Friendly Notice: The following post contains frank discussion and spoilers for the television mini-series Sharp Objects.
Pardon me while I climb on my soapbox…
The past two summers have gifted us with heady, visually intriguing mini-series based on powerful works by women. Last year’sBig Little Lies, an adaptation of Lynne Moriarty’s 2015 novel broached the topic of domestic abuse, violence against women, and the repercussions–expected and unexpected–of that violence. This summer, HBO aired Sharp Objects,an adaptation of Gillian Flynn’s 2006 debut novel. Both productions were directed by Jean-Marc Vallée. They are both visually stunning, sensual, scenic productions that manage to convey as much (if not more) through silence than most productions do with pages and pages and pages of dialog. Sharp Objects was a languorous, slow-moving southern gothic that made you feel sweaty from the sweltering heat portrayed on the screen. Amy Adams’ performance was the stuff of legends and deserves applause, awards, and accolades.
Amy Adams in Sharp Objects, via The Wrap
However…
There be spoilers ahead, Matey! (And let’s also note that we are talking about these shows as adaptations. While we understand that the book and its film are independent pieces of art, they can also be considered side-by-side, which we are doing here).
We really need to talk about these endings. (Seriously. Spoilers. You’ve been warned.)
Both Big Little Lies and Sharp Objects are the kind of stories where the ending redefine the entire story, forcing the reader to go back, rethink the story they have just read, and contemplate not only the truth that’s been lurking under the surface, but also about how their assumptions about “good guys” and “bad guys” affected their ability to recognize what was going on. They are clear, coherent, wonderfully intelligent, and thoughtful. However, one of the major themes that connect both shows are the plethora of headlines talking about the “abrupt” and “confusing” endings. So let me be clear: neither book has a confusing ending. In fact, they are both notable and noteworthy for the definitive statements they make about women learning to heal from trauma.
Let’s stick, for now, with Sharp Objects, since it’s the freshest in my (and perhaps your) memory–and also because I’m more angry at it right now. In the book, journalist Camille Preaker is sent back to her hometown to investigate the murder of a young girl and the disappearance of another. From the beginning, we learn that Camille is depressed, self-harming (she carves words on her skin), and self-medicating with alcohol. We learn that her younger sister, Marian, the undisputed ‘favorite child’ died of an unknown or unspecified disease, leaving Camille alone and forced to cope with her narcissistic, manipulative mother Adora. Her return home refuels all the old tensions within her family, but now, Camille is focused on her half-sister Amma, some twenty years her junior, who is trapped with their mother and clearly coping badly. Amma lives a double life: she acts out, takes drugs, and drinks (among other problematic behavior) outside, but in her house, Amma regresses, becoming a meek, innocent child that their mother can care for and manipulate.
Over the course of the story, we learn that Camille’s mother Adora suffers from Munchausen syndrome by proxy, or, as it is now known, Factitious disorder imposed on another–a condition in which a caregiver develops a long-term mental disorder of a type involving a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, and harms the person in their care in order to be perceived as a helpful, saintly, martyr figure. Adora herself was responsible for the death of Camille’s sister and, indeed, nearly kills Camille and Amma by feeding them a tonic containing rat poison. The daughters are saved at the last moment, Adora is arrested, and Camille takes Amma to live with her. Things seem fine until a girl at Amma’s new school is murdered, and Camille realizes that Amma was the murderer of the two girls, driven to violent rage when she though that the girls were getting more attention from Adora than Amma herself. Distraught after Amma’s arrest, Camille uses a knife to carve more words into her back and very nearly begins cutting her face. She is saved by her editor, who takes her in. At the end of the book, Camille is living with the editor and his wife, and learning how to be part of a stable, loving family for once in her life. For the record, this is a very watered-down version of the plot, and you should still read it.
The mini-series which aired on HBO (and concluded on Sunday) ends with Camille discovering vital (and horribly gruesome) evidence of Amma’s guilt concealed in Amma’s creepy-as-sin dollhouse. Abruptly, we see Amma standing in the doorway. She whispers “Don’t tell Mama,” before a brutally quick cut to the credits. The only indication we have about the reality of Amma’s actions are a series of rapid-fire, hazy cuts that implicate Amma and her two friends in the deaths of the girls in Windgap, and Amma alone in the death of her friend from school. The final shot of the entire episode is Amma’s face.
There have been a number of critics who have taken issue with this ending for its style, for its glamorization of Amma’s cruelty, for its ambiguity. There is a lot to be said about this show, and this story, from the reality of female rage, the importance of telling women’s stories without pretense, or, indeed without needing male characters to justify their behavior. But what has gone largely overlooked here, is how it destroys the real power of Sharp Objects‘ ending.
As we’ve pointed out here before, there is a troubling, pervasive trope of women victims in fiction–not only in mysteries, but they remain a primary offender. For time immemorial, we have been treated to the image of a women’s silent body, violated and harmed. We have been taught that women endure pain as a permanent condition–think of Miss Havisham forever in her wedding dress; or Bertha Mason in the attic; or any female ghost who ever haunted a house. Women are vessels for pain in fiction, and we are taught to see that pain as inescapable.
Gillian Flynn flipped this trope on its head in Sharp Objects. From the beginning of the story, it seems that Camille is another damaged woman, trapped in her own pain. This is a character who quite literally carved her pain into her own flesh, making her skin both an armor against the world and a cage from which she can never (apparently) break free. In the show, we also learn in far more detail about the harm Camille endured as a result of the people in her town–yet another trap keeping her from healing. At the book’s end, however, we see that Camille has learned that there is a way out from the horrible cycle of illness, anger, self-loathing, and self-deception that her family and her town practice. She is given the choice and the opportunity to grow and heal–and she takes it.
That opportunity, that choice, that hope, is taken away from her in the mini-series. By giving us Amma’s face at the end of the show, Sharp Objects is no longer Camille’s story. Instead, she facilitates a story about Amma and Adora, and the ways in which violence destroys people, ruining the idea of a “pure victim.” This is not to say this is not an important trope. But to take away Camille’s hope is to perpetuate the notion that women in fiction (that women in general) suffer without resolution, and without real choice. To take away the book’s ending is to dilute the shocking feminist ending of Sharp Objects in favor of a far more problematic one. The miniseries states that women can be anything–victim, murderer, villain, or bystander. Again, this is fine. But the book says that women can change. And that is vital.
Personally, each and every one of us here agrees that we seemed to have slipped into a time vortex, and we are completely unable to account for the swiftness with which September is approaching. Professionally, however, we have been hard at work planning events, classes, concerts, and other programs here at the Library for you, beloved patrons. With the start of a new school year comes the potential for lots of learning, fun, and new beginnings, and we look forward to welcoming you to the Library for these events, and the many others listed on our website, soon! Registration is open for these events, so please call or go online to secure your place!
As always, please let us know what kinds of programs you would like to see offered here. We constantly try to meet the needs of the community, and your input is vital to ensuring we achieve that goal!
At the Main Library:
Monday, September 10, 6:00 – 7:30pm: All About Social Networking: Social Media Services and What’s Right for You
One of the easiest ways to stay in touch with friends and family is through social media. In this class we’ll walk you through the most popular social networks and talk about which ones are best for you. Feel free to bring your own smartphone and laptop or just follow along.
In the Creativity Lab:
Tuesday, September 4 & 11, 6:30 – 8:30pm: Sew a Personalized Wallet
No sewing experience necessary. In this two-session class, you will sew a fabric wallet from scratch. You will also learn how to make it yours with a custom embroidery design that will be stitched into the front. Fabric and sewing machines will be provided, but you may bring your own if you wish. This class is for ages 13-adult. Space is limited and sign up is required. Signing up for the first class session automatically registers you for the full two-session class.
At the West Branch:
Tuesday, September 18, 1:00 – 3:00pm: Eco Jewelry Making Workshop
Green Art Workshop Presents Eco Jewelry Making! Discover how to upcycle paper, metal, and natural objects into one-of-a-kind decor and wearable art! Play with your favorite eco-friendly materials and design earrings, a pendant, necklace, or bring an accessory to adorn. Please register in advance as space is limited to 15 participants. There is no charge and all materials will be provided, unless you want to bring an accessory of your own to adorn.
This program is made possible through the generous support of the Friends of the Peabody Institute Library.
At the South Branch:
Tuesday, September 25, 6:30pm – 8:30pm: peabody Recreation Department Fall Painting Program
The Peabody Institute Library’s South Branch will host Peabody Parks & Recreation Department’s Fall art class taught by Jeanette Lerner. This session will run 6 weeks on Tuesdays, September 25, October 2 & 30th, and November 6, 13, and 20 from 6:30-8:30pm. For more information or to register, please contact the Peabody Parks and Recreation Department at 978-536-0600.
And a very happy Free For All birthday to James Tiptree, Jr., also known as Alice B. Sheldon!
Via Wikipedia
Bradley was born on this day in 1915 in an upper-class suburb of Chicago. Her father Herbert, was a lawyer and naturalist, and her mother Mary Hastings Bradley, was a prolific fiction and travel writer. As a result, Mary had to opportunity to travel extensively from a young age. Between trips to Africa, she attended several schools in Chicago, Lausanne (Switzerland), and New York. At the age of 19 she dropped out of Sarah Lawrence College to marry William Davey, her first husband–a move that was largely driven by feelings of familial duty rather than love–became a graphic artist, a painter, and art critic for the Chicago Sun.
In 1942, following her divorce from Davey, she joined the United States Army Air Forces and worked in the Army Air Forces photo-intelligence group, rising all the way to the rank of major. In 1945 she married her second husband, Huntington D. Sheldon, and following her demobilization, the two set up a small business together, and Alice began publishing her short stories in magazines around the country. Although she and her husband were both invited to join the CIA, Alice worked for the institution for only three years before resigning and returning to college. She susequently graduated from American University in 1959, and earned her doctorate at George Washington University in Experimental Psychology in 1967. She also continued her science-fiction writing James Tiptree Jr., in order to protect her academic reputation. The name “Tiptree” came from a branded jar of marmalade, and the “Jr.” was her husband’s idea. In an interview, she said: “A male name seemed like good camouflage. I had the feeling that a man would slip by less observed. I’ve had too many experiences in my life of being the first woman in some damned occupation.”
Tiptree’s work is marked by her lifelong feminism. She worked across genres, forms, and styles, producing everything from space opera to hard science fiction. It was only in 1977 that it was announced that James Tiptree, Jr. and Alice Bradley were one and the same person. The James Tiptree Jr. Award, created by Karen Joy Fowler and Pat Murphy in 1991, is given in her honor each year for a work of science fiction or fantasy that expands or explores our understanding of gender.
And, as ever, what better way to celebrate than with more books! Here are just a few of the titles that meandered onto our shelves this week:
Scarface and the Untouchable: Al Capone, Eliot Ness, and the Battle for Chicago: In 1929, thirty-year-old gangster Al Capone ruled both Chicago’s underworld and its corrupt government. To a public who scorned Prohibition, “Scarface” became a local hero and national celebrity. But after the brutal St. Valentine’s Day Massacre transformed Capone into “Public Enemy Number One,” the federal government found an unlikely new hero in a twenty-seven-year-old Prohibition agent named Eliot Ness. Chosen to head the legendary law enforcement team known as “The Untouchables,” Ness set his sights on crippling Capone’s criminal empire. Max Allan Collins and A. Brad Schwartz utilized decades of primary source research—including the personal papers of Ness and his associates, newly released federal files, and long-forgotten crime magazines containing interviews with the gangsters and G-men themselves, and have crafted a compelling and engrossing history out of their epic fight for the streets of Chicago. Fans of Sara Parestsky’s work will no doubt be intrigued to hear that she contributed a blurb for this book, calling it “an extraordinary achievement. The writing is riveting, the research impeccable—including material never published before—and the history of a city and a country teetering on the brink of total lawlessness is a sober warning for our own age.”
The Sea Queen: Fans of Linnea Hartsuyker’s The Half-Drowned King will be all aboard for this riveting sequel. Six years have passed, and Ragnvald Eysteinsson is now king of Sogn. But fighting battles for King Harald keeps him away from home, as he confronts treachery and navigates a political landscape that grows more dangerous the higher he rises. Ragnvald’s sister Svanhild has found the freedom and adventure she craves at the side of the rebel explorer Solvi Hunthiofsson, though not without a cost. She longs for a home where her quiet son can grow strong, and a place where she can put down roots, even as Solvi’s ambition draws him back to Norway’s battles again and keeps her divided from her brother. As a growing rebellion unites King Harald’s enemies, Ragnvald suspects that some Norse nobles are not loyal to Harald’s dream of a unified Norway. He sets a plan in motion to defeat all of his enemies, and bring his sister back to his side, while Svanhild finds herself with no easy decisions, and no choices that will leave her truly free. Their choices will have repercussions not only for them, but for Norwegian history as a whole. Critics have been loving this series from its beginnings, and Library Journal gave this book a super review, noting “Hartsuyker is a wonderfully descriptive writer equally adept at penning truly horrifying battle scenes as depicting life in ninth-century Norway. Fans of History Channel’s Vikings should find this novel equally compelling.”
The Reservoir Tapes:If you’ve not read Jon McGregor’s Booker-Prize-nominated Reservoir 13, we first, highly suggest that you do that. And then pick up this book, which returns readers to the world of that same English village, and the community that is trying to grapple with the loss of one of its own. A teenage girl has gone missing. The whole community has been called upon to join the search. And now an interviewer arrives, intent on capturing the community’s unstable stories about life in the weeks and months before Becky Shaw vanished. Each villager has a memory to share or a secret to conceal, a connection to Becky that they are trying to make or break. With each interview, a fractured portrait of Becky emerges at the edges of our vision―a girl swimming, climbing, and smearing dirt onto a scared boy’s face, images to be cherished and challenged as the search for her goes on, and the deep ties that bind and strangle these villagers together become clear. This book adds stunning detail to the world that McGregor created in his first book, and the Los Angeles Times called it “scary stuff, this book, pounding as it does again and again with the insistent menace of people who go missing. But as the chapters accumulate, you begin to build a mental and emotional map of what’s left behind: a wounded town, fully specific enough to be engrossing but also slyly universal enough to make one consider their own common ground.”
Our House:Louise Candlish is a wizard at creating nightmares out of the most familiar scenarios, and this newest release puts all her talents on display. When Fiona Lawson comes home to find strangers moving into her house, she’s sure there’s been a mistake. She and her estranged husband, Bram, have a modern coparenting arrangement: bird’s nest custody, where each parent spends a few nights a week with their two sons at the prized family home to maintain stability for their children. But the system built to protect their family ends up putting them in terrible jeopardy. In a domino effect of crimes and misdemeanors, the nest comes tumbling down. Now Bram has disappeared and so have Fiona’s children. As events spiral well beyond her control, Fiona will discover just how many lies her husband was weaving and how little they truly knew each other. But Bram’s not the only one with things to hide, and some secrets are best kept to oneself, safe as houses. This book has been getting starred reviews across the board, with Booklist calling it a “twisty domestic thriller that features everything readers enjoy about the genre: dark secrets, unreliable narrators, a fast-moving plot, and a terrifyingly plausible premise. This could be summer’s breakout hit.”
Bone on Bone:Pulitzer-prize-winning author Julia Keller is back with another installment in her Bell Elkins series. After a three-year prison sentence, Bell Elkins is back in Acker’s Gap. And she finds herself in the white-hot center of a complicated and deadly case — even as she comes to terms with one last, devastating secret of her own. A prominent local family has fallen victim to the same sickness that infects the whole region: drug addiction. With mother against father, child against parent, and tensions that lead inexorably to tragedy, they are trapped in a grim, hopeless struggle with nowhere to turn. Bell has lost her job as prosecutor — but not her affection for her ragtag, hard-luck hometown. Teamed up with former Deputy Jake Oakes, who battles his own demons as he adjusts to life as a paraplegic, and aided by the new prosecutor, Rhonda Lovejoy, Bell tackles a case as poignant as it is perilous, as heartbreaking as it is challenging. This is series with a devoted following, and this installment itself has been winning over readers’ hearts and minds. Publisher’s Weekly gave it a starred review and noted “This thoughtful, painfully empathetic story will long linger in the reader’s memory.”
We’ve covered the Hugo Awards here before, beloved patrons, especially the attempt of a number of disaffected, insular members of WorldCon (the body responsible for suggesting nominees and winners) who have attempted to topple the awards to suit their own agendas. This year’s awards had nothing to do with them.
Instead, this year’s Hugos were marked by an historic win for N.K. Jemisin, who won her third consecutive Hugo for the third book in her Broken Earth trilogy. With this win, she becomes the first ever three-time winner of the Hugos (The Fifth Season won in 2016, and The Obelisk Gate won in 2017).
The Hugos are voted on by WorldCon members rather than by committee, and thus they’re generally seen as a barometer of changing trends and evolving conversations within sci-fi/fantasy (SFF) culture. By voting for Jemisin’s trilogy three years running, the speculative fiction community has effectively repudiated a years-long campaign, mounted by an alt-right subculture within its midst, to combat the recent rise to prominence of women and other marginalized voices in the SFF space.
But perhaps the best part of the whole award ceremony was Jemisin’s acceptance speech, in which she acknowledged the roots of her writing, her role within a community of story-tellers, and her hopes for the future through sci-fi and fantasy writing. We quote from the speech here in part, but you can read the whole thing here:
Via Vox.com
I get a lot of questions about where the themes of the Broken Earth trilogy come from. I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m drawing on the human history of structural oppression, as well as my feelings about this moment in American history. What may be less obvious, though, is how much of the story derives from my feelings about science fiction and fantasy. Then again, SFF is a microcosm of the wider world, in no way rarefied from the world’s pettiness or prejudice.
But another thing I tried to touch on in the Broken Earth is that life in a hard world is never just the struggle. Life is family, blood and found. Life is those allies who prove themselves worthy by actions and not just talk. Life means celebrating every victory, no matter how small.
So as I stand here before you, beneath these lights, I want you to remember that 2018 is also a good year. This is a year in which records have been set. A year in which even the most privilege-blindered of us has been forced to acknowledge that the world is broken and needs fixing—and that’s a good thing! Acknowledging the problem is the first step toward fixing it. I look to science fiction and fantasy as the aspirational drive of the Zeitgeist: we creators are the engineers of possibility. And as this genre finally, however grudgingly, acknowledges that the dreams of the marginalized matter and that all of us have a future, so will go the world. (Soon, I hope.)
The Free-for-All is delighted to congratulate all the winners on their achievements! Here is a selection of the list of winners. You can read the full list via the WorldCon 76 website.
We’ve talked here before about book hangovers, dear readers, where a book lingers for so long in your mind and heart that it’s difficult to find another book to suit. Today, we discuss one of our staff member’s experiences with just such a book: Unbury Carol, by Josh Malerman.
I grew up with westerns. My godfather, one of the most quietly enthusiastic readers I have ever known, would spend hours in used bookstores and library book sales, searching out pulp Western novels by Louis L’Amour and William W. Johnstone, delighting in the now-forgotten stories that had exclamation points in the title (Montana! or perhaps it was something less specific, like Ghostown!), or the pulp novels like the kind shown at left (via Rough Edges). My father grew up with the television show Gunsmoke and still watched re-runs with delight. But even though I was surrounded by westerns, and could appreciate the love that others had for them, I struggled to find the enduring appeal in them myself.. This was largely because all the westerns to which I was exposed featured white men fulfilling traditionally white, masculine roles, enforcing a white, masculine code of justice, and having all-male, almost exclusively all-white adventures. Though the women, like Miss Kitty in Gunsmoke, were strong, smart, and thoroughly capable, their screen time and their storylines were limited, especially in comparison to the men of Dodge. They hardly ever left the saloon, and when they did, it was always on the arm of a man who would shoo them away to safety if there was a concern that harm might befall them.
So I was personally delighted to discover that a new generation of writers have begun re-imagining ‘the Wild West’ as a place of diversity, of feminism, and of magic. The first such series for me was Laura Anne Gilman’s The Devil’s West series, which focuses on a young woman’s coming of age in an American West population by monsters, ghosts, and living embodiments of Native American myths that features characters who are both wise and vulnerable, and a setting that is positively immersive. And it was while casting around for another such book to enjoy that I discovered Josh Malerman’s Unbury Carol.Malerman’s novel The Bird Boxwas a genuinely unsettling, sensory delight, so I knew this story would be memorable. However, I wasn’t really prepared for how long this book, marketed as dark re-imagining of the Sleeping Beauty story, would linger with me.
Malerman, via his author website: http://joshmalerman.com/about-josh-malerman/
The book itself is set, to quote Malerman, “somewhere between a western novel and not”, with elements of supernatural horror and steampunk mixed in with the some of the more familiar aspects of the Western genre, including a long pursuit across a literal and emotional wasteland. Though it is an exceptionally white West, without Native American/Indians, Black folk, or Spanish-speaking characters, its fictional-ish setting redeems what it lacks in historical accuracy.
The heroine of this novel, the titular Carol, is precisely the kind of person that traditional westerns would tend to overlook: though her age is not specifically mentioned, she is no young ingenue. Carol is a self-assured married woman with her own fortune and relationships outside of her marriage. Indeed, when we meet her, she is mourning the loss of her closest friend, John Bowie, who has recently died of a mysterious and much-feared fever. Bowie, in addition to being one of the most intriguing secondary characters in recent memory, is also one of the only three people who knew the truth of her inexplicable condition–that she falls into a death-like comas during which she is completely paralyzed, but totally mentally alert. The only other people who know are her husband Dwight, who married her only for her money, and her own true love, the outlaw James Moxie, who abandoned Carol when she revealed her secret. Although she tries to share the secret with her maid, Carol tumbles into unconsciousness before she can fully explain the condition that has shaped her life.
As Carol falls into her next coma, we learn that her husband Dwight has a plan to steal her fortune by convincing the community that she is dead, and burying her alive. But Moxie also gets word of Dwight’s plan, thanks to the quick thinking of Carol’s maid, and he sets out to right the wrong that he committed against Carol so many years ago by facing up to her condition and rescuing her. At the same time, Moxie himself is being pursued by madman named Smoke, who is hellbent on foiling his plan, destroying Moxie’s formidable reputation, and unleashing hell in the process. And it is here that the fairytale parallels begin to fall apart, and the real imagination of Malerman’s story shines through, as these two men chase each other down a lonesome trail that is at once dreamlike in its fancifulness and tangibly real in its old-west scenery.
Via Smithsonian Magazine: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/gun-control-old-west-180968013/
As Jennifer Weiner so wisely pointed out in an editorial for The New York Times last summer, it seems that readers “can’t get away from the man-boy as hero…If boys will be boys, then girls must be grown-ups, whose job it is to protect men from their worst impulses.” On the surface, it seems that Unbury Carol is yet another rehashing of this idea, with immature men controlling the narrative for their own purposes; Dwight’s murder plot is a combination of cowardness and narcissism; Moxie’s whole life (and Carol’s, as well) has been shaped by his inability to face up to reality; the chillingly maniacal Smoke, is driven by a hatred for Moxie and his own insatiable addictions. Yet, even as this familiar premise plays out, Malerman subverts his own premise by letting us see Carol’s struggles in her coma to save herself, and to remember all her mother’s advice from her childhood. Moreover, Carol’s maid is the only person advocating for Carol throughout the book; and Moxie spends the story confronting his own demonic, destructive guilt, being forced to grow up and become worthy of the woman he still loves. Beneath the familiar fictional facade, this is a book that shows women working for the benefit of themselves and other women, and men who are forced to confront their own immaturity and selfishness. The final revelation about Carol’s fate was a pitch-perfect ending to this modern western, combining actual historical oddities and a powerful legacy of feminine agency. From beginning to end, this book subverted expectations, from the character’s agency in the main plot to the truth of James Moxie’s magical reputation. In challenging genre and gender assumptions, Malerman’s restructured, imaginative western is an unsettling, surprising, and spell-binding success.
Good day, dear readers! I hope you have enjoyed the last three posts in this series on creatures that are commonly (if not necessarily accurately) referred to as “living fossils”. If not, while not required to appreciate this post, I suggest reading Parts I,II, and III first, which examined such things as stromatolites, plants, monotremes, birds and mammals. Today’s offerings will include reptiles and amphibians.
Let’s start with perhaps one of the more famous animals in this list, the tuatara.
A frequent inclusion on listicles about “living fossils”, the tuatara is famed because of how unique a creature it is. Despite its appearance, it is not a lizard; it is a reptile, but not a lizard. Specifically, it’s a rhynchocephalian, the only member of order Rhynchocephalia. Its order is a sister to Squamata (lizards & kin), but it is a genetically distinct creature from a different lineage than lizards. It also differs from lizards in its preference for cooler temperatures, nocturnalness, its lack of external ears and its unusual dentition: instead of having just one row of teeth in each jaw, the tuatara has two rows of teeth in its upper jaw, which overlaps a single row in the lower jaw.
One of its most interesting features is not something unique to tuataras: its parietal eye, sometimes referred to as its “third eye”. Parietal eyes sit on the top of the head or on the forehead of a number of different reptiles, amphibians, and fish, and have different levels of functionality; however, this “eye” is most well-developed in tuataras. In other creatures, it’s sometimes visible as a gray scale or patch on the head; in tuataras, it’s only externally visible in the young, as it is covered with scales and pigment as they mature. Despite this, the parietal eye does receive and perceive light, which helps govern their circadian rhythm, hormones and temperature regulation.
Next we’re going to be speaking of salamanders, but I wanted to interrupt with a brief purple frog interlude.
It is my pleasure to introduce you to the very good purple frog (Nasikabatrachus sahyadrensis), also known as the pignose frog or the Indian purple frog. In addition to being pleasing to look upon, they’re one of only two species in their family Nasikabatrachidae. They are burrowing frogs that spend the majority of their lives underground, which does not make them especially easy to study. Unfortunately, they’re also listed as endangered on the IUCN Redlist due their habitats being turned into areas of agricultural cultivation.
But you know now that they exist (if you didn’t previously – their goofy appearance has caused them to pop up in memes and the like) and knowing is half the battle.
Our next featured creature are the giant salamanders, all of which live in east Asia (the Chinese and Japanese giant salamanders), except for eastern North America’s very own hellbender (as depicted above). The world’s largest amphibians, the Chinese giant salamander has been recorded reaching a maximum length of 5.9 ft (1.8 m), while the Japanese giant salamander comes in second at lengths of up to 4.7 ft (1.44 m). Comparatively, hellbenders are the fourth-largest amphibians in the world, growing up to 2.4 ft (73.6 cm), after the goliath frog (12.6 inches/32 cm, 7.17 lbs/3.25 kg).
An eastern hellbender held by a human, showing its own adorable amphibian hand. Photo credit: Peter Petokas/AP & NBC Philadelphia.
Speaking of hellbenders and Pennsylvania, in 2017 the legislative process to designate the eastern hellbender the official state amphibian of Pennsylvania began. Its journey to this lofty status is thus far incomplete, but be assured that we here at the Free-for-All will keep you abreast of the latest developments.
Next, I am proud to present one of the more charismatic living (not) fossils, the axolotl, also probably the most charismatic amphibian and salamander. QUICK AXOLOTL FACTS:
Axolotls are neotonous salamanders (meaning they can reach maturity without undergoing metamorphosis; alternatively, that they continue to exhibit juvenile traits in adulthood)
Despite their neotony, they can be artificially forced through metamorphosis.
Despite the high proportion of images you’ll encounter online of light-colored captive axolotls, they come in a range of shades.
They are popular pets! Axolotl.org and the caudata.org axolotl forums are happy to field all your questions about axolotl care and maintenance. Please note that they are not legal to keep in all U.S. states, so please check with your state’s department of fish, wildlife and game before purchasing.
You can cut the spinal cord, crush it, remove a segment, and it will regenerate. You can cut the limbs at any level—the wrist, the elbow, the upper arm—and it will regenerate, and it’s perfect. There is nothing missing, there’s no scarring on the skin at the site of amputation, every tissue is replaced. They can regenerate the same limb 50, 60, 100 times. And every time: perfect.
Cuvier’s dwarf caiman at rest. Despite the availability of people selling it as a pet, you should not keep it as a pet. Photo credit: McDonald Wildlife Photog. / Animals Animals / Arkive.org
While perhaps not as exotic, charismatic, or strange-looking as some of the animals I’ve profiled, but one cannot neglect the crocodilians, for they most certainly qualify as living fossils. The term “crocodilians” refers to members of order Crocodilia; in more lay-friendly terms, it broadly includes the crocodiles, the alligators and the gharials. Don’t worry, I didn’t forget caimans – they fall under family Alligatoridae, making them alligatorids.
Together, the crocodilians (living and extinct) and birds (living and extinct) form the clade group Archosauria, which includes the most recent common ancestor of both birds and crocodilians. This also means that the crocodilians are the closest living relatives of birds.
Gharials, crocodilians of the family Gavialidae. Photo credit: PSAnand/IUCN Redlist.
The dance of an archosaur! Two bipedal blue-footed boobies boogie beautifully on a blissful brown beach. Photo credit: Tui De Roy/ Minden Pictures / New Scientist
Let’s conclude today’s entry today as we traditionally do: with book recommendations! I think one or two may be a repeat, but perhaps that simply means the books are twice as sweet.
Following the fascinating history of the crocodile, this story tells the tale of an ancient animal whose ancestors have roamed the earth since the time of the dinosaurs. Addressing the true nature of this intriguing animal, this resource explores its evolutionary survival, the 23 living species in the world today, and the extinction they face due to habitat intrusion. Also explored are the myths and legends surrounding crocodiles and the vicious reputation they have amongst humans.
Frogs are worshipped for bringing nourishing rains, but blamed for devastating floods. Turtles are admired for their wisdom and longevity, but ridiculed for their sluggish and cowardly behavior. Snakes are respected for their ability to heal and restore life, but despised as symbols of evil. Lizards are revered as beneficent guardian spirits, but feared as the Devil himself.
In this ode to toads and snakes, newts and tuatara, crocodiles and tortoises, herpetologist and science writer Marty Crump explores folklore across the world and throughout time. From creation myths to trickster tales; from associations with fertility and rebirth to fire and rain; and from the use of herps in folk medicines and magic, as food, pets, and gods, to their roles in literature, visual art, music, and dance, Crump reveals both our love and hatred of amphibians and reptiles—and their perceived power. In a world where we keep home terrariums at the same time that we battle invasive cane toads, and where public attitudes often dictate that the cute and cuddly receive conservation priority over the slimy and venomous, she shows how our complex and conflicting perceptions threaten the conservation of these ecologically vital animals.
Sumptuously illustrated, Eye of Newt and Toe of Frog, Adder’s Fork and Lizard’s Leg is a beautiful and enthralling brew of natural history and folklore, sobering science and humor, that leaves us with one irrefutable lesson: love herps. Warts, scales, and all.
Since I’m spending quite a bit of time talking about evolution, I figured this could be an interesting text to our readers. What can we learn about the evolution of jaws from a pair of scissors? How does the flight of a tennis ball help explain how fish overcome drag? What do a spacesuit and a chicken egg have in common? Highlighting the fascinating twists and turns of evolution across more than 540 million years, paleobiologist Matthew Bonnan uses everyday objects to explain the emergence and adaptation of the vertebrate skeleton. What can camera lenses tell us about the eyes of marine reptiles? How does understanding what prevents a coffee mug from spilling help us understand the posture of dinosaurs? The answers to these and other intriguing questions illustrate how scientists have pieced together the history of vertebrates from their bare bones. With its engaging and informative text, plus more than 200 illustrative diagrams created by the author, The Bare Bones is an unconventional and reader-friendly introduction to the skeleton as an evolving machine.
Dinosaurs, with their awe-inspiring size, terrifying claws and teeth, and otherworldly abilities, occupy a sacred place in our childhoods. They loom over museum halls, thunder through movies, and are a fundamental part of our collective imagination. In My Beloved Brontosaurus, the dinosaur fanatic Brian Switek enriches the childlike sense of wonder these amazing creatures instill in us. Investigating the latest discoveries in paleontology, he breathes new life into old bones.
Switek reunites us with these mysterious creatures as he visits desolate excavation sites and hallowed museum vaults, exploring everything from the sex life of Apatosaurus and T. rex‘s feather-laden body to just why dinosaurs vanished. (And of course, on his journey, he celebrates the book’s titular hero, “Brontosaurus“—who suffered a second extinction when we learned he never existed at all—as a symbol of scientific progress.)
With infectious enthusiasm, Switek questions what we’ve long held to be true about these beasts, weaving in stories from his obsession with dinosaurs, which started when he was just knee-high to a Stegosaurus. Endearing, surprising, and essential to our understanding of our own evolution and our place on Earth, My Beloved Brontosaurus is a book that dinosaur fans and anyone interested in scientific progress will cherish for years to come.
Why feature this book? Turtles All the Way Down features the rare character of a tuatara (named “Tua”) in a work of fiction. 16-year-old Aza never intended to pursue the mystery of fugitive billionaire Russell Pickett, but there’s a hundred-thousand-dollar reward at stake and her Best and Most Fearless Friend, Daisy, is eager to investigate. So together, they navigate the short distance and broad divides that separate them from Russell Pickett’s son, Davis.
Aza is trying. She is trying to be a good daughter, a good friend, a good student, and maybe even a good detective, while also living within the ever-tightening spiral of her own thoughts.
In his long-awaited return, John Green, the acclaimed, award-winning author of Looking for Alaska and The Fault in Our Stars, shares Aza’s story with shattering, unflinching clarity in this brilliant novel of love, resilience, and the power of lifelong friendship.
(If you look down in the bottom left corner of the cover, you can see the smiling face of an axolotl.) From medieval bestiaries to Borges’s Book of Imaginary Beings, we’ve long been enchanted by extraordinary animals, be they terrifying three-headed dogs or asps impervious to a snake charmer’s song. But bestiaries are more than just zany zoology—they are artful attempts to convey broader beliefs about human beings and the natural order. Today, we no longer fear sea monsters or banshees. But from the infamous honey badger to the giant squid, animals continue to captivate us with the things they can do and the things they cannot, what we know about them and what we don’t.
With The Book of Barely Imagined Beings, Caspar Henderson offers readers a fascinating, beautifully produced modern-day menagerie. But whereas medieval bestiaries were often based on folklore and myth, the creatures that abound in Henderson’s book—from the axolotl to the zebrafish—are, with one exception, very much with us, albeit sometimes in depleted numbers. The Book of Barely Imagined Beings transports readers to a world of real creatures that seem as if they should be made up—that are somehow more astonishing than anything we might have imagined. The yeti crab, for example, uses its furry claws to farm the bacteria on which it feeds. The waterbear, meanwhile, is among nature’s “extreme survivors,” able to withstand a week unprotected in outer space. These and other strange and surprising species invite readers to reflect on what we value—or fail to value—and what we might change.
Aretha Franklin sings during a recording session at Atlantic Records on January 9, 1969, in New York City. Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images, via Vox
And it is with heavy, but inspired hearts that we bid farewell to Aretha Franklin, who passed away on August 16 of pancreatic cancer, at the age of 76. A signer of undisputed quality and unrivaled power, the “Queen Of Soul” created an amazing legacy that spans an incredible six decades, from her first recording as a teenage gospel star to her latest release of Diva Classics. The recipient of the U.S.A.’s highest civilian honor, The Presidential Medal Of Freedom, and eighteen Grammy awards (to date), Franklin was a voice for people who had none. Her music spoke to our hearts, and her work within the Civil Rights Movement offered hope and inspiration to generations of people across the country. As Candace Allen wrote in The Guardian:
Before Aretha we’d been girls listening to girls who sang of girlish things: fun and dancing, the ups and downs of puppy love. Securely girdled into lovely girlish dresses, they cooed and swayed with ladylike gestures and graceful steps that produced very little sweat, and we’d been more than happy with that; but then came this voice that ripped and curved, caressed, cried and emphasised. Songs tumbling out at a phenomenal pace with lyrics at once about love, black personhood and pride, and a voice that punched out our points about that elusive good man and appreciative nation…She gave us strength. Singing, dancing and politically organising together, or in the privacy of our dorm rooms, each and every one of us was not only Somebody but Everything.
Last March, in honor of her birthday, Entertainment Weeklyput together a photo montage of her life. These photos show a woman with confidence in her talents and her own power, and the remarkable career she forged. We hope you enjoy browsing through them and remembering Ms. Franklin as much as we did!
And now, a look at some of the books that sashayed onto our shelves this week, and are looking forward to sharing your weekend adventures!
Flights: We are delighted to have the Man Booker International Prize winning novel on our shelves at last! From Polish writer Olga Tokarczuk comes a series of essays that interweave reflections on travel with an in-depth exploration of the human body, broaching life, death, motion, and migration. Chopin’s heart is carried back to Warsaw in secret by his adoring sister. A woman must return to her native Poland in order to poison her terminally ill high school sweetheart, and a young man slowly descends into madness when his wife and child mysteriously vanish during a vacation and just as suddenly reappear. Through these brilliantly imagined characters and stories, interwoven with haunting, playful, and revelatory meditations, Flights explores what it means to be a traveler, a wanderer, a body in motion not only through space but through time. The Los Angeles Review of Books was just one of the outlets that offered glowing praise for this book, noting “Tokarczuk is one of Europe’s most daring and original writers, and this astonishing performance is her glittering, bravura entry in the literature of ideas… A select few novels possess the wonder of music, and this is one of them…An international, mercurial, and always generous book, to be endlessly revisited.”
Burden: A Preacher, a Klansman, and a True Story of Redemption in the Modern South: In 1996, the town of Laurens, South Carolina, was thrust into the international spotlight when a white supremacist named Michael Burden opened a museum celebrating the Ku Klux Klan on the community’s main square. Journalists and protestors flooded the town, and hate groups rallied to the establishment’s defense, dredging up the long history of racial violence in this formerly prosperous mill town. What happened next was as remarkable as it was unpredictable: shortly after his museum opened, Michael Burden abruptly left the Klan at the urging of a woman he fell in love with. Broke and homeless, he was taken in by Reverend David Kennedy, an African American preacher and leader in the Laurens community, who plunged his church headlong in a quest to save their former enemy. The events of this book are being turned into a feature film starring Forest Whitaker, Garrett Hedlund, Tom Wilkinson, Andrea Riseborough, and Usher Raymond, but before its release, check out the book that Bret Witter, bestselling co-author of The Monuments Men, hailed in his blurb as follows: “By digging deep and exhaustingly researching one small relationship in one small South Carolina town, Courtney Hargrave uncovers the big truths that usually elude us. This is an honest, empowering, incredibly enjoyable, and unforgettable book.”
The Ruin: Those looking for a stellar noir mystery to heat up their summer reading need look no further than Dervla McTiernan’s debut. When Aisling Conroy’s boyfriend Jack is found in the freezing black waters of the river Corrib, the police tell her it was suicide. A surgical resident, she throws herself into study and work, trying to forget–until Jack’s sister Maude shows up. Maude suspects foul play, and she is determined to prove it. Cormac Reilly is the detective assigned with the re-investigation of a seemingly accidental overdose twenty years ago–the overdose of Jack and Maude’s drug and alcohol addled mother. Detective Reilly is under increasing pressure to charge Maude for murder when his colleague Danny uncovers a piece of evidence that will change everything. This is a wonderfully claustrophobic book that deals with the secrets hidden in a small Irish town, and the laws that govern places outside the bounds of traditional rules. This book has made several ‘best of’ and ‘most highly anticipated’ lists, with Publisher’s Weekly giving it a starred review and calling it ““Powerful . . . McTiernan neatly ties [the threads of the novel] all together in the suspenseful conclusion. McTiernan, born in Ireland but now living in Australia, is a writer to watch.”
Our Homesick Songs: Emma Hooper’s latest novel is one for music lovers, nature lovers, and literature lovers alike. The Connor family is one of the few that is still left in their idyllic fishing village, Big Running; after the fish mysteriously disappeared, most families had no choice but to relocate and find work elsewhere. Aidan and Martha Connor now spend alternate months of the year working at an energy site up north to support their children, Cora and Finn. But soon the family fears they’ll have to leave Big Running for good, placing a strain on their marriage that continues to drive them farther apart. Between his accordion lessons and reading up on Big Running’s local flora and fauna, eleven-year-old Finn Connor develops an obsession with solving the mystery of the missing fish. While Finn schemes, his sister Cora spends her days decorating the abandoned houses in Big Running with global flair, but it’s clear she’s desperate for a bigger life beyond the shores of her small town. As the streets of Big Running continue to empty Cora takes matters—and her family’s shared destinies—into her own hands. This may be a story about one small family, but there are big themes here about love, loss, home, and self that have been earning rave reviews from critics, including Booklist, who gave it a starred review, and called it a “haunting fable about the transformative power of hope.”
The Line That Held Us: David Joy’s novel is drawing comparisons to Faulkner for its emotional depth and personal insight, as well as rave reviews from critics who love Joy’s unique storytelling powers. When Darl Moody went hunting after a monster buck he’s chased for years, he never expected he’d accidentally shoot a man digging ginseng. Worse yet, he’s killed a Brewer, a family notorious for vengeance and violence. With nowhere to turn, Darl calls on the help of the only man he knows will answer, his best friend, Calvin Hooper. But when Dwayne Brewer comes looking for his missing brother and stumbles onto a blood trail leading straight back to Darl and Calvin, a nightmare of revenge rips apart their world. This is a tale of friendship and family, set in a place where the only hope is to hold on tight, clenching to those you love. It’s a dark and gut-wrenching tale, but one that is also stylistically beautiful and gripping. Publisher’s Weekly noted “Joy pulls no punches in this stark and violent examination of sacrifice and suffering. . . . The paranoia that builds alongside Dwayne’s and Calvin’s troubled rumination [culminates] by the end in the powerful possibility of collective redemption. Fans of Frank Bill and Cormac McCarthy will enjoy this gritty thriller.”
"Once you learn to read, you will be forever free." ~Frederick Douglass
Over the course of the story, we learn that Camille’s mother Adora suffers from Munchausen syndrome by proxy, or, as it is now known, Factitious disorder imposed on another–a condition in which a caregiver develops a long-term mental disorder of a type involving a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, and harms the person in their care in order to be perceived as a helpful, saintly, martyr figure. Adora herself was responsible for the death of Camille’s sister and, indeed, nearly kills Camille and Amma by feeding them a tonic containing rat poison. The daughters are saved at the last moment, Adora is arrested, and Camille takes Amma to live with her. Things seem fine until a girl at Amma’s new school is murdered, and Camille realizes that Amma was the murderer of the two girls, driven to violent rage when she though that the girls were getting more attention from Adora than Amma herself. Distraught after Amma’s arrest, Camille uses a knife to carve more words into her back and very nearly begins cutting her face. She is saved by her editor, who takes her in. At the end of the book, Camille is living with the editor and his wife, and learning how to be part of a stable, loving family for once in her life. For the record, this is a very watered-down version of the plot, and you should still read it.
The Hugos are voted on by WorldCon members rather than by committee, and thus they’re generally seen as a barometer of changing trends and evolving conversations within sci-fi/fantasy (SFF) culture. By voting for Jemisin’s trilogy three years running, the speculative fiction community has effectively repudiated a years-long campaign, mounted by an alt-right subculture within its midst, to combat the recent rise to prominence of women and other marginalized voices in the SFF space./cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/60970967/Screen_Shot_2018_08_21_at_10.47.24_AM.0.png)
re-runs with delight. But even though I was surrounded by westerns, and could appreciate the love that others had for them, I struggled to find the enduring appeal in them myself.. This was largely because all the westerns to which I was exposed featured white men fulfilling traditionally white, masculine roles, enforcing a white, masculine code of justice, and having all-male, almost exclusively all-white adventures. Though the women, like Miss Kitty in 
