a lovely, elegant bird, it’s a creature not to be trifled with. As you’ll read, repeatedly and in so many ways, an angry hawk will hurt you.
Does that deter you? Yea or nay, carry on: the secondary focus of this book are the awe-struck observations of the hawks Montgomery admires, and the beauty and majesty she sees in them. Possible injury aside, nature-loving readers will be thrilled by this, even if descriptions of the actual hunt might make them cringe. Just remember that Montgomery, an admitted animal lover, struggled with it, too.
Birders – especially those who enjoy watching raptors – and anyone who addictively scans the trees on long walks or drives absolutely needs to have “The Hawk’s Way.” Feathered-friend lover that you are, you’ll be enraptured by this book on the Sport of Kings.
Queer Ducks
(and Other Animals)
by Eliot Schrefer, illustrated by J.R. Zuckerberg
c.2022, Katherine Tegan Books $17.99 240 pages
You know all there is to know about the birds and the bees.
Or, well, you know enough about them, anyhow. You know that it takes a girl bee and a boy bee to make baybees, and that lovebirds dig their chicks. But did you know that penguins enjoy private lives or that bison bulls often bond? Read “Queer Ducks (and Other Animals)” by Eliot Schrefer, illustrations by J.R. Zuckerberg, and don’t let it bug you.
The year was 1834 and German zoologist August Kelch couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. It wasn’t that he’d never noticed mating doodlebugs before, but the two he’d found were both male! He chalked it up to the only thing he could think of, believing it was an act of perversion.
You can’t entirely blame him: for centuries, early theologians and scientists, lacking the proper language, noted that animals’ love lives sometimes didn’t match the boy-meets-girl ideal then ascribed to humans, so they wrongly condemned it in the only ways they knew. The thing is, animal sexuality varies so much that they might’ve overlooked other examples that could’ve proved the naturalness of it all. They may have seen mating animals and assumed something different than the truth.
Psychologists call it “confirmation bias – you see what you’re looking for – which means a pair of cats or dolphins, tête-à-tête, may both be male. You might see a male wrasse that changed gender for mating purposes, or a bonobo whose species is notoriously promiscuous. You might be watching a deer with a same-sex Dear.
Every farmer knows that cows will mount other cows in heat. Scientists have observed mating activity in female macaques lacking nearby males. Albatrosses form pair bonds without mating, and wild geese sometimes form throuples to care for a nest.
Maybe it matters to the individual animal, and maybe it doesn’t.
Which, suggests Schrefer, is half of an intriguing question: and why does that same behavior in humans matter to us?
So you’ve noticed some embarrassing activity at the dog park or the zoo, and you’ve waived it away by saying it’s a matter of dominance or a power-play among animals. But, as you’ll ask yourself while reading “Queer Ducks (and Other Animals),” what if it’s not?
Another question you might pose: is it fair to compare a dog or elephant to a human in this way, or is it anthropomorphizing? Scientists tend to hate the latter; author Eliot Schrefer does both here, proving that the behavior so often condemned in homo sapiens is perfectly natural in the animal kingdom, while also urging readers to see the ridiculousness of affirming one while lambasting the other. The point is made, though it can get heavyhanded at times. Still, readers won’t be able to keep their thoughts from being provoked.
Also full of interviews with scientists and biologists and a nice biography of the author, too, this book is informative, eye-opening, and just plain fun to read. Yep, get “Queer Ducks (and Other Animals),” or you’ll be a monkey’s uncle.
My Moment: 106 Women on Fighting for Themselves
Stories collected by Kristin Chenoweth, Kathy Najimy, Linda Perry, Chely Wright and Lauren Blitzer
c.2022, Gallery Books $27.99 336 pages
No.
It’s simple, really: just one syllable, dragged out or said sharply, emphatically, and finally. No. You’ve heard it all your life, yelled it a time or two. “No” is easy to say, especially when, as in the new book “My Moment,” stories collected by Kristin Chenoweth, Kathy Najimy, Linda Perry, Chely Wright and Lauren Blitzer, you’re done.
Watching Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testify in the Senate Chambers some time ago, Chenoweth, Najimy, Perry, Wright, and Blitzer became outraged. Over the years, they’d heard other women’s stories of bullying, abuse, injustice, and more; the five of them are friends, and they had stories to tell, too. They decided to ask women from all over the world one question: “What was the moment in your life when you realized you were ready to fight for yourself?”
The answers are in this book.
High school student Miya Lao was bullied for her diminutive height, until she realized that she didn’t need to give bullies any attention because “they weren’t my friends.” Performer Adrienne Warren was told by boys that she didn’t belong on the ball court when she “decided to be a warrior for myself...” Actress Kelly O’Hara accomplished an athletic feat and nobody believed her. She proved them wrong.
There are stories of racism here: activist Anna Gifty Opoku-Agyeman was taunted by racist jokes until she confronted the kid who told them. And there are stories of women who struggled before coming out, dealing with doubters, haters, and homophobes.
Comedian Melissa Peterman was a victim of bodyshaming. Actress Marlo Thomas’ own father stopped believing in her. Actress Debra Messing was sexually harassed by a director; and TV host S.E. Cupp, by a magazine publisher. Comedian Carol Burnett was told that her idea for a show was “a man’s game.” Lawyer Tina Tchen’s ideas were stolen by a male co-worker. Singersongwriter Alice Peacock hoped to change her family’s legacy. And musician Chrissie Hynde says she started standing up for herself, “The moment I was born.”
You know the feeling: frustration, like your arms are tied to your sides and the tears are coming, although you’ve promised yourself that you weren’t going to cry and then something inside you flips. Those are the kinds of stories you’ll read in “My Moment” and instantly, they’ll all seem familiar, as if you’ve known them all your life.
That’s discouraging. And yet, what you’ll read here is empowering, too, because the balance of content – from coming-out stories to bullying to harassment at work – will show readers that no matter what they’ve experienced, it’s not new or shameful. Yes, some stories may seem more relatable than others; some have no catalyst other than an unwillingness to accept anymore guff. In any case, readers will find breaking points, strength, and guts inside this book as well as a yell-out-loud lack of uniqueness, and that may lend courage to those who need words of support and power.
A little of that is always good, making “My Moment” a modern woman’s must-have, no problem.
The Divorce Colony:
How Women Revolutionized Marriage and Found Freedom in the American Frontier
by April White
c.2022, Hachette $30.00 304 pages
I’m leaving.
Wow, those are loaded words and what comes after them pretty much determines how the rest of your day will go. I’m leaving for work is good. I’m leaving this here is fine. I’m leaving you a surprise, very good. But in the 1890s, if for South Dakota was in that sentence, as you’ll see in “The Divorce Colony” by April White, it usually meant just one thing.
Baroness Margaret Laura Astor De Stuers had tried to leave her husband once before, but she was forced back because she was an Astor. It was 1889 and divorce could sully the Astor name, so she was forced to return to her husband. But when the Baron tried to have her committed permanently to a mental institution and she lost custody of her children, Maggie could be deterred no longer.
She headed to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, where, after a short residency in a luxury hotel on the prairie, she could finally get the divorce she wanted.
At that time, says White, the United States had a “patchwork” of divorce laws, each depending on the state’s lawmakers. South Dakota happened to have low residency requirements, meaning that a woman from New York only had to live in the west for a short time before a divorce was awarded. Of course, though, her husband could contest it...
Once was a time when Mary Nevins Blaine and her husband, Jamie, had been happy. That was when they were married: she, the nineteen-year-old daughter of a quiet but respectable family; he, the seventeen-year-old son of a powerful politician who thought Jamie married beneath his social strata. Mary got her divorce, and brought down a Presidential hopeful.
Blanche Molineux had never wanted to get married, and getting out of the one she got was a life-or-death matter: her husband, Roland, had been accused of murder. Flora Bigelow Dodge was known to be fearless but after she married, she feared she’d made a mistake. Smart, creative Flora just wanted peace, and she found it in a prairie town.
Divorce, it seems, is never an easy thing. So imagine what it was like before women had rights, and you’ve got the story inside “The Divorce Colony.”
Indeed, turn-of-the-last-century activists played a role in what happened in Sioux Falls, as did a cross-dressing Civil War physician, a powerful bishop, and a journalist who was hiding a secret. Author April White brings each of these figures to the table, placing them proper context so readers get a good feel for this surprising sliver of history.
Don’t think, though, that this is just boy-leaves-girl stuff. The stories White tells happened at the end of the Wild West days, and most of them reflect that; others are delightfully set in opulence. You’ll snicker a little (Oh, the scandal!) and your jaw will drop a time or three because this book is fascinating, unique, and perfect for historians, readers of women’s issues, and historical novel lovers. Start “The Divorce Colony,” and you’ll have a hard time leaving.