It's easy to dismiss taxidermy as a kitschy or morbid sideline, the realm of trophy fish and jackalopes or an anachronistic throwback to the dusty diorama. Yet theirs is a world of intrepid hunter-explorers, eccentric naturalists, and gifted museum artisans, all devoted to the paradoxical pursuit of creating the illusion of life. Into this subculture of insanely passionate animal lovers ventures journalist Melissa Milgrom, whose journey stretches from the anachronistic family workshop of the last chief taxidermist for the American Museum of Natural History to the studio where an English sculptor, granddaughter of a surrealist artist, preserves the animals for Damien Hirst's most disturbing artworks. She wanders through Mr. Potter's Museum of Curiosities in the final days of its existence to watch dealers vie for preserved Victorian oddities, and visits the Smithsonian's offsite lab, where taxidermists transform zoo skins into vivacious beasts. She tags along with a Canadian bear trapper and former Roy Orbison impersonator--the three-time World Taxidermy Champion--as he resurrects an extinct Irish elk using DNA studies and Paleolithic cave art for reference; she even ultimately picks up a scalpel and stuffs her own squirrel. Transformed from a curious onlooker to an empathetic participant, Milgrom takes us deep into the world of taxidermy and reveals its uncanny appeal.
MELISSA MILGROM has written for The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and Travel & Leisure, among other publications; she has also produced segments for public radio. She has a masters degree in American studies from the University of Pennsylvania. Milgrom resides in Brooklyn, New York. "
"What you need for this kind of work is a strong stomach and lots of patience." 94-year-old Lillian Schwendeman, skinner and creator of artificial ears.
I'm pretty sure everything you will ever need to know about taxidermy (unless you decide to try it for yourself,) is contained in this book. From its beginnings to its staggering popularity during the Victorian Era to its use in contemporary art - it's all here.
Here are just a few fun and amazing things to be learned:
---The jackalope was invented by a Wyoming taxidermist in 1932.
---It takes a professional 28 hours to mount a squirrel.
---Erosion molding is an unbelievably grisly process involving coating the outside of an animal with silicone. The fur will stick to the rubber shell while everything else decomposes. Urp!
---Taxidermists are vulnerable to all sorts of diseases, including bubonic plague, Lyme disease, rabies, and cat scratch fever. (Take that, Motor City Madman!)
---If you attend the trade fair, you can purchase chicken feet injection fluid, artificial coyote throats, and tanned sable scrotums - a steal at only $7.50 each.
During the big finale, the author skins and stuffs a squirrel. She manages to not throw up. That's better than I would have done.
I would have preferred a few more photos, but other than that...a fascinating look at an unusual subject.
If you're interested, here are a few sites worth checking out...
Meet Walter Potter, one of England's most famous taxidermists. Scroll down to see the amazing detail in his Death and Burial of Cock Robin. And keep going to see the Two-headed kitten.http://www.taxidermy4cash.com/potter....
While this book definitely has its moments, it's more about telling tales from the world of taxidermy and the author's time spent in it than providing a broader view of the subject. The writing style frequently got in the way of the content thanks to jumpy chapters, sentences that were sometimes unclear, and awkward transitions between the author's experiences and her research.
My biggest issue with the book was that the author didn't seem to care much about her subject. She brushed right past a lot of really cool facts and history, but would then do something like devote an entire page to a spoilery plot description of Daphne du Maurier's Jamaica Inn when introducing an auction at the place that inspired the novel. She seemed more engaged during her brief encounter with artist Damien Hirst, and while discussing his work, than she did during any of her time with actual taxidermists, leaving me with the impression that she chose her subject more for quirk factor than actual interest.
I think I uncovered the reason for my issues with the focus of the book during the scene where Milgrom attends a conference of Britian's Guild of Taxidermists. She repeatedly bemoans the fact that the participants seem more interested in drinking and chatting than in teaching her about taxidermy. That's when it hit me. I wasn't connecting with Milgrom's style of nonfiction writing because she's the kind of writer who thinks that spending a few days getting sloshed with UK taxidermists is frivolous, while I'm the kind of reader who thinks that sounds like a really awesome weekend.
It was unbelievable to me that this book had no pictures. I kept putting it down to run to the computer to look up the things she described, so here are links to sites with photos of a few of the works mentioned: Walter Potter's Museum of Curiosities Ken Walker's Irish Elk
Not even her own attempt at taxidermy seemed to bridge the distance between the author and her work. After her entry was critiqued at the World Championships, Milgrom says, "my squirrel missed the mark because I didn't love it enough." It's kind of why I felt her book missed the mark, too.
I hesitated to begin this book because I bought it quite a while ago before I reached the point where I simply cannot read anything involving the deaths of animals. Thankfully, aside from the author’s frequent laments about over-hunting and the rapid rates of extinction, there are no graphic depictions of animal cruelty.
I was disappointed with the author’s choppy writing style and felt that the book was moderately disorganized. However, I was fascinated by the chapter (#6) about the Potter Museum of Curiosities. For the first time I also learned about the controversy Darwin ignited when his theory of evolution introduced the idea of extinction and many people refused to believe him!
Overall, the author successfully presented taxidermy as a valid art form and presented its history in an accessible way. I still prefer my animals alive, though, and don’t need to read more about taxidermy.
Extraordinarily well-researched, wonderfully paced and tenderly written, this almost novelistic journey into the world, history, art, and science of taxidermy is an excellent deep dive into this strange and arcane trade. Covering all corners of the modern practices and competitive spirit among present-day taxidermists, as well as the techniques and personalities of taxidermy's early years and heydays, anyone with an interest in natural history, museums, contemporary art, and scientific exploration will find something to hang (or mount) their hat on.
I wanted to like this book a lot more than I did. While there is some interesting information in this book, the writing style often made it jumbled. Instead of being one tale covering the history of taxidermy and renowned taxidermist past and present, Still Life was read more as a collection of essays that repeated the same story, taxidermists love nature and animals and hope to recreate life in their mounts. I didn't get the sense that Milgrom really had any interest in taxidermy or natural history and this book desperately needed some passion. This book could also have been improved with a few pictures to show the different styles, techniques, and pieces she was describing in each chapter. In the end I found this book more anecdotal then informative which was a disappointment to me.
I didn't anticipate this book to be so beautiful, and rather expected it to be about the shock value of taxidermy or its gruesome history. Instead, the author takes us into the workshops of some renowned taxidermists whose quiet reverence of animals runs deep, and who treat their work as a high art form (fine sculpture) and a love letter to the animals they seek to bring back to "life."
As the author seeks to impart to her readers, good taxidermy is like good karaoke: a desire to mimic something you deeply love and that moves you, down to the finest details. This was such a great metaphor! As someone who also loves animals in a way that borders on obsession, it was easy for me to understand the passion of taxidermists and their fear of being misunderstood as they try to recreate the life in animals that they love so much. While some were hunters, most never killed their specimens themselves and did not at all enjoy their death, and all had to follow very strict regulations regarding wildlife. If you are not an animal lover, you would still think the people involved in this niche profession are interesting, and the author tells a lot about the history of taxidermy as well, with respect and without over-hyping the creep factor.
One thing I really loved was also the differences in the taxidermy culture between the United States, Canada, the UK, and mainland Europe. The author travels all over these areas and works with taxidermists of all kinds- from trophy hunters to contemporary artists, from old timers to amateur newbies, each had such an interesting perspective on the industry and their individual techniques. It was truly a fascinating read!
And yes, in the end of the book the author (with professional help and a lot of squeamishness) stuffs her own squirrel and walks the reader through the process. While I am not sure I would ever have the stomach to do that myself, I can certainly see now why people are passionate about taxidermy and have a newfound appreciation for this art form.
A tour of the hidden subculture of taxidermy — with recipes
By Ethan Gilsdorf | Boston Globe, March 14, 2010
When the Parisian taxidermy shop Deyrolle went up in flames two years ago 90 percent of the inventory was lost to the fire and smoke — thousands of specimens, from fossils to beetles, rabbits to polar bears, some reaching back to the store’s 1831 origins.
The loss touched not only natural history buffs, but casual window shoppers like myself. When I lived in Paris, I’d bring visitors to see Deyrolle’s majestic zebras captured midprance and the fierce tigers with jaws agape, winding up for a serious snarl. But I also found my curiosity colored by horror, pity, and disgust. As an animal lover, taxidermy unsettled me. I wanted to look away. Yet, I could not, and eventually, staring into the glassy black eyes of a lion, I was able to see beauty in death.
That’s one of the paradoxes explored by Melissa Milgrom in her debut book, “Still Life: Adventures in Taxidermy.’’ Milgrom, who has written for The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal, takes us on an absorbing tour through this “incomparable tool for displaying the wonder and beauty of animals.’’ Part craft and art, both hobby and business, and mixed with science and theater, taxidermy begins with a corpse, then tears it apart to infuse the body again with the illusion of spirit. One competition judge describes it as an attempt “to duplicate what God made.’’
Like many forays into little-known subcultures, Milgrom’s survey is chock-full of colorful characters. But these are no kooky amateur trophy mounters; they’re top practitioners — true taxidermy geeks. We begin with a prolonged visit to a third-generation New Jersey taxidermy shop called Schwendeman’s, run by a father and son. We meet competitors at the annual World Taxidermy Championships wheeling mounted leopards through hotel lobbies and preening their entries’ fur like nervous competitors at the Westminster Kennel Club dog show.
Our skilled reporter later attends the auction of a collection of Victorian anthropomorphic “curiosities’’ — ridiculous yet painstakingly crafted dioramas of 20 kittens in wedding dresses, or 98 birds reenacting the nursery rhyme “The Death and Burial of Cock Robin.’’ She lurks to capture conversations (often off-color) and scatters in snippets of taxidermy history. While we probably spend too long, almost three chapters, with British “anti-taxidermist’’ Emily Mayer, who fabricates cow heads and sharks for artist Damien Hirst’s installations, the book’s heart lies with Ken Walker, a two-time WTC champion. The swaggering but affable Walker excels in the “Re-Creations’’ category. He crafts a giant panda from dyed bear skins; his huge prehistoric deer is cobbled together from elk hides. In a funny life imitates art twist, he’s also a skilled karaoke singer, with a dead-on Roy Orbison impersonation.
While Milgrom takes a back seat to the taxidermists, she does pop up from time to time to offer commentary. For example, at the auction she remarks how depressed she feels, realizing a beloved British collection would be broken up. After backstage tours of Smithsonian attics and trade show floors, she remarks, “How tired my eyes were from all that I had seen.’’ So, too, are the reader’s after her exhaustive litanies of muskrats, coyotes, mallards, and perch. Too much detail can be a liability.
Because the author insists on inserting her “I’’ into this sort of investigation, we naturally expect to learn more about her own interest in taxidermy — what she has at stake. The book need not be a quest for personal meaning, but Milgrom’s own investment needs more backbone than the first chapter’s meager admission that, on a safari to Tanzania, upon seeing a hunting party’s booty of carcasses, she wanted to know “what compels people to want to transform animals into mantelpiece trophies.’’ Otherwise, sans soul-searching, perhaps it’s better the author keep her distance.
Another misstep: The somewhat perplexing first chapter muddles topics — her admiring visit to Schwendeman’s with her African trip and what feels more like concluding not introductory remarks. Section breaks and some reorganization early on might have provided a firmer foundation for the book. A further quibble: Photos would have helped to illustrate the mounts she discusses.
But false moves aside, Milgrom artfully uncovers a hidden world. We learn recipes for pickling skins, how to mold fake tongues and lips, and smell the stench of rotting flesh. We grasp how the 19th century’s insatiable lust for specimens led to the slaughter of thousands of beasts. And we understand taxidermy’s new ironic role in preserving species that man keeps driving to extinction.
Like other misunderstood subcultures, taxidermy deserves our respect. “Still Life’’ elevates it from kitsch and merely weird and morbid. The book ends, fittingly, with the author stuffing her own squirrel. She wins no prizes, but comes to understand first-hand the art’s absurd devotion, as well as the hard truth that “no matter how hard a taxidermist tries, he or she can never bring the animal back to life.’’
Ethan Gilsdorf, author of “Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks: An Epic Quest for Reality Among Role Players, Online Gamers, and Other Dwellers of Imaginary Realms,’’ can be reached at ethan@ethangilsdorf.com.
I bought this book in a gift shop at the Smithsonian Institution National Museum of Natural History, which I did not think was that far a stretch at the time, but looking back, this was an interesting decision on the part of the Smithsonian. Chapter 4 of this book covers in detail the ways in which the Smithsonian, in revamping their displays in the early 2000’s, systematically and needlessly destroyed irreplaceable artifacts of great historical, artistic, and biological value in the name of “cost efficiency,” even though there were other options available. For instance: one of three blue whale mounts in the world – hacked apart and stuffed into a dumpster to save money. Now there are only two - in New York and Tokyo. Dioramas that painstakingly recreated environmental biomes which are now no longer found in the wild were dismantled, hacked apart, and burned. Offers from other museums that would preserve and maintain historical displays were rejected. Ugh. This chapter made me almost literally sick, and simultaneously furious. And I can’t believe the Smithsonian decided to sell this book. In hindsight, this may have been a small act of rebellion on the part of some individuals, and the big bosses in charge of buying stuff to sell in gift shops obviously have never read it.
I am now very curious to go back to the museum and look at some of the displays described in this book in detail. So there’s that.
It helped to have previously read Dragon Hunter: Roy Chapman Andrews & the Central Asiatic Expeditions by Charles Gallenkamp, about Roy Chapman Andrews (Yvette Borup Andrews, his first wife, was amazing), and to be passingly familiar with Carl Akeley. This book mainly concentrated on museum taxidermists, artists, etc instead of the people who mount hunting trophies, commercial taxidermists.
Emily Mayer sounds AWESOME. I love her art, and her attitude, and her personality. If the goal of taxidermy is to cross the uncanny valley and create animals that are as close to life as possible, she is the person included in this book who I feel is closest to that goal. I mean, I have had rodents as pets for years and years and years, and I am very familiar with what they look like - and even after looking at this mouse for a long time, knowing it is a mount, I cannot really pinpoint whether it is alive or not. And this dog? I wouldn’t necessarily be able to tell with a deer or a lion or a bird, but to succeed in the challenge of taking on an animal like a mouse or a dog, where people live with them and are intimately familiar with every detail of how they look - that’s amazing.
I think one of my favorite things about this book is the way the author immerses herself in the subject matter - she doesn’t just interview these guys by phone, she went and stayed in their houses (Ken Walker, Emily Mayer) and really got an in depth picture of who these people are personally, and the reality of the taxidermy field today. Her personal journey as detached sort of scientific observer to someone who then stuffs her own squirrel was almost as interesting as the people she interviews.
I really feel, as someone who knew practically nothing about taxidermy prior to reading this, that the author captured the spirit and essence of the field, the history and artistry of taxidermy as well as the occasional kitschyness of it all. There is a section towards the end of the book where she is describing the critique she is receiving from Jack Fishwick at the World Taxidermy Championship for her squirrel (Gray Squirrel, Yellow Dawn): “ I think it’s very good for a first attempt...but you have been hanging around taxidermists for the past two years - perhaps the best taxidermists in the world. You have an advantage! You are not starting at rock bottom. You have tons and tons of info you could have studied.” Personally I feel that his critique was a little off the mark - the author did succeed - what she was preserving was not a squirrel, but the field of taxidermy, through this book.
For a peek into the world of taxidermy and the history of natural history museum exhibits, this isn't a bad place to start.
However, I'm losing patience with books where the writer is so busy inserting herself into the story that she becomes the focus instead of her subject. Milgrom's constantly creeped-out reaction was distracting to say the least. It's as if she wasn't quite comfortable with the fact that she was publishing a book on taxidermy and wants to make sure the readers know that she isn't _really_ so weird as to think it's totally cool. Her entire account of the British taxidermy show consisted mainly of her frustration over it not being what she expected, rather than a true account of what it was. I am especially disgusted with her dedicating the entire last 2 chapters to her personal attempt at mounting a squirrel (with all the freaked-out sqeamishness she can muster) and entering it in competition. I also found myself questioning her reliability as a narrator with a number of jarring animal descriptions -- such as noting the "golden fur" of a snow leopard, or relating that someone went around with "pockets full of muskrats" (I'd like to see you stuff a single muskrat into a single pocket).
In spite of all this, there is some good history mixed in and this serves as a decent jumping off point for learning about some of the great hunter/naturalists of the 19th and early 20th century. It provides a very cool window into how natural history museums (and the public perception thereof) have changed drastically over time. I found myself Googling many of the pieces Milgrom mentions.
Enjoyable book about an often misunderstood craft which sometimes aspires to art. I'm of two natures when it comes to taxidermy. I hate seeing trophies on walls and the recent 'renaissance' of taxidermy a a decorating trope left me cold and sad. But I also love natural history museums and the amazing examples of taxidermy that can be found at good ones. This book made me realize the tremendous amount of work and knowledge that goes into making an exemplary piece of taxidermy.
The chapter on Emily Mayer, one of Damien Hirst's fabricators, was particularly interesting, allowing us inside the inner sanctum of her studio. Fascinating stuff :)
This entire book was right up my alley. Taxidermy is not creepy anymore. It's an art form. I just wish I could get over the ick factor to try it myself.
The adventures in taxidermy here are really Melissa Milgrom's travels, her journeying to hang out with a wide variety of taxidermists, characters all and each with their own perspective on the... craft?... art?... depends on who she's talking with.
Milgrom gives us a good background and history of taxidermy, focusing mainly on naturalists and the taxidermy used in museum displays and dioramas, but she also takes a look at how concepts of taxidermy have been applied to more contemporary art pieces. Even though many of the specimens from the 19th and early 20th century were actually hunted for use in museums, Milgrom does mostly steer clear of discussing anything more current that involves hunting, such as deer or moose head trophies you'd see in a lodge. Yes, that is part of the story of taxidermy, but Milgrom is not writing an academic book here, so the omission is not a sin. She has more interesting angles to talk about anyway. She delves into the the world of contemporary art and the taxidermy-based concepts being used there. Equally fascinating is the concept of "re-creations", pieces that are reproductions of extinct or endangered/threatened species (such as the Irish elk or giant panda), using nothing from those species at all.
Growing up as a taxidermist’s daughter, this book hit a nostalgic note for me. I found the history and current climate of taxidermy in the western world fascinating, and I now have plenty of fodder for a few conversations with my dad... heck, maybe I’ll see if he’s still got those muskrats that we started as a father-daughter project years ago (but never finished)!
Something refreshing about this book was the author’s interactions with more conservative taxidermists, curators, naturalists, etc. As someone who leans towards the liberal-snowflake side of things, and in a country so polarized at this point in time, the book reminded me of all that I share and have in common with people from the opposite end of the political spectrum. Perhaps not what I was expecting in a book about taxidermy, but I noticed and enjoyed the differing perspective.
If you like looking at taxidermy in museums, you will love this book. If you are into sort of offbeat practices and subcultures, you will love this book. And, perhaps most surprisingly, if you are a lover of animals and nature, you will love this book. In short, this is a book that anyone with a passing interest in taxidermy should read. But such readers are hardly the only audience for Milgrom's entertaining, educational, and thoroughly readable account of her own fascination with taxidermy, which logically culminates in her account of her own attempt to taxidermy a squirrel. Where she goes and who she meets before that, though, is what drives the unexpectedly brisk narrative up until then.
I remember, eons ago (okay, like eight years ago) picking this out from the stacks of my high school library. I was fascinated by it, because I considered myself a bit of a strange kid, and what's stranger than taking your housecat and stuffing it to become a permanent living room fixture? Alas, there are no housecats being stuffed in this book, but it is delightfully strange and full of enough fun, morbid, natural history facts to make up for it! There's also some thought-provoking, albeit brief, musings on whether or not taxidermy is art, as well as interesting peeks into the very different taxidermy subcultures of American and Britain. I'd forgotten most of the details of this book, but I did vividly remember the chapter where Milgrom herself stuffs a squirrel, and I can't lie, I'm wondering if I have the stomach (and the spare money) for perhaps stuffing a squirrel of my own!
I thought I wanted to learn taxidermy when I was a boy, and I stumbled across this book while cruising Amazon for modern how-tos. This book is not a how-to. Its one of those rare books that seem to come out of nowhere and light up the time it takes to read it. Milgrom travels a lot to gather material and I was happy to tag along. I wouldn't have thought that the history of taxidermy would be interesting, but it is. I wouldn't have thought that museums would have collected thousands of animals looking for the most representative example of a species, but they did.
Taxidermists are as dedicated and obsessive about their work as any other artists. In America, we still have lots of huntable animals, the freedom to own guns, and hunters who wish the memory of their hunts to be preserved with mounted animals. In Europe, taxidermists mostly depend on road kill and the natural deaths of owned animals for work. Milgrom became interested enough in the work of her new friends to mount a squirrel of her own and enter a big-time competition to get a feel for the experiences of her new contacts. (No, she didn't win anything, nor expect to.)
Read the other reviews for more specific book descriptions. Anti-hunters and vegans should probably avoid it. I enjoyed every word. Its a gem.
My interest level fluctuated with the various chapters (which felt as if they could largely be read independent of each other); I tore through a chapter on Emily Mayer, who prepares the animals for Damien Hirst's work, but struggled to finish one in which Milgrom herself took center stage. It was largely enjoyable as I read it, if not completely captivating, but my memory is already shedding the details. I don't regret the time spent reading Still Life. But unlike other works by other science writers (okay, fine, Mary Roach's books), I don't anticipate a reread.
This was a fun read and wasn't too stomach churning. I read this book as I ate my lunch every day and there was only one chapter that I had to read when I wasn't eating. :) Most of this book is of the history of taxidermy, the current state of taxidermy and some of the characters over the years who found success, pioneering new methods and achieving the best mounts. There are some great insights into taxidermy as an art, or a craft, or other. I have no interest in doing my own taxidermy but have an appreciation for Victorian taxidermy. I learned a lot and enjoyed it.
The author's assumption that her feelings toward the field of taxidermy are held by the majority ruined this book for me. Am I one of the few who finds taxidermy a fascinating art form? By constantly stating generalizations such as "No wonder most people find taxidermy creepy" she lumped all readers into one group: nervous, close-minded and queasy. Incredibly disappointing and disrespectful to the subject matter.
I really wanted to love this book, but just couldn’t quite get there. The content was fascinating, but I found myself having to take breaks from reading, as it just wasn’t holding my interest. I think the main problem was that the author seemed so separate from and dispassionate towards the content she was writing about, and she never really managed to bridge that gap. I wanted, and think the story needed, more interest and passion from the author in order to be more engaging.
So educational and engaging. I could have torn through this book in a day, except the author references so many pieces and animals I wanted to see, that I constantly had my iPad next to me, switching back and forth to look things up! (If you read this book, I highly recommend this technique, because it really brings her story to life to see all the pieces, and the work of these taxidermists for yourself).
I suppose it could be an okay book. I just didn't find it interesting. Think of a book like "SALT". Except for taxidermy. It had too many anecdotes and uninspiring stories for me. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood. I did have plenty of other books I had borrowed from the library so maybe it just couldn't compete with the others. I might have read a 1/4 - 1/3rd of this book while skipping around. I'm returning to the library. Unfinished.
Sort of like an awkward wedding toast: all g-rated positivity and warmth, and only the slightest sense that the details worth knowing are getting glossed over. Not terrible, sometimes amusing, but mostly, just watered down.
Also: the author describes almost everyone as if they are the clothes they wear.
I have a lot of thoughts about this book. Mostly, that is was a bit disorganized and that at times the author got in the way of her subject. However there were a lot of gems and I feel a much deeper appreciation for the mounts and dioramas at the Smithsonian American Natural History Museum. A lot of what I learned from this book will stay with me, so it’s a success from my point of view.
This book wasn't bad, but it was way too long. It seems to be for a general audience, for people who just like reading weird things about odd topics, like myself. And yet it just became so drawlingly detailed. I ended up skimming several of the chapters. If you're interested in the topic already, you'll probably have an easier time of it!
Laura brought this book home after one of her internships in 2023. She thought I might like it. I found it fascinating and I enjoyed it. Even better I learned a few things. Lots of history on the subject was incorporated into the book. I liked the book and was unable to find other books by this author.
I really enjoyed this book. An immensely readable book on a subject matter I knew very little about. The development of the characters was incredibly vivid. I felt like I got I rather nice insight into this strange and unusual world of taxidermy and taxidermists.
Awesome! Really wasn't sure what I was getting into but this book was a page turner. Learned a lot about the advent of natural history museums, Damien Hirst, and the subculture. The author even tries her hand at taxidermy.