Skip to main content

First paragraph from David Quammen's Monster of God



I can tell that this is going to be a great book to read and talk about.


Great and terrible flesh eating beasts have always shared landscape with humans. They were part of the ecological matrix with which Homo sapiens evolved. They were a part of the psychological contect in which our sense of idenity as a species arose. They were part of the spiritual systems we invented for coping. The teeth of the predators, their claws, their ferocity and their hunger were grim realities that could be eluded but not forgotten. Every once in a while, a monsterous carnivore emerged like doom from a forest or a river to kill someone and feed on the body. It was a familiar sort of disaster-like auto fatalities today- that must have seemed freshly, shockingly gruesome each time, despite the familiarity. And it conveyed a certain message. Among the earliest forms of human self-awareness was the awareness of being meat.

http://www.onpointradio.org/shows/2003/10/20031002_b_main.asp

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Old post from the Anthropik network

"I noticed, when she delivered the plate of fruit, that my Balian hostess was also balancing a tray containing many little green bowls-small, boatshaped platters, each of them woven neatly from a freshly cut section of palm frond. The platters were two or three inches long, and within each was a small mound of white rice. After handing me my breakfast, the woman and the tray disappeared from view behind the other buildings, and when she came by some minutes later to pick up my empty plate, the tray was empty as well. * On the second morning, when I saw the array of tiny rice platters, I asked my hostess what they were for. Patiently, she explained to me that they were offerings for the household spirits. When I inquired about the Balinese term that she used for "spirit," she repeated the explanation in Indonesian, saying that these were gifts for the spirits of the family compound, and I saw that I had understood her correctly. She handed me a bowl of sliced papaya and...

Country Bumpkin Charm

Each time I fly back to the big city, I sneak up on my old friend Tim. After surprising him with a traditional Inspector Clouseau / Kato maneuver, we drive around for Auld Lang Syne. While we hit most of our old haunts, the past we worship briefly resuscitates, through the well-regarded stories we share. We exchange our lively anecdotes; some unspoken for decades, as I cruise an old beater past the house where we dropped off a dropsy friend with a fine-feather we adorned in his cap, so his dad could get a good laugh at the boys out on the town. After a sentimental pizza, I hit the free-for-all freeway, where I drive in the slow lane. Tim says I drive like a country bumpkin. We come to a stop light and glance over at the racecar next to us, booming out rapid bass beats from its speakers. Tim doesn’t stare at the people, but I do, ‘cause I’m freshly fallen off the spud wagon, landed directly at Dulles Airport . Fifteen years in Idaho changes my outlook. At the airport, I watched pass...

May Writing Prompt

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea Hello fellow aspiring Idahoans who are chalk full of creative jangling juices, while dangling over precipices. What we are hoping for here are the most imaginative things that you think a fortunate diver might find at the very bottom of Redfish Lake. The more far-fetched the item -the better. Please dig deep and try to touch bottom here. Stretch that flaccid imagination out for a walk around the sparkly lake and shake off those Winter Doldrums. We encourage your comments: