A Cabinet of Curiosities for the Eclectic Reader

I’ve always loved the idea of curiosity cabinets – spaces that opened to an eclectic collection which held meaning (usually) only to the one who had assembled it. 

This post is a sort of literary curiosity cabinet. If a cabinet could be assembled to represent them, you would find the following inside:  a green flag emblazoned with a white horn and hoof, a sample of cloth so white and sparkling it was nicknamed “unicorn vomit,” a Native American headdress, the crumbling top of a termite mound from South Africa, a nail from the true Cross, a pile of court papers, instructions on the proper way to feed deer, and  the dried – but still strongly scented – needles of a Siberian pine. Curious yet?

I don’t know how I escaped from high school without reading Animal Farm. I remember my sister reading it for school, but somehow I never did. So I finally decided to buckle down and read it, only to decide that it probably isn’t a proper read for high schoolers (neither is Lord of the Flies, in my opinion) because without an understanding of the Russian Revolution (or, at least, communist ideology) I don’t think the message will be clear. And, of course, I lamented poor Boxer and all of those he stood for!

 

Tessa Dare remains my favorite romance author. In fact, she’s about the only one I read. Despite this, her most recent book doesn’t quite live up to its predecessors. Certainly, there were plenty of funny and cute parts (I especially loved the homage to Batman!), but the hero is a type she has used many times before and he started to feel like a trope rather than an individual. The secondary characters were interesting as always, though and I’m eager to see what becomes of them in the next title. I just hope the next hero will prove a bit more original. [The unicorn vomit mentioned above was a wedding dress that started the whole story rolling].

I’m really glad I found this book! It is written in a question format and while I didn’t find every question relevant or interesting, I learned a great deal about government dealings with Native Americans and I found a useful source to accompany the “first contact” literature I will be teaching in American Literature next fall.

It’s probably not often that one connects the idea of termites and great literature, but Marais is a splendid writer (with a sad history). He writes in the tradition of the great naturalists so that even those with only a little bit of knowledge about insects can follow the narrative. I suspect some of the information is now out of date, so I’ll be following up with Superorganism.

Humanizing may be the best word for this book. It makes Christ human and considers the too-human emotions of the mother who fears for her son, watches him die, and must endure life after his death.

I took up this title because the opioid epidemic is very real in Appalachia and this title has been held out as a way to understand the minds of those addicted. I don’t know if my understanding is deeper; the stories felt incredibly foreign and rambling and sad…

I admire both of these writers as individuals, but this work felt like a dumping ground for material that hadn’t made it into their other books. The essay that impacted me the most discussed the proper way of feeding deer. Their biology shifts in the winter so they can starve with full stomachs if the food they’re eating made for winter digestion.

I'm very grateful to the library at the Smithsonian for getting me this slender pamphlet. It mostly includes the type of information you would expect (territory, tracking methods, prey animals, etc.) but it's one of the few Russian studies printed in English, so it's a great piece for the chapter I'm editing!