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| 4 out of 5 stars |
Do fishes think?
Do they really have three-second memories? And can they recognize the
humans who peer back at them from above the surface of the water? In
What a Fish Knows, the myth-busting ethologist Jonathan Balcombe
addresses these questions and more, taking us under the sea, through
streams and estuaries, and to the other side of the aquarium glass to
reveal the surprising capabilities of fishes. Although there are more
than thirty thousand species of fish—more than all mammals, birds,
reptiles, and amphibians combined—we rarely consider how individual
fishes think, feel, and behave. Balcombe upends our assumptions about
fishes, portraying them not as unfeeling, dead-eyed feeding machines but
as sentient, aware, social, and even Machiavellian—in other words, much
like us.
What a Fish Knows draws on the latest science
to present a fresh look at these remarkable creatures in all their
breathtaking diversity and beauty. Fishes conduct elaborate courtship
rituals and develop lifelong bonds with shoalmates. They also plan, hunt
cooperatively, use tools, curry favor, deceive one another, and punish
wrongdoers. We may imagine that fishes lead simple, fleeting lives—a
mode of existence that boils down to a place on the food chain, rote
spawning, and lots of aimless swimming. But, as Balcombe demonstrates,
the truth is far richer and more complex, worthy of the grandest social
novel.
Highlighting breakthrough discoveries from
fish enthusiasts and scientists around the world and pondering his own
encounters with fishes, Balcombe examines the fascinating means by which
fishes gain knowledge of the places they inhabit, from shallow tide
pools to the deepest reaches of the ocean.
Fish get short shrift when
we are thinking about animal behaviour. Consider the poor maligned gold
fish, which is reputed to have an attention span of mere seconds.
Incorrect, as it turns out—gold fish can learn tasks and retain that
learning for months.
I’m not a diver. I can’t swim and water
will always be a scary place for me, but I can see where this book would
be very interesting to anyone who spends time in the underwater world.
Fish are much more interesting that I gave them credit for. I’m a
birder, after all, and so I’m a little biased (although I certainly know
that the term “bird brain” is actually more of a compliment than an
insult).
It’s difficult for us to imagine what a fish’s life is
like—they live in a completely different medium than we do, have extra
senses that we can’t fathom, and have unexpressive faces. I think that
last point is the one that leads us to underestimate fishes—we value
expressiveness over evidence, I think, because it’s something we’re good
at.
If you are interested in matters of animal intelligence (and human judginess) I would recommend Franz de Waal’s excellent book Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are?.
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| 3.5 out of 5 stars |
The tall,
handsome Abdul Karim was just twenty-four years old when he arrived in
England from Agra to wait at tables during Queen Victoria's Golden
Jubilee. An assistant clerk at Agra Central Jail, he suddenly found
himself a personal attendant to the Empress of India herself. Within a
year, he was established as a powerful figure at court, becoming the
queen's teacher, or Munshi, and instructing her in Urdu and Indian
affairs. Devastated by the death of John Brown, her Scottish gillie, the
queen had at last found his replacement. But her intense and
controversial relationship with the Munshi led to a near-revolt in the
royal household. Victoria & Abdul examines how a young Indian Muslim
came to play a central role at the heart of the Empire, and his
influence over the queen at a time when independence movements in the
sub-continent were growing in force. Yet, at its heart, it is a tender
love story between an ordinary Indian and his elderly queen, a
relationship that survived the best attempts to destroy it.
I saw the film based on
this book last year and really enjoyed it, but I had to wonder how much
the screenwriters had fiddled with the facts to make a more engaging
film. When I saw that this year’s PopSugar challenge included a category
called “Book made into a movie that you’ve already seen,” I immediately
knew which book I would be reading.
I was grateful for the
author’s footnotes and references—she certainly did her research. I
think we all feel we “know” about Queen Victoria, but I found I really
only had a general impression of the woman. I had no idea until seeing
the film that she had Indian people serving in her household or that she
had become close friends with one of them.
In many ways, this
is a story of a lonely woman who finds a friend and a new interest in
life. I would agree with the author, that Her Maj was a romantic at
heart and the exoticness of India (in comparison to Britain) was what
drew her to Abdul Karim and his culture. I was impressed by her devotion
to the study of Urdu and her proficiency in that language at the end of
her life—she got a late start, but made excellent headway on a language
that was far different than others she was used to.
As Abdul
became one of her favourites, it was inevitable that he would become the
target of people who were jealous. The Queen believed much of the
rivalry to be a result of racism, and I would have to agree with her
assessment. If Abdul had been a white man (like John Brown), there would
still have been resentment, but not the volcanic rage that seemed to
permeate the Royal Household regarding this Indian man. It must have
been a very lonely life for Abdul, as well, with the other Indians
begrudging him his relationship with the Queen, not to mention the
hatred of the Caucasian members of staff.
Regarding the film
versus the book, I think the film stayed pretty true to the facts. There
were a few events that were left out (you can’t include everything) and
a few things where the order of events may have been slightly changed,
but it remained very true to the feel of the book. Overall, I would say
that I enjoyed the film more.
An interesting window into the life of an intriguing woman.
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| 5 out of 5 stars |
‘I really did have an empire, you know,’ said Dunbar. ‘Have I ever told you the story of how it was stolen from me?’
Henry
Dunbar, the once all-powerful head of a global corporation, is not
having a good day. In his dotage he handed over care of the family firm
to his two eldest daughters, Abby and Megan. But relations quickly
soured, leaving him doubting the wisdom of past decisions...
Now
imprisoned in a care home in the Lake District with only a demented
alcoholic comedian as company, Dunbar starts planning his escape. As he
flees into the hills, his family is hot on his heels. But who will find
him first, his beloved youngest daughter, Florence, or the tigresses
Abby and Megan, so keen to divest him of his estate?
This is the Hogath
Shakespeare’s version of King Lear, a play that I have seen performed at
least twice in the last couple of years. It’s a powerful story and I
would imagine that it would be a daunting piece to take on in a
retelling such as this one, but Edward St. Aubyn was certainly up to the
task!
I picked it up Sunday morning, meaning to just get a start
on it. After all, I already knew the inevitable ending—everybody dies,
right? But St. Aubyn’s creation grabbed me and would not let go! He made
it fresh with Henry Dunbar, the media mogul, whose hubris has brought
him low. I read the entire thing before lunch!
I was impressed by
both performances of Lear that I’ve seen, but they both played up Lear
as suffering from dementia, as that’s one of the concerns of modern
society. But St. Aubyn returned to Shakespeare’s original intention, I
think, that Dunbar is brought low by his desire to have privilege
without responsibility. Like Lear in the play, Dunbar regains his wits
just long enough to realize all that he has lost, a truly tragic ending.
I
really loved the drunken comedian, Peter Walker, in his role as the
fool. That was an inspired bit of casting on the author’s part.
How have I not read any of St. Aubyn’s work before? That mistake must be corrected!
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| 3 out of 5 stars |
Based on the
experience of real-life Auschwitz prisoner Dita Kraus, this is the
incredible story of a girl who risked her life to keep the magic of
books alive during the Holocaust.
Fourteen-year-old
Dita is one of the many imprisoned by the Nazis at Auschwitz. Taken,
along with her mother and father, from the Terezín ghetto in Prague,
Dita is adjusting to the constant terror that is life in the camp. When
Jewish leader Freddy Hirsch asks Dita to take charge of the eight
precious volumes the prisoners have managed to sneak past the guards,
she agrees. And so Dita becomes the librarian of Auschwitz.
I enjoyed this book quite a
bit, but I must admit that I was hoping for more. The story itself is
fascinating and that’s what kept me reading. The writing was pedestrian,
which was a disappointment. Still, I would recommend the book to those
looking for an inspirational story concerning Auschwitz.
The
narrative closely follows Dita Kraus, a 14 year old girl in the
Auschwitz family camp and her experiences as the keeper and protector of
eight forbidden books. I was interested that one of them was a history
text by H.G. Wells, as I have been cataloguing a large collection of
Wells’ writing during my work hours. I was also glad to see that they
had several people that they designated as “living books” because they
could tell certain stories (one woman could recount The Count of Monte
Cristo). The concept of living books has recently been used at our
city’s public library, so I was thrilled to see an example of the
history of the practice.
If this time period and setting are interests of yours, I would recommend this book.
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| 2.5-3 stars out of 5 |
Hostile
in ways that a surface-dweller could never know, the tunnel-mazes of the
Underdark challenge all who tread there. Among these souls are Drizzt
Do’Urden and his magical cat, Guenhwyvar. Exiled from his drow homeland,
Drizzt must fight for a new home in the boundless labyrinth. Meanwhile,
he must watch for signs of pursuit—for the dark elves are not a
forgiving race.
The books in this series
have the virtue of being quick & easy to read, perfect for a Friday
evening after a long work week. This is book two of Drizzt’s back
story—wherein he lives by himself in the tunnels of the Underdark until
he can’t take the solitude anymore and seeks companionship with mixed
results.
As one of my cousins pointed out to me, Salvatore writes
great fight scenes and they are very much on display in this
installment. In fact, the book is basically a series of fights, stitched
together with a very little bit of plot. I will also give Salvatore
credit for inventing some great Underdark creatures and cultures for
Drizzt to fight with.
Book number 274 in my Science Fiction & Fantasy Reading Project.
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| 4 out of 5 stars |
Grace Marks has
been convicted for her involvement in the vicious murders of her
employer, Thomas Kinnear, and Nancy Montgomery, his housekeeper and
mistress. Some believe Grace is innocent; others think her evil or
insane. Now serving a life sentence, Grace claims to have no memory of
the murders.
Dr. Simon Jordan, an up-and-coming expert in the
burgeoning field of mental illness, is engaged by a group of reformers
and spiritualists who seek a pardon for Grace. He listens to her story
while bringing her closer and closer to the day she cannot remember.
What will he find in attempting to unlock her memories? Is Grace a
female fiend? A bloodthirsty femme fatale? Or is she the victim of
circumstances?
I read this novel to fill
the A in my Women Authors A to Z reading challenge and a “Book about a
villain or anti-hero” for my 2018 PopSugar challenge.
For me, Margaret Atwood rarely disappoints and Alias Grace
was no exception. Despite the fact that I’m recovering from a nasty
cold and need all the sleep that I can get, I found myself up after
bedtime, obsessively following the life of Grace Marks. Atwood has taken
a historical figure and told her story—sticking to the facts, but
embroidering around them in a beguiling fashion.
The themes are
timeless—who is telling the truth? Whose truth? Who are we to believe?
Does the justice system really offer us justice? Who gets to decide?
Though
much of the novel is seen through Grace’s eyes, I still didn’t feel
like I knew her well enough to judge—did she assist with the murders or
was she merely an accessory after the fact? All of the might-have-beens
weighed heavily on me. If only she had chosen this path or that one,
things might have been so different.
A truly engrossing story.
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| 3.5 stars out of 5 |
Jean Mason has a
doppelganger. At least, that's what people tell her. Apparently it hangs
out in Kensington Market, where it sometimes buys churros and shops for
hats. Jean doesn't rattle easy, not like she used to. She's a grown
woman with a husband and two kids, as well as a thriving business, and
Toronto is a fresh start for the whole family. She certainly doesn't
want to get involved in anything dubious, but still . . . why would two
different strangers swear up and down they'd just seen her--with shorter
hair furthermore?
Jean's curiosity quickly gets the better of
her, and she visits the market, but sees no one who looks like her. The
next day, she goes back to look again. And the day after that. Before
she knows it, she's spending an hour here, an afternoon there, watching,
taking notes, obsessing and getting scared. With the aid of a small
army of locals who hang around in the market's only park, she expands
her surveillance, making it known she'll pay for information or
sightings. A peculiar collection of drug addicts, scam artists,
philanthropists, philosophers and vagrants--the regulars of Bellevue
Square--are eager to contribute to Jean's investigation. But when some
of them start disappearing, it becomes apparent that her alleged double
has a sinister agenda. Unless Jean stops her, she and everyone she cares
about will face a fate stranger than death
I rate this book at 3.5
stars. This despite the fact that I almost quit reading about halfway
through it. At that point, it seemed like just another domestic noir
novel and I couldn’t see why it was a Giller prize finalist—what could
it possibly offer to deserve that? But I was home on a snowy day,
appointments cancelled, coffee waiting, reading blanket at the ready,
and I decided that I would give it a few more pages.
Suddenly
things took a completely unexpected turn. I found myself questioning
everything. The rest of the book slaloms back and forth between
realities until I couldn’t distinguish between them anymore. I was
hooked.
And then it ended. Those of you who know me, know that I
like messy and ambiguous endings. Except this one. I was left absolutely
baffled and unsure what the point of the whole exercise actually was.
This was too much even for me.
Apparently there are two more similar books to come. I doubt that I will bother with them after this experience.
