Fossil Hunter: How Mary Anning Changed the Science of Prehistoric Life: A Review

I received a free ARC of this book from NetGalley in exchange for a fair review.

Title: Fossil Hunter: How Mary Anning Changed the Science of Prehistoric Life
Author: Cheryl Blackford
Illustrators: Cover by Stephanie Son, interior illustrations and paleoart by Ellen Duda
Rating: 4/5

Mary Anning is the single most important paleontologist you’ve never heard of. She discovered the first Plesiosaurus, the body of the first Ichthyosaur, and the first pterosaur outside of Germany. She first identified the “bezoar” stones in the stomachs of fossils to be coprolites (fossilized feces) and figured out that Belemnoids, an extinct cephalopod, had ink sacs like its modern relatives. Her specimens are among the most prized possessions of the Natural History Museum in London. And she barely received any credit in her time and today is barely known.

Cheryl Blackford, herself a geologist, sets out to address this in her middle grade biography of Anning. The book begins with a prehistoric interlude with the doomed ichthyosaur that would someday be discovered by the Anning siblings, Joseph and Mary, followed by a chapter introducing Anning and her excavations-- from there, the biography is chronological. The biographical style is somewhat inconsistent. The introduction with the ichthyosaur and the first chapter, "Crocodile or Sea Monster?" show signs of wanting to be a narrative biography: "Thirteen-year-old Mary Anning had been hunting for an elusive treasure for months.”[1] This stands out because the rest of the book is a typical facts-only biography with no other narrative sections. This may be because the copy I read is an uncorrected proof, so this may change between now and its forthcoming publication in January, 2022. Despite this uneven opening, the rest of the book is well-organized by general era of Mary's life, and it's not cluttered by sidebars or unrelated images. 

Duria Antiquior, a more ancient Dorset, by Henry De la Beche, based on specimens discovered by Mary Anning[2]

Part of the fun for me is the inclusion of historical images. While I love paleontology in general, I find the early years of the science especially interesting. I'm fascinated with how people viewed prehistory before our modern understanding-- for example, when the Annings found their first ichthyosaur (a process that took a year, between 1811 and 1812), the only point of reference people had for the strange discovery was the crocodile. Because there were only limited specimens and research into these creatures was in its infancy, artistic reconstructions look a little goofy today, but I find them charming. Even more useful for the young reader learning about Anning are the exquisite sketches she made of her finds. It really gives the reader an impression of Anning’s dedication to her job. One thing I didn’t know was that, since she couldn’t afford books or journal subscriptions (an issue independent scholars still face to this day), she would painstakingly copy out whole articles by hand on whatever material available. Something about this particularly struck me. The paleoart by Ellen Duda in this book is very nice and serves to contextualize the fossils as living creatures well, but I was disappointed there were no illustrations of Anning’s era like on the cover. This I think is a similar issue to the inconsistent writing—the book feels like it doesn’t know what it wants to be.

These style issues aside, Fossil Hunter is a good, accessible introduction to the life and work of Mary Anning, and will hopefully influence young readers to learn more about the early years of paleontology, as well as about the woman who so often has been forgotten in discussions of this history.

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[1]Blackford, Cheryl. “Chapter 1: Crocodile or Sea Monster.” In Fossil Hunter: How Mary Anning Changed the Science of Prehistoric Life, 3. Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, forthcoming. 

[2] Henry De la Beche. Duria Antiquior, a More Ancient Dorset. 1830. Watercolor. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Duria_Antiquior.jpg.

Having Fun Isn't Hard When You've Got a Library Card! Or, What I Did This Summer

 Hello everyone, time for an update.

At the beginning of the year, I intended to write more articles. That obviously didn't happen, and so far I've only written two, both reviews. However, I have a (hopefully) good reason for neglecting this blog. 

I spent most of this year searching for a more steady job, being a freelancer can be fun but so is having money and steady experience in my field. After some false starts, I finally landed a position at my local library. It's great to be back at my home library, where I not only volunteered for years, but had my first paying job ten years ago. I also get to have, for the first time ever, a free library card (since I live in an unserved area). 

Hopefully I'll be back on soon with another ridiculously wordy article about some random topic, but until then I just wanted to post an update.

Anne and Louis: Forever Bound Review

Before I begin this review, I need to apologize for its lateness. I fully intended to have this book finished and reviewed in May, but family health issues and my own employment situation took up so much of my time this summer that I'm yet again late with my writing schedule.

I received a free ARC from NetGalley in exchange for a fair review. I was also personally asked for a review by the author, Rozsa Gaston.

Title: Anne and Louis Forever Bound: The Final Years of Anne of Brittany's Marriage to Louis XII of France
Series: Anne of Brittany, book 4
Author: Rozsa Gaston
Rating: 3.5/5

Rozsa Gaston's series following the life of Anne of Brittany reaches its conclusion in Forever Bound, beginning in 1508 and ending in 1514 with Anne's untimely death at 36. I've reviewed its predecessor, Rulers and Lovers, in a post last year. 

The easiest way to begin is to look at what I liked. There are more narrative scenes and Anne has a much stronger personality than in the previous book and the ones before it. Claude has a whole chapter to herself, which will win me over any day. The eponymous Anne and Louis have a nuanced marriage -- loving and supportive, though often strained by their roles as politicians with contradicting goals. I loved the references to Louis's family, including his grandmother Valentina Visconti (appearing here as a painting Louis talks to for advice) and his father Charles d'Orleans, who I've written about my love for on this blog before. This ties in with the increased emphasis on family bonds, which is explored through Anne's fight for her daughters' inheritances, the loss of Louis's nephew Gaston of Foix, and Louise of Savoy's scheming for her own children.

Anne herself has some excellent moments-- especially with other characters. Her confrontation with Louis over his fight with the pope stands out, especially when she snaps and says she's not going to risk the souls of their subjects (France was facing the possibility of being placed under interdict, which would bar all subjects from taking part in the sacraments), and that Louis only cares about the Chruch when it's on his side. Her interrogation of a suspected spy in the household is also done well and has some great tension, and her finally meeting with her rival Louise of Savoy is also a delight. I also very much do enjoy the inclusion of historical images as illustrations and to give the reader a bit more context for the era and people.

This brings me to some issues I had with Anne and Louis.

My major issue with this book is one I have with most historical fiction, including my own attempts-- it is overwhelmingly exposition, with very little action. Most of the major events are related to us by the narrator, rather than through scenes of a story, and what events are deemed important enough to actually show is uneven. Hete we have scenes of the cook and kitchen maid discussing Anne's matchmaking, but the Battle of Saint-Mathieu and the loss of the Marie-la-Cordelière, one of the great tragedies of the era, as well as the reactions of Anne and Louis, are only briefly mentioned. I got the feeling I was reading a textbook rather than historical fiction and that the book wanted to be both. There is a bibliography at the back, but several books cited are completely unrelated, fiction, or both (like Anya Seton's Katherine). I noticed this with the previous books and I still do not understand why this is included. The dialog was decent but stilted-- Anne's habit of addressing Louis as "husband" was especially grating and made me glad when most of their conversations were over.

My second issue is with the portrayal of Louise of Savoy. Louise is Anne's main rival, now that Anne of Bejeau is no longer the major player she was in French politics. I don't object to portraying them as rivals, they obviously were, but I would liked to have seen a more nuanced take on Louise. She's the designated villain in this story, and I would accept that as just being from Anne's perspective except the book is from multiple third-person points of view. Louise was a rival to Anne, yes, and she was dedicated to her son (to the point of overprotective) but I think she had reason to be-- she was widowed at a young age with two small children, in a precarious political situation.

There's a lot you could do to compare her with Anne of Brittany, and nearing the end, Anne does realize that she also would do anything for her son had he lived, and she's already doing whatever she can for her daughters. A major issue that I found Anne and Louis XII dealing with was that they wanted what was best for their countries and those goals put them at odds, especially over their children, even though they want what's best for Claude and Renée. Louise is the same, we just don't get to sympathize with her.

Anne and Louis is a good read for nonspecialist readers interested in the era and the people, especially those who want a general overview given in a narrative format. Thanks again to NetGalley for the ARC and thanks to Rozsa for being interested in my feedback!

Bliss and Blunder: A Review of The Green Knight (2021)

Arthurian literature is a tricky thing. While the general image of King Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot have been ingrained in the minds of most anglophone people, there is no real "canon" of authoritative versions of the legends in the way there is a Shakespearian canon. While the most familiar version of Arthur began with England's Geoffrey of Monmouth in the 12th century, Welsh and Breton sources date even further back. After Geoffrey, French and English-language authors wrote their own adaptations, including Chrétien de Troyes, who introduced the Grail Quest, and most pertinent to this discussion, the anonymous author of the Middle English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Each new version adds something to the legend, resulting in hundreds of different plots and variations on them, often contradictory characterizations, and no "correct" version of whatever story a modern bard will present. Even I, a certified The Book Was Better Than The Movie Snob, must admit that any adaptation of the Matter of Britain will be both its own thing and an addition to the ever-evolving state of Arthurian fiction.

Enter The Green Knight.