Animals Strike Curious Poses

Starred review from January 2, 2017
Passarello (Let Me Clear My Throat) traces stories of famous animals and how they reshape our thinking about humanity in this stunning collection of 17 brief essays. Some read as traditional essays, such as her mediations on the need for new language in an age of mass extinction, the way that artist Albrecht Dürer’s wildly inaccurate rhinoceros prints influenced popular imagination in 16th century Europe, and the author’s personal encounter with a deformed goat who was billed as “Lancelot, the Living Unicorn” by Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus in 1985. Others are more genre-blending: Passarello inhabits the mind of Charles Darwin’s pet tortoise and imagines Koko the signing gorilla retelling the infamous “Aristocrats” joke in her limited vocabulary. Passarello’s keen wit is on display throughout as she raises questions about the uniqueness of humans. Perhaps the most stunning work is her bricolage timeline of murderous elephants in America, which aligns their crimes and executions with the rise of electricity and capital punishment. The entire collection satisfies through a feast of surprising juxtapositions and gorgeous prose.

November 15, 2016
An essayist populates a bestiary of an ark with famous animals from history, all celebrated by humans even as we harnessed and exploited them.Passarello (English/Oregon State Univ.; Let Me Clear My Throat: Essays, 2012) welds eccentric stylistics, which can feel rather too fanciful or ethereal, to more grounded and less "poetic" deliberations on varied well-known species while revealing that we do not know as much about them as we thought. The former do not read as essays so much as peculiar little anthropomorphic meditations, some of which presuppose areas of knowledge on the reader's part while providing meager enlightenment of their own. They tend toward the allegorical, peppered with all manner of similes and labored metaphors, which work only occasionally. What are we to make of such lines as, "the stews downriver had less fornication," or the curious amalgam of elephant and electricity in "Jumbo II"? Doubtless these installments are matters of taste, though some readers may wonder at the point of it all. Thankfully, the majority of the book is more concrete, definitely more engaging, and decidedly more edifying. Despite Passarello's tendency to ramble, there is an agile intelligence at work in the best pieces, as she makes connections among disparate elements and wields keen perceptions on the creatures she encounters. There are some real dazzlers. Particularly impressive are "Vogel Staar," a meld of Mozart and starling, "Four Horsemen," an anatomical evaluation of our equine friends and the partnership we share, and "Celia," an elegy for the disturbing pace of extinctions, past and present. Another fine piece, "Lancelot," uses autobiographical elements to prime a salvo on the commercialization of animals and the hollowness of zoos. Even Beatrix Potter takes her lumps. Passarello manages to chronicle humanity's cavalier exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals without getting preachy in the process--no mean feat. If only the entirety of the book reflected the gifts the author demonstrates at her best.

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Starred review from February 1, 2017
This phenomenal collection of essays documents the lives of particular animals from a wide range of species, following a structure similar to Passarello's previous Let Me Clear My Throat (2012), which explores the human voice through individual recording artists. This contemporary bestiary reaches back to Yuka, a mammoth frozen in ice for nearly 40,000 years, and up to the infamous case of Cecil the lion, murdered by an American dentist. Passarello treats her subjects with dexterous care, weaving narratives together in a way that investigates, honors, and complicates her subjects. One essay chronicles the life of Harriet, a 176-year-old tortoise, purportedly collected by Charles Darwin himself and celebrated at her final home in Australia by excitable naturalist Steve Irwin. Another traces the peculiar influence of Albrecht Durer's fanciful woodcut of the then little-known rhinoceros, which circulated widely at a time when half the world was built on hearsay. An especially harrowing entry on Jumbo II catalogs the long tradition of pachyderm exploitation and abuse in American circuses. A lighter entry consists of a joke composed entirely of words used by Koko the gorilla, who understands sign language. Passarello has created a consistently original, thoroughly researched, altogether fascinating compendium.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2017, American Library Association.)