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............Man's relation to the sea and its inhabitants has
always been an ambivalent one. For many peoples, the sea was a
terrifying expanse well beyond day-to-day contact, and this is
reflected in their recorded lore. For example, the ancient
Babylonians personified the salt waters of the Earth as the dragon
Tiamat, a force of chaos that had to be slain before the livable
globe could be created. For others, the ocean represented a vast
storehouse of goods-fish for eating, salt for seasoning, dye for
clothing, etc. Yet the element of danger was always present. Even
the most skilled of seafaring cultures, such as the Vikings,
recognized the produce and peril of their surroundings. At the same
time the sea giant Aegir could warmly extend meals of smoked salmon
and tankards of mead, his wife Ran netted drowning sailors, pulling
them to a grim final resting place beneath the chill north seas.
This dualistic view of the ocean has continued through later
periods, infusing literature, poetry, and popular accounts of the
deep. And few symbols of the waters have been so widely exploited
as the fish. Their synonymy with water is not so much tied to their
physiology as their ubiquity (after all, there are a great many
gilled organisms who have never appeared beyond the zoological
literature.) Fish are far and away the most common and diverse
vertebrate on the planet, and can be found in just about any body
of water, from the deepest ocean trench to the highest mountain
stream.
My own fascination with fish and fishy writings dates back as far
as I can remember, as part of an overarching interest in natural
history that led to many forced outings to rivers and museums (I
like to think that my parents have finally recovered from two
decades of being dragged from exhibit to exhibit by the cuff of
their shirts, but the verdict is still out.) This interest has
snowballed over time, and today I work at the Division of Fishes at
the Field Museum of Natural History, devoting my time to the study
of ichthyology. My book collections have mirrored this development,
so one can find a tattered copy of One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish,
Blue Fish giving way over the years to Fieldiana Zoology Series: A
Revision of the Alepisauroid Family Scopelarchidae (Pisces:
Myctophiformes). By necessity I maintain a sizable amount of the
technical literature on fishes, and although these are engrossing
in the utmost, increasingly I have found that the mind cannot dwell
on fin counts and quantitative analyses of gill function alone. The
human element of our understanding of fishes, as reviewed in the
preceding paragraph, must be had. To this end, I have turned to
reading and collecting books that deal with a non-technical
approach to our finny friends and foes-fish lit, fish legend, and
various personal accounts of encounters with marine life. This
collection began at about the same time as my "research
collection", although since this was back in elementary school, the
lines between popular and scientific accounts were considerably
more blurred. Indeed, several of the books I consider today to be
"pop natural history accounts", such as Search for a Living Fossil,
started life in the "research book" category. A number of my most
treasured books date from this early period, and there was some
sense of collecting already established, but only in the past few
years have I developed a focused pursuit of man-fish books. The
limits of this collection are constantly in a state of flux-as has
already been mentioned the difference between a technical account
and a popular account of technical matters is often a judgement
call. Also somewhat variable is the amount of fishy content
required to "make" the collection: thus I include the Bible for the
story of Jonah, as though it is but a tiny fraction of the entire
work, as the seminal encounter between man and the might of the
marine world it really must be included. Also included are certain
books on myth and fantastic creatures that deal predominately with
sea monsters, but may contain a smattering of chapters on
terrestrial beasties.
Although fishy writings cannot properly be called a genre in and of
themselves, within my collection there are definitely some
discernable "subgenres." The first of these is admittedly
underrepresented on my shelves at the present time, and consists of
tales about mermaids and other human-fish hybrids. Perhaps the most
intimate example of man-fish interaction, here again the dualistic
nature of the sea is seen. On the one hand (or should that be fin?)
mermaids can be beautiful gifts of the waters, a boon to the lonely
sailor. All too often, however, they are portrayed as deadly
seductresses dragging unwitting, entranced landfolk to a watery
grave. (The siren probably exemplifies this class of predatory
mermaid; although they were originally portrayed as bird-women in
Greek myth, over time they have been completely fused with
mermaids.) The second subgenre in my collection severely strains
the zoological concept of "fish", but I feel it fits in perfectly
with the larger theme of the ocean as a repository of unknown
monsters waiting to menace mankind. The subject of this subgenre is
the giant squid (Architeuthis dux), also known as the devilfish or
kraken. A more apt symbol of chaos and the unknown can scarcely be
imagined: to quote Melville, "a vast pulpy mass, furlongs in length
and breadth", lined with suckers and a chimerical, snapping beak.
The image of the giant squid has captivated the human mind like few
other creatures, due in large part to its adamant refusal to be
understood by modern science. To this day no one has seen it alive
in its natural environment, and even the most basic elements of its
biology are largely unknown. This elusive status has served as the
springboard for many literary flights of fancy, almost invariably
as an antagonist.
Although the release of books on fish-human interactions is
irregular at best, I imagine my collection expanding considerably
in the years to come. As mentioned above, the intriguing merfolk
subgenre, on which much has been written, is pitifully represented
as of this writing. Also high on my want list are the great
medieval and Renaissance accounts of sea life, from the classic
bestiaries to the travelogues of the likes of Olaus Magnus and
Bishop Erik Pontoppidan, the fathers of post-Viking Scandinavian
sea monster sightings. Finally, I have noticed a rise of late in
historical accounts on fish as goods and their role in influencing
human culture. I'm saving up for a book by Inga Saffron (2002)
entitled Caviar: The Strange History and Uncertain Future of the
World's Most Coveted Delicacy. I hope to make it the companion
piece to my copy of Cod: A Biography of the Fish That Changed the
World. With any luck, more such books will appear in the future, as
the tides of my ichthyo-bibliophilia show no signs of
receding.
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ANNOTATED
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Fish Novels
Moby-Dick, by Herman Melville. Toronto: Bantam Books, 1981
(original 1851).
Condition: Fair, paperback
In my opinion, the definitive book about man's interaction with the
sea and its fauna. Yes, the title character is a mammal by our
standards, but Melville argues at length for classifying it as "the
great fishe." It covers all the bases of fish books: whaling as
oceanic bounty, symbolist presentations of the might of the sea,
fish as the ultimate power of the divine, and even a giant squid
for good measure. Melville's sections on cetology are a marvel to
behold, and are actually better than some contemporaneous
"scientific" accounts on the subject. My copy of the novel is an
unassuming paperback, with dog-eared edges, yellowed pages, and
some creasing of the spine. Nevertheless it is one of the most
prized elements of my collection, as it was one of the earlier
items of the collection I acquired and really got me in to marine
literature. Most of the novels in my collection are paperbacks that
are prone to transport in book-unfriendly situations. I try to take
the greatest care in preserving them, but the lure of bringing
along The Compleat Angler on a fishing trip or Jaws on a day at the
beach is too great, and some damage is inevitable. Moby-Dick
accompanied me on my first major research trip last September, a
month-long voyage studying hydrothermal vents 300 miles off the
coast of Oregon. It returned with some abyssal tube worm smudges on
the cover, but otherwise none the worse for wear.
The Old Man and the Sea, by Ernest Hemingway. New York:
Collier Books, 1980 (original 1952.)
Condition: Middling (yellowed pages, creased cover, highlighter
marks in text), paperback
Arguably my favorite novel about battling an actual fish.
Santiago's prolonged struggle with an enormous marlin, finally
claiming victory over the beast, his "brother", is one of the
finest descriptions of human vs. nature I've read. Made all the
better by having the fishes win out in the end, in the form of the
destruction of the marlin corpse by frenzied sharks. My mom bought
this copy for me long ago at a garage sale.
Jaws, by Peter Benchley. New York: Fawcett Crest, 1991
(original 1974.)
Condition: Excellent, paperback
The progenitor of the modern marine suspense novel, of which there
is a surprising number (see Meg below). The characterizations owe
much to Melville and Verne, but the likes of Brody and Quint have
become classic fish lit figures in their own right. This novel is
notable not just as a description of man's fear of fish, but also
as having actively influenced this fear. Following the publication
of the book, and especially the release of Steven Spielberg's
movie, anti-shark sentiments and the need to "stay out of the
water" skyrocketed in America.
White Shark, by Peter Benchley. New York: St. Martin's
Press, 1995.
Condition: Excellent, paperback
Meg, by Steve Alten. New York: Bantam Books,
1998.
Condition: Good, paperback
Pure schlock, this most prominent of the "Jaws-inspired novels"
(that's an overly generous description) concerns attacks by living
representatives of the enormous fossil shark Carcharocles
megalodon. A guilty pleasure.
The Compleat Angler, by Izaak Walton. New York: The
Modern Library, 1998 (original 1653.)
Condition: Excellent, paperback
Not really a novel, Walton's book is at the same time fishing
manual, philosophical dialogue, and collection of 17th century
English poetry. Perfect for quiet contemplation when one tires of
perpetual assault by sea monsters. I've fancied this book for some
time, but only in the past year broke down and bought it.
The Black Pearl, by Scott O'Dell. Boston: Houghton
Mifflin Co., 1967.
Condition: Fair, paperback
A thin, Newberry-winning novel for "young adults" the likes of
which were required for my book reports in 5th grade. Notable for
its quite literal connection between ocean's bounty and terror-the
titular gem is guarded by a giant ray named "Manta Diablo." (The
manta ray is often known as "devilfish", an appellation also
granted to the giant squid, octopus, and gray whale and a
linguistic example of just how many mostly-harmless sea creatures
have been built into feared leviathans by human imagination.)
Gould's Book of Fish, by Richard Flanagan. New York:
Grove Press, 2001.
Condition: As new, paperback
My most recent acquisition. I very rarely impulse buy, preferring
instead to test the waters (if you'll excuse the pun) by a trip to
the library. But, with a cover claim that, "Gould's Book of Fish is
a novel about fish the way Moby-Dick is a novel about whales", I
just couldn't resist. (It isn't, by the way, but is still a good
read.)
Giant Squid
The Search for the Giant Squid, by Richard Ellis. New
York: The Lyons Press, 1998.
Condition: Very good, hardcover with dust jacket in place
A fine popular account of all aspects of Architeuthis, from biology
to legend to literature to film. Ellis is well-known as an
illustrator of marine life, but has proven to be a capable
historian as well. Especially valuable are tables of every recorded
giant squid stranding and an entire section on the role of the
giant squid in science fiction.
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, by Jules Verne. New York:
Bantam Books, 1981 (original 1870).
Condition: Excellent, paperback
The most famous part of this novel, the battle between Captain Nemo
and the giant squid, is actually only a few pages long.
Nevertheless, it is concerned throughout with the mysteries of the
deep, and its prescient description of submarine travel earns it a
spot in any assortment of books about man's interaction with fish.
It also stands out as one of the earliest works to feature an
attacking "sea monster" (hypothesized in the book to be a giant
narwhal) that turns out to be a man-made creation, blurring the
lines between the roles of man and nature.
The Toilers of the Sea, by Victor Hugo. New York:
Signet Classics, 2000.
Condition: Excellent, paperback
The most underrated of Hugo's major works and my personal favorite.
The life and loves of Channel Island fisherman Gilliatt at times
linger in day-to-day struggles, but it seems Hugo couldn't resist
throwing in a real sea monster in the form of a giant octopus. This
beast is introduced in one of the most damning descriptions of an
organism ever put to paper, that questions the very goodness of God
for creating such an execrable organism. It also features on of the
best quotes on the aquatic unknown, "not a breast would dare give
suck, not a heart would dare to love, not a spirit would dare take
flight, if one meditated on the sinister shapes patiently lying in
ambush in the abyss."
Beast, by Peter Benchley. New York: Random House,
1991.
Condition: Good, hardcover (no dust jacket)
When Benchley wanted to follow up the great white shark with a sea
monster even more terrifying, there could be only one choice: our
old friend Architeuthis. Ian Fleming made a similar decision in
having a giant squid as the ultimate death trap for James Bond in
the original Dr. No.
Monsters and Merpeople
Creatures from Elsewhere, edited by Peter Brooksmith.
London: Orbis Publishing, 1984.
Condition: Fair (some creasing on covers, dog-eared edges),
paperback
A general work on the search for fantastic creatures in the modern
age, with lengthy sections on mermaids, sea serpents, lake
monsters, and amphibious creatures.
Monsters of the Sea: The history, natural history, and
mythology of the ocean's most fantastic creatures, by Richard
Ellis. New York: Doubleday, 1994.
Condition: Good, paperback
The Best of H. P. Lovecraft, works by H. P. Lovecraft
with an introduction by Robert Bloch. New York: Del Rey Books, 1982
(original 1962, compilation of short stories published in the 1920s
and 30s.)
Condition: Excellent, paperback
Almost all of Lovecraft's stories deal with humans encountering
nameless horrors beyond our understanding, and as such, it should
come as no surprise that he used the ocean as the source of many of
them. Top among these is "The Shadow over Innsmouth", which can be
counted as the end of the continuum of "good mermaid to bad." Here
the seduction of beauty has given way to the seduction of power,
with a town of New Englanders allowing their young to breed with a
race of fish-like "Deep Ones" in exchange for magic and
immortality. The subsequent fish-hybrids are incredibly repugnant
beings, but nonetheless are said to "dwell amidst wonder and glory
for ever." This compilation of Lovecraft stories also includes what
may be his most famous work, The Call of Cthulhu. Cthulhu is
nominally a giant space alien, but his inspiration is decidedly
terrestrial-the image of a titanic cephalopod rising from Cyclopean
ruins in the depths of the ocean, after eons of sleep, is of course
Architeuthis once more, and is lifted directly from Tennyson's "The
Kraken."
Popular Accounts, Historical Accounts, and
Other
Cod: A Biography of the Fish That Changed the World, by
Mark Kurlansky. New York: Walker and Co., 1997.
Condition: Excellent, hardcover with dust jacket in place
The title may be ridiculous but the book itself is solid historical
analysis of the cod-fishing industry and its effect on exploration
in the New World, colonialism, and modern fishing laws. This may be
my most valued book because it was left to me by my late
grandfather, a navigator in the Merchant Marines who instilled in
me much of my love of the sea and its creatures.
Twelve Days of Terror: A Definitive Investigation of the
1916 New Jersey Shark Attacks, by Richard G. Fernicola, MD.
Guilford, CT: The Lyons Press, 2001.
Condition: Excellent, paperback
Deep Atlantic: Life, Death, and Exploration in the
Abyss, by Richard Ellis. New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1996.
Condition: Very good, hardcover with dust jacket in place
Silent World, by Jacques-Yves Cousteau with Frederic
Dumas and James Dugan. New York: Ballantine Books, 1953.
Condition: Middling (yellowed pages), hardcover (originally a
paperback, this a rebound copy I obtained at a library sale.)
Cousteau was quite possibly the most important popularizer of
marine research in the last century, and Silent World is typical of
his style, spinning tales of the seas as magical, alien landscapes.
At times his works suggests not as much studying as communing with
aquatic life: Chapter One is entitled "Menfish."
Catholic Family Edition of the Holy Bible. New York:
John J. Crawley & Co., Inc., 1953.
Condition: Very good, hardcover with cardboard holding case
Fish in Nutrition, edited by Eirik Heen and Rudolf
Kreuzer. London: Fishing News (Books) Ltd., 1962.
Condition: Good, hardcover
Somewhat of a cheat, as this is decidedly a technical work, but as
it focuses solely on the use of fish for human consumption, I felt
it appropriate to group it in this collection rather than with my
books dealing with pure fish biology.
Ray Troll's Shocking Fish Tales, by Ray Troll and Brad
Matsen. Berkeley: Ten Speed Press, 1993.
Condition: Very good, paperback
Somewhat of a modern, illustrated Compleat Angler-cum-On the Road,
this book and its companion piece, Planet Ocean, provide an
intriguing and oft-hilarious view on fishing, natural history, and
where the twain meet. These volumes include many of the paintings
seen on Ray Troll's t-shirts, such as "Out of the Ooze and Born to
Cruise" (about fish evolving into amphibians) and "Spawn 'Til You
Die", that are required wearing for all ichthyologists and
paleontologists.
Planet Ocean: A Story of Life, the Sea, and Dancing to the
Fossil Record, by Brad Matsen and Ray Troll. Berkeley: Ten
Speed Press, 1994.
Condition: Very good, hardcover with dust jacket in place
Search for a Living Fossil: The Story of the
Coelacanth, by Eleanor Lowenton Clymer. Holt, Reinhardt, and
Winston. 1963.
Condition: Fair (yellowed pages), paperback
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