Moss has written a whole series of accessible bird species monographs suitable for nature buffs; this is the sixth. The choice of the term ‘biography’Moss has written a whole series of accessible bird species monographs suitable for nature buffs; this is the sixth. The choice of the term ‘biography’ indicates the meeting of a comprehensive aim and intimate detail. The book conveys much anatomical and historical information about the starling’s relatives, habits, and worldwide spread, yet is only 187 pages – and plenty of those feature relevant paintings and photographs, too. It’s well known that starlings were introduced to Anglophone countries as part of misguided “acclimatisation” projects that we would now dub cultural imperialism. In the USA and elsewhere, the bird is still considered common. But with the industrialisation of agriculture, starlings are actually having less breeding success and thus are in decline.
Overall, the style of the book is dry and slightly workmanlike. However, when he’s recounting murmurations he’s seen in Somerset or read about, Moss’s enthusiasm lifts it into something special. Autumn dusk is a great time to start watching out for starling gatherings. I love observing and listening to the starlings just in the treetops and aerials of my neighbourhood, but we do also have a small local murmuration that I try to catch at least a few times in the season. Here’s how he describes their magic: “At a time when, both as a society and as individuals, we are less and less in touch with the natural world, attending this fleeting but memorable event is a way we can reconnect, regain our primal sense of wonder – and still be home in time for tea.”
Lively spins a social history of upper-class England through a portrait of Golsoncott, a Somerset manor house that her grandmother and family owned foLively spins a social history of upper-class England through a portrait of Golsoncott, a Somerset manor house that her grandmother and family owned for much of the twentieth century. Her way in is through artefacts like paintings and samplers, but also outmoded objects that were once in regular use, such as grape scissors, a bon-bon dish and a gong stand. There are some notable side tracks, such as a reference to the Winchester embroiderers who are the subject of Tracy Chevalier's A Single Thread. The book proceeds roughly chronologically from her childhood (covering the sheltering of WWII evacuees) to her marriage, with subthemes of religion and gardening. One thing I've noted in Lively's nonfiction before is that it feels formulaic, like she made an outline and stuck slavishly to it; the scaffolding is meant to disappear during the writing. If you have a particular interest in a recreation of the time period, this is rather like factual background for the Cazalet Chronicles. I quickly decided to just skim it and leave in a Little Free Library so I don't have to carry it home on the train in my suitcase from a holiday in Berwick.
I liked this passage on gardening:
"A garden is perilously unstable. A few decades of neglect and it melts into the landscape, its existence to be read only by the perceptive. It becomes archaeology, with some tenacious growths hinting at what once was there. Gardeners know this; the fragility of the past is set against the robustness of digging and planting, the emphatic qualities of earth and roots and stems. To garden is to seize the day."
(3.5) X-ray technology has been with us since 1895, when it was developed by German physicist Wilhelm Roentgen. He received the first Nobel Prize in p(3.5) X-ray technology has been with us since 1895, when it was developed by German physicist Wilhelm Roentgen. He received the first Nobel Prize in physics but never made any money off of his discovery and died in penury of a cancer that likely resulted from his work. From the start, X-rays provoked concerns about voyeurism. People were right to be wary of X-rays in those early days, but radiation was more of a danger than the invasion of privacy. Lobdell, an English professor, tends to draw slightly simplistic metaphorical messages about the secrets of the body. But X-rays make so many fascinating cultural appearances that I could forgive the occasional lack of subtlety. There’s an in-depth discussion of H.G. Wells’s The Invisible Man, and Superman was only one of the comic-book heroes to boast X-ray vision. The technology has been used to measure feet for shoes, reveal the hidden history of paintings, and keep air travellers safe. I went in for a hospital X-ray of my foot not long after reading this. It was such a quick and simple process, as you’ll find at the dentist’s office as well, and safe enough that my radiographer was pregnant.
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