As a person often accused of navel gazing, I found some validation in Michael Sims’s “Adam’s Navel: A Natural and Cultural History of the Human Form.” Finally, I learned that contemplation of one’s navel has rich cultural, scientific, and theological antecedents. Freud saw it as a symbol of the unknown. Whether or not Adam possessed one occupied the minds of many of the early Church’s greatest thinkers. Its exposure on the body of Barbara Eden in “I Dream of Jeannie” is seen as a landmark in television history. Such matters are worthy of the musings of me and my fellow Omphalopsychites; i.e., navel gazers.
“Adam’s Navel” is a truly trivial book, in the best sense of the word. I have always believed that 90% of what we think of as knowledge is just so much trivia – facts and anecdotes that we can use to amuse, entertain, and impress an audience… and ourselves. Good trivia gives you something to think about. Appropriately, perhaps, Sims conceived of writing this novel while lying flat on his back for an extended period of time, after a serious injury. Under those circumstances, it is understandable that he might ponder the oddities and frailties of the human body. It might provide some light distraction to learn that in Egyptian mythology the left ear represents death, that the buxom American Barbie doll is modeled after a German sex toy, or that there was a common medieval belief that babies who refused to suckle on the mother’s left breast were destined for sainthood.
Chapters cover the expanse of the human body, from the hair to the toenails. Sims explores the parts of our bodies with a sense of irony – how common they are, yet how function, how specialized, and also how strange. He is also not above the art of a wretched pun, such as where he refers to the Holy Ghost impregnating Mary by entering her ear as an act of “aural” sex. Groan, rimshot.
At some restaurants, Trivial Pursuit cards are left on the tables to occupy guests while waiting for their food. Read “Adam’s Navel” in the same way. It will pass time in a pleasant, engaging way. But you never know what you might actually learn, too.