Animals Strike Curious Poses

by Elena Passarello

“It might be the best book on animals I’ve ever read. It's also the only one that's made me laugh out loud.” —Helen Macdonald, The New York Times Book Review
 
Beginning with Yuka, a 39,000-year-old mummified woolly mammoth recently found in the Siberian permafrost, each of the sixteen essays in Animals Strike Curious Poses investigates a different famous animal named and immortalized by humans. Modeled loosely after a medieval bestiary, these witty, playful, whip-smart essays, from a winner of a Whiting Award for nonfiction, traverse history, myth, science, and more, bringing each beast vibrantly to life.
 
“Stunning . . . Passarello’s keen wit is on display throughout as she raises questions about the uniqueness of humans. . . . A feast of surprising juxtapositions and gorgeous prose.” — Publishers Weekly (starred review)
 
“I’ve spent decades reading books on the roles animals play in human cultures, but none have ever made me think, and feel, as much as this one. It’s a devastating meditation on our relationship to the natural world.” —Helen Macdonald, The New York Times Book Review

Genres: Nonfiction, Essays, Animals, Nature, History, Science, Short Stories

219 pages, Kindle Edition

First published February 28, 2017

About the author

Elena Passarello is the author of Let Me Clear My Throat (Sarabande 2012), a collection of essays on some unforgettable moments in the history of the human voice. Her writing on music, performance, pop culture, and the natural world has appeared in Slate, Creative Nonfiction, the Normal School, Oxford American, Iowa Review, and the 2012 music writing anthology Pop When the World Falls Apart (Duke University Press 2012).

For a decade, Elena worked as an actor and voice-over performer throughout the East Coast and in the Midwest. She originated roles in the world premieres of Christopher Durang’s Mrs. Bob Cratchit’s Wild Christmas Binge and David Turkel’s Wild Signs and Holler. To date, she has performed seven of Shakespeare’s comedies, zero Shakespeare tragedies, and one musical version of James Joyce’s “The Dead.” She’s played a tree twice, a dead cow once, and a man at least eleven times.

A graduate of the writing programs at the University of Pittsburgh (BA) and University of Iowa (MFA), Elena was born in Charleston, South Carolina, and grew up in a town in Georgia called Snellville (official motto: “Where Everybody’s Somebody”). She now lives in Corvallis, Oregon, where she is an Assistant Professor at Oregon State University.

Reviews

[karen · Rating 4 out of 5]

fulfilling book riot's 2018 read harder challenge task #22: an essay anthology AND #6: A book about nature

half-extry points given to me, by me, for choosing a book that i have owned for nearly a year.

review to come! full review to come - for now i am just dropping some pictures and the basic outline to prep.

Yuka (Mammuthus primigenius)
39,000 BP



The Wolf of Gubbio (Canis lupus)
1207



Ganda (Rhinoceros unicornis)
1515


clara





Sackerson (Ursus arctos)
1601



Jeoffry (Felis catus)
1760

https://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/...







Vogel Staar (Sturnus vulgaris)
1784



Harriet (Geochelone nigra porteri)
1835







War Pigs (Columba livia domestica)
1870 1918 1954 2012







cher ami













Jumbo (Elephas maximus)
1901



Four Horsemen (Equus ferus caballus)
1904 1961 1995 2012













Mike (Gallus gallus)
1945







Arabella (Araneus diadematus)
1973





Lancelot (Capra aegagrus hircus)
1985













Morning Glory Zell-Ravenheart, with Lancelot and Gallahad.

Koko (Gorilla gorilla gorilla)
1988



Osama (Crocodylus niloticus)
1998



Celia (Capra pyrenaica pyrenaica)
2003





Cecil (Panthera leo bleyenberghi)
2015

[Book Riot Community]

I will admit I immediately wanted to read this because of the Prince lyric title. (And I am also a fan of her last book of essays.) This is a collection of sixteen essays, each pertaining to a famous member of the animal kingdom, and examined with Passarello’s brilliant and fun insight. As a writer, she is an unusual treasure, and this book is a lot of fun.

Backlist bump: Let Me Clear My Throat: Essays by Elena Passarello


Tune in to our weekly podcast dedicated to all things new books, All The Books: http://bookriot.com/listen/shows/allt...

[Pam]

DNF

Did not hold my attention.

[Amy · Rating 1 out of 5]

Here is a partial list of things that would be more worth your time to read than this overwritten compilation of self-regarding nonsense:

1. The toxic shock information included in every box of tampons. Sure, it'll get repetitive after a while, but at least you'll know something new at the end of it.

2. The lyrics of that Insane Clown Posse song where they talk about how a long-necked giraffe is a fucking miracle. They're problematic in a lot of ways as a group, but they're not wrong about giraffes.

3. The country music song I wrote in 1984 at a sleepover with my best friend Nancy Waxman. It was truly terrible, but at least it was long enough ago that we can all laugh about it now.

4. That one Sweet Valley High book where the overweight girl pledged the sorority they for some reason had in high school, and they were really mean to her and made her do all these exercises as part of the pledging process but then blackballed her anyway, but then she kept up with the exercises and lost a whole bunch of weight and was elected homecoming queen because you don't need to be thin to be happy and popular, but, like, are you sure you tried hard enough? I mean, that's just a timeless message always worth revisiting, but also Bruce Patman gets denied at the end which is pretty funny because he sucks, and also it's comforting to know that terrible people will sometimes get what's coming to them.

6. Goofus and Gallant slash fiction, in case you've momentarily forgotten that people really are the worst and will ruin absolutely anything just because they can. It'll be upsetting, but at least it will be short.

[Circe · Rating 1 out of 5]

I'm giving up on this. I thought it would be a light, fun, end-of-the-year holidays read but it's too dense (which seems weird to say about short stories about animals). The stories all start off with no context whatsoever and they're all so esoteric and artfully written that you never actually LEARN about the animal. I don't really care enough to consult Google to find out what the author is trying to tell me. I'm disappointed because I like the idea of this book but it's just too inaccessible.

[Pam · Rating 1 out of 5]

Horrible. Whay kind of person feels the need to share some of the most atrocious ways that people treated animals? Spare me the “we need to learn from our mistakes” nonsense. The last “chapter” about Cecil the lion was pure liberal bias. It has all of the elements to make people scream, kick, protest, and yes, talk about the book: a big bad scary gun, a beautiful creature who has a name, and a white guy. Really? Not a word of background, just bad people being bad and gee, human beings suck. Ridiculously transparent in its objective, playing on the reader’s last nerve, and completely lacking in any sort of talent. This book has no message, just shock value. This is not brave, bravery is trying to do better in the future theough your words and deeds. Any moron can dig up the worst of the past. If you want to share awareness of the bonds of humans and animals, focus on the positive. If you love animals, skip it. If you already own it, burn it. There are far far FAR better ways to spend your time... like watching grass grow. Zero stars.

[Joshua Buhs · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dig, if you will, this picture . . .

It's a thousand words, right? And every essay by Passarello is a couple thousand--but feel like so much more. They are dense without feeling dense, and their gravity is increased by being in what is a relatively slim volume, themes echoing and building, her thesis not fully revealing itself until the end.

What she's after, it seems to me, is what animals mean to a consciousness--whip-smart, observant--that came of age at the end of the twentieth century, when the wild had been reduced, mostly, to a few preserves, the rest heading to extinction at a massive pace, when the most exorbitant example of the wild exists in our cultural imaginings.

The book is a series of meditations on the theme, arranged chronologically, starting with the discovery of a mammoth that lived 39,000 years ago, and ending with a brief coda on Cecil the Lion. Across all of these, Passarello grapples with the distinction between animals as live, unpredictable things, and as representations, and where those different ways of being cross. The story of the mammoth ends with some of the earliest representations, paintings on caves; the story of Cecil is about how if the hunter knew there had been cultural importance to the lion, he'd have never killed it.

In between, she documents other contentious meetings, untangling the dense knot of representation and reality, from predatory wolves to elephants and the carceral state, from faked unicorns to pigeons in the service of war. These are experimental essays--she name checks John D'Agata in the acknowledgments, suggesting a concern for essay as lyric--and I don't always think they work: sometimes the language is too obscure; sometimes the lyricism seems to undermine the concern for simple fact; sometimes the attempt just falls flat--as when she imagines the history of Galapagos tortoise interactions with humans as failed love affairs.

But they are all worth trying, and worth reading to see a fiercely intelligent mind at play and working hard.

The essay on Mozart and the starling is worth the price of the book, full stop, but she adds to these others that, if not quite as cohesive, are amazingly thoughtful. I am tempted to say that she is not always serious, but that's not true--she is very serious. But she also has a sense of humor that runs toward the pornographic and scatological, which shows up here and there, most forcefully, obviously, in her chapter on Koko the Gorilla.

The title comes from the Prince song "When Doves Cry" (which also provides the first line of this review), thoguh she never makes the point. The whole song is suggestive to Passarello--doves as creatures, doves as symbols--but she pushes Prince's lyric in a slightly different direction. While the "curious" in the song modifies animal--they pose in their curiosity--here is modifies the poses: the contortions we have increasingly forced animals to take, as our representations become ever greater, and the wonder if they can push back against us or, as in the song--

"They feel the heat
The heat between me and you"--

become passive observers of our activities, looking at us, but never being seen themselves, not anymore.

[Mark Hennion · Rating 3 out of 5]

Passarello's newest offering is absolutely worthy of the praise being lavished on it. On one hand, this fascinating book offers its readers the advertised "modern bestiary," replete with historical examples and enriching narratives that ably tell the story of humanity's troubled relationship with other life forms. On the other hand, the narrative requires keen attention and I suspect would struggle to attract a general readership.

Passarello varies her techniques as much as she does her subject. Though all entries in this tome concern themselves with specific animals, each is rendered in a different way. Historical narratives, first-person accounts, poems rendered via language known to Koko the gorilla, and a bevy of other stories all diversely yet aptly capture a SPECIFIC facet of a specific animal.

Underlying theme? Pick and choose. Animals and humans share a troubled relationship? Animals are superior to humanity because their motivations are not (definitively) evidenced by higher conscious or evidence of culture? Any and all of these might apply.

At times, many of the essays (especially the lyrical essays/poetry) failed to keep me driving forward through the narratives and I found myself skipping entire chapters. As an entry point, "Vogel Staar," and "Arabella" offer two fascinating accounts that might capture a general readership.

[Maisy · Rating 4 out of 5]

I struggled with the beginning of this book — while the writing was beautiful, the stories were often so abstract that I felt I needed to have read the histories of each animal before reading Passarello’s unique delivery of the their stories... a lot of the details were lost on me. I felt that rather than factual accounts of animals in history (as I was expecting), I was getting an anthropocentric narrative that focused more on the humans of the time than the animals. But by the end, Passarello totally enraptured me. Loved the last 5 or 6 stories especially, and her reflection on how humans perceive animals existing in “our” world.

[Katherine · Rating 3 out of 5]

*3.5 stars. An interesting and creative book. I very much enjoyed the Mozart/starling section and the description of the horse’s mouth. Many beautiful and lyrical passages, but here’s one that gave me pause and made me laugh:
“I was just one of the thousands of Americans born in 1978 that watched a surgically altered goat ride a golden chariot around their local civic center” (184).

[K · Rating 5 out of 5]

i was not prepared for how engrossed i would be by this mindblowing collection of essays. the loose theme is about individual animals in history that have led extraordinary lives—we follow mozart’s starling that critiqued his compositions, darwin’s pet turtle, and the spider that nasa shot into orbit—but the really intriguing stuff came from the parallelisms, where Passarello takes two distant topics and hooks them together with a healthy combination of lyrical talent and the oddities of the natural world: the chronology on the discovery of electricity and its use in capital punishment paired with the rise of elephants as circus attractions? the use of an australian classroom workbook on crocodile attacks as a scaffolding to speak about fear and extremism? you can’t tell me that’s not the coolest thing ever!

just like Schlanger and her crazy plant facts, Passarello has invoked a sense of childhood wonder with these animals. her writing style is just so pretty—if i had to describe it, i would say it is a bit like a poet with mild synesthesia, precise and fluid and engulfing—and the little memoir on her life and perspective on the natural world really drove it home. sure it was a little flowery and experimental at times but i think that just adds to the mystery. i feel like if i ever turned to creative nonfiction i’d reference these essays for inspiration. absolutely phenomenal.

like any collection it will have its misses (i.e. that wolf prophecy thing and that obscenity of a cat poem) but this is the easiest round up of my life. 4.5/5 no crumbs

[Julie · Rating 5 out of 5]

An absolute treasure of a book. Passarello’s prose is like no one else’s, a fully formed unique voice that has mastered the essay form. These essays range from very sparse ruminations that spur the reader to look up more information (see “Mike the headless rooster” in my Google history) to much deeper dives into the myriad of ways that humans have used animals to project our own fears, desires, hopes, and insecurities. I learned a good deal about animals from this book, but I learned a whole lot more about humans. Buckets of gold stars!

[Abigail Franklin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not quite my taste, but brilliant

[Sasha]

breathlessly reviewed by author of H is for Hawk: https://mobile.nytimes.com/2017/03/13...

[Alex Sarll]

"It might be the best book on animals I have ever read", says Helen Macdonald on the cover, which is weird when even if I limit the pool to books written by people named on the front cover of this, I've read three better books on animals by Helen Macdonald. It was between her enthusiasm and a title taken from Prince's best album that I gave this one a go, and I wouldn't say I regret that, but nor do I expect it especially to stay with me. Passarello's essays discuss animals not by species, but with reference to particular examples; this might be an individual (Darwin's tortoise) or an echelon ('War Pigs' is the appealing if slightly cheesy pun at the head of a flit through pigeons' various roles in war over the centuries). The styles vary from brief history and memoir through essay and short story to extended joke, and they're all fine, but for me they seldom have that sudden moment of insight or connection, or fabulous turn of phrase, which makes an essay stand out – although I suspect the case of poor Lancelot the 'unicorn', used as an illustration of humanity's shifted relationship to animals in a mediated age, is going to haunt me. And there is a wonderful quote from an obituary for the last heath hen: "There is no survivor, there is no future, there is no life to be recreated in this form again. We are looking upon the uttermost finality which can be written, glimpsing the darkness which will not know another ray of light." Written in the 1930s, but classic 2020s sentiments.

[Liberty {LittyLibby} · Rating 2 out of 5]

No joke, I bought this book for the title. Blatant Prince lyric, ya know?
But it turns out I was bored to tears by the essays within. I couldn't bring myself to completely finish it, there's only so much time on this planet.
Beautiful cover though, and it'll sell based on that fact and the title alone. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[Taylor Stewart]

I don’t know how to rate this book, but I am giving up on it. I wish I loved it! A collection of essays about animals ! Sign me up! However these don’t read like essays, they read like short stories and they’re so flowery that I haven’t really learned anything about any of the animals. Just disappointed, I feel like if I had gone in with a different expectation I would have enjoyed it more.

[Steve · Rating 4 out of 5]

Strong collection of creative nonfiction about famous & notable animals, arranged chronologically from Yuka the Woolly Mammoth to Cecil the Lion. You never know what you're going to get from section to section: while some of the pieces were factual and essay-like, others read a bit like fiction. "Jeoffrey" takes a strange old English poem about a Cat that survives only in fragment (Jubilate Agno, "For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry") and writes/fills in a missing section. "Harriet" tells the story of a tortoise Darwin collected from the Galapagos - and which lived until 2006! - from the POV of the tortoise. (It oddly reminded me in voice of David Mitchell's fiction.)

Often, Passarello defensibly leaves you to rely on a search engine (or your wits) for the facts and contexts, and this may frustrate some readers and limit the book's audience a bit. But given the ready resources of the internet, I wonder if this approach will become more common.

There is material here for readers seeking a more traditional approach: Vogel Staar is a wonderful piece about Mozart's starling (about which there's a whole new book, by Lyanda Lynn Haupt); Arabella relates the story of the spider who graced Skylab; Celia ponders the plight of modern day endlings (the last member of their species) and what can be done for them.

An intellectually and artistically adventurous collection for animal lovers.

[Amie Whittemore · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really wanted to *love* this book because it's been on my radar for years. And there were chapters I did LOVE and I really admired the formal variation across chapters as Passarello explores the truly terrible things we have put animals through for our own amusement. My favorite chapter was "Lancelot" because it was the most personal--we got a glimpse of Passarello as a person who engages with animals and the ideas of animals (which, yes, she's doing in the entire book but at a distance, as a researcher not firsthand). This was the chapter that unlocked the rest. Part of me wishes it was first.

That said, I think this book was just really hard for me to read, not a flaw in the writing itself--the violence toward animals, for sport and out of ignorance is just horrifying. I had to skim some chapters or leap over them almost entirely. I read a lot of books on animals, plants, the environment and they are all downers because dominant systems of oppression have really f'd up the whole thing in complex ways. There's only so many times I can read a book and weep and feel powerless and then scoop myself up and say ok, keep eating organic vegetables, compost, live lightly as if that would ever be enough. In other words, my heart low key hurts all the time in climate grief and there's only so many times I can go to a book and be ready to deepen that knife.

[Alex V. · Rating 5 out of 5]

I haven’t quite finished it but want to get it in before year’s end that ANIMALS STRIKE CURIOUS POSES is the best book I’ve read not only in 2017 and from 2017 but in a few years from any year. This unassuming book of essays about specific animals and their historic, mythic, symbolic relationships to certain humans is dazzling in its language and savage in its emotional range. The bit about Mozart and the starling will make you cry. Edison vs. Jumbo will make you punch somebody. The opening bit about a mammoth’s flowing locks will make you swoon. I don’t know why she wrote this book. Outside of a marketing gimmick title to get you in, it has nothing to do with Prince. But, like the spider in Skylab, it will captivate you with nothing by its lyric strands draped across your mind.

[Mike · Rating 5 out of 5]

I haven't read a collection of essays as brilliant and engaging as ruthlessly inventive as these since the last book by Eula Bliss. Passarello explores the relationship between humans and animals by individual takes on some of the great, known animals of history. While not a pure work of scholarly "natural history", Animals Strike Curious Poses provoked set-down-the-book moments of deep contemplation for me, and is filled with the surprises and realizations that brought about when reader is forced to look at himself in the mirror of his mind.

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

What an expected delight of my summer reading!

[staykind · Rating 4 out of 5]

a fantastically original book on endangered animals and the attitudes of humans who endanger them. highly recommend.

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

Did not expect to like this book this much. Essays, each linked to a single animal, with history and human quirks throughout. Many are sad, because we kill things a lot, but the writing is good, the stories are mostly charming, and I learned stuff.

[Jack · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some hits and misses, but the hits made up for the latter. I’m not sure if I would call this an essay collection. It’s partly that, but it’s a bit more loosey goosey in execution. There’s still a fair number of interesting threads presented in these pieces that invite the reader to tease out more info on their own.

[Lisa · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting topics and information, but I ended up liking it just all right.

[Tracey Sinclair · Rating 4 out of 5]

I totally bought this for the title, but it's a fascinating collection of essays. Not always an easy read - humanity's relationship to the animal kingdom is one often characterised by cruelty - and so best read in small doses, but definitely worth reading.

[Marianne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some of these essays were astonishingly good and a few of them frustrated me immensely. Overall the collection is lovely, elegant, witty, and deeply rooted in thoughtful attention.

[Ella Hachee · Rating 5 out of 5]

Obsessed.

[Robert Lambregts · Rating 1 out of 5]

I expected so much more from this book. It was completely different and basically is just a collection of lists. It's not fun to read, not written well and left me hating it more and more with every page. such a waste.