Snakebit traces the author’s journey from a childhood fascination with snakes and amphibians, through academic flirtation, to professional association with some of the world’s greatest herpetologists. It leads the reader through desert, swamp, jungle, and lab to reveal the strange world of these cryptic creatures and the often stranger fraternity that pursues them. Both celebrating and sending up the science and philosophy surrounding what surely seems insanity to some, Snakebit is packed with personalities, history, geography, culture, and an eclectic mix of locales.
Anthony trained as a herpetologist, but transitioned to a science writer. This book describes the authors background and his experiences in herpetology, in an amusing fashion.
The prologue describes a journey to Finnish Lapland for a ski story. His official escort spoke of snow snakes, but rather than fictitious creatures that cause one to catch their edges, it turned out that the venomous European Adder appears on the first exposed ground in the spring in order to make the most of the short summer.
The book describes various travels in search of snakes and includes many observations of herpetology and the animals themselves.
Pros: -Fun, anecdotal stories about being a herper from youth to adulthood. -Great educational information, particularly around reproduction and taxonomy.
Cons: -When describing foreign places or foods they were often made the butt of the joke, particularly in Asia. -Sometimes while trying to be funny there were just too many descriptors that messed with sentence flow and lost the joke.
Here’s a great example of authorial voice – and of how voice can ruin a book. There’s something so irritating, so self-complacent, so alternately geeky and wonky (and neither in the good way) about Anthony’s voice that wading through the text becomes a chore. You’d think he would have an advantage: he’s a life-long “herp” addict and a professionally trained herpetologist who now stands “outside” the field (he left the profession to become a journalist) and, specifically, outside the snake pit (sorry) of academia, which is where most herpetologists ply their trade. And yet it’s all sort of dejected—he goes snake hunting with characters who can most kindly be described as “colorful” but spends almost all his time kvetching about how he doesn’t trust them, isn’t comfortable, and isn’t having all that much fun. (If you weren’t having a good time, Leslie, try to imagine what a joy it is to read about it.) He comments only briefly on the fact that the professional herpetologists he frequents are ostensibly conservationists, but in fact devote a great deal of energy to chasing down the members of endangered species and murdering them (the need for “specimens” is evidently insatiable, and one is hard-pressed to understand the difference between scientists who kill animals for academic reward and “hunters” who kill them for whatever inchoate joy that endeavor provides). Through it all, Anthony puns and comments wryly and makes droll asides, all of which might be tolerable if he were even remotely amusing. Sadly, he isn’t. Rather, he gives the sense of someone who has responded awkwardly to an editor’s suggestion that a book whose subject is science requires a running South Park-style laugh track or no reader will manage to arrive at the end of a page with actual Latin on it. I’d like to suggest a new rating system for popular science books: RS for “real science” and DC for people who can only tolerate the level of cretinous, faux-scientific drivel that the Discovery Channel pumps out like bilge water. The ones – like Snakebit – that try to play it both ways are sterile hybrids and deserve to be put out of their misery.
In Leslie Anthony, the world of biology has received a gift from above: a herpetologist, who is actually a journalist, and can therefore write. Usually these kinds of books tell a few good stories badly, and then tempt the reader to skim everywhere else. Anthony, on the other hand, can make a discussion of salamander ploidy interesting, which should probably have its own Pulitzer prize category (seriously, ploidy). If you've every thought about reading a book in this genre, you won't be able to do better than this one. Clever, interesting, well told, and occasionally side-splittingly funny, this is the shining star of its genre.
As a side note, his writing was hilariously and at times almost unbelievably like P.J. O'Rourke's. I almost couldn't believe what was happening when he travelogued about trying to get through government bureaucracy in post-Communist Vietnam. His writing has all the same hilarity, penchant for occasional off-color humor, and snappiness, all written with a classic O'Rourke overlay of existential despair. They would probably despise each other if they ever met, but that meeting would be well worth the watching.
If I could, I'd give this book 3.5 stars. It was a pleasant read, but I felt that the narrative jumped around a bit too much for my liking. I also found some sections a lot more interesting than others, but I think that's to be expected. This is not just a book about snakes; it's a book about adventure, exploring and the bizarre things that happen when a person collects snakes. I liked that there were so many Canadian details included in this book. I also appreciated the author's fine sense of humour!
I'm ashamed to admit that I stopped reading this half-way through. I generally don't like to do that, but this book really wasn't holding my attention. It totally delivered what it advertised, "confessions of a herpetologist", but it turned out that I wanted less info about the evolution of the author's career and more info about biology and natural history. It was nobodies fault...Well, written with a good amount of humor and the parts that did focus on the science were clear and well explained.
I was talked into purchasing and reading this book by the author himself and I started reading it with trepidation that he was a "snake oil salesman". I happily report that he isn't. Instead, Leslie Anthony is a cleaver wordsmith who combines his scientific knowledge, hands-on experiences and wit to expose the wondrous and wacky word of herpetology to the unsuspecting public. I highly recommend it to readers interested in creative non-fiction like Orchid Thief and Salt.
Came recommended by the boy, who's more into snakes than I am. Was a bit lost. It's well-written and the anecdotes are funny and really jump out but the jargon around each good story makes it clear this was intended for an audience already familiar with herpetology.