It took me a long time to read this book--bits and pieces over 8 months--because it made me so uncomfortable, but in a good, thought-provoking way. In a chapter about fleas, lice, and other skin-infesting bugs, Jeffrey Lockwood proposes that, so great is the power of suggestion about these insects, that the reader will find him/herself itching and scratching by the end of the chapter. And I did.
Jeffrey Lockwood is an entomologist who is also a Renaissance man. He was studying grasshopper swarms when he was engulfed by a swarm of "Biblical proportions" in Wyoming and experienced a horrific panic attack. Just the description of it makes my skin crawl. From this, he developed a grasshopper phobia. Not a good thing for his profession. He is not alone. Salvador Dali had a grasshopper phobia--and so do I. The book is in part about human horror of insects (horror=fear + revulsion) and also about Lockwood's journey through the phobia. In studying phobias, Lockwood has since expanded his research into psychology and the humanities and is a professor of philosophy and creative writing at University of Wyoming.
In the process of facing his phobia, Lockwood examined all aspects of human-insect relationships--from horror to love to awe. He draws on art, literature, philosophy, and even his friends, i.e. an exterminator and a couple who literally opened their home to spiders and other insects.
My favorite chapter was about bedbugs. Lockwood, with his holistic and interdisciplinary approach to insects, draws brilliant comparisons between humans' attitudes toward bed bugs and vampires. ("They never die" says one fearful individual about bedbugs.) Bed bugs have also been linked to "the other"--people from other countries, immigrants, people who are less hygienic than you or I. A bedbug infestation can lead to rejection by friends, acquaintances, and even business associates. True story: if you return a library book with a bedbug in it, your name can go on a list and all of your future returns frozen before returning to the collection. People who have had and eradicated bedbugs, await their return--like hungry vampires waiting for a blood meal.
My grasshopper phobia originated in a situation similar to Lockwood's (but much less severe) when I was a child. I was walking through a field with my mother and we were suddenly swarmed by grasshoppers. They were in my clothes and hair and sticking to my skin. Of course, once other kids discovered this weakness, I was fair game. I found them in my desk, down my shirt, and thrust at me out of nowhere. I hated to go out for recess because there were quite a few in our playground. I had to leave a football game in college because they were swarming the stands--first game of the fall, they had been living there all summer, and they were disturbed.
My own grasshopper phobia has improved quite a bit since having to feed crickets--including really big ones--to my pet tarantulas. I have even been able to pick them up with my fingers if they get on the floor. I am able to walk through a field with flying grasshoppers in it. No swarms, please.
I am interested in why I have the grasshopper phobia, but have no fear of snakes or spiders. The book addresses characteristics that creep people out: skittering, getting under the skin, infesting food and dwellings, sticking in hair or on clothing, and blood sucking. Flying, startling, and landing in my clothes and hair trigger my fears. Universally detested cockroaches are associated with filth and nasty living conditions, but--on the other hand--some people admire them for their persistence and survival.
Lockwood has written a creative, compelling study and why we fear insects and the lengths we are going to in order to make sure we never have to encounter one--to our own detriment, in some cases.
NB: Some people gave the book low ratings because it was about fear rather than about insects--they apparently didn't read the subtitle.