Entries called for "layman's" science book prize

Royal Society of New Zealand announces $5000 prize

Seeking to promote popular science writing in New Zealand, the Royal Society is calling for entries for this award.

Time is short.  The deadline for entries (five finished books plus a filled-in form, available on their website) is 4 February.

Judging is equally quick.  The shortlist will be announced 25 March.

And the winner will be announced at the Auckland Readers' and Writers' Festival in May.

The remarkable story of Tupaia's pet bird



From Peter Brown,
New Illustrations of Zoology
 ... plate VII. (London, 1776).
Courtesy National Library of Australia.

 Tupaia’s lorikeet

A heartwarming story from his biography, Tupaia, the remarkable story of Captain Cook's Polynesian navigator.

While it was not unknown for a sailor to make a pet of a bird, fowl were much more commonly stewed and eaten, in an effort to give variety to the shipboard diet. Sydney Parkinson, draughtsman on the Endeavour, recorded in Botany Bay that they ‘saw a great number of birds of a beautiful plumage; among which were two sorts of parroquets, and a beautiful loriquette: we shot a few of them, which we made into a pie, and they ate very well’. So, when Tupaia adopted a lorikeet he had winged, he not only broke with tradition, but he saved a bird from the pot.

Peter Brown, the man who painted Tupaia's bird after it arrived in England, was a natural history artist of Danish descent who exhibited at the Royal Academy, and was botanical draughtsman for the Prince of Wales. He is most famous for his book, New Illustrations of Zoology ..., which includes the earliest published illustration of an Australian bird, described as a ‘Blue-headed and bellied Parrot’ that had been brought to England from Botany Bay, New South Wales, by Joseph Banks. The caption also records that the painting was made on ‘November 3 1774’ — evidence that Tupaia’s bird was still alive on that date.

After arriving in England, Banks gave the lorikeet to Marmaduke Tunstall, a wealthy collector and sponsor of natural history expeditions, who had established a museum and a menagerie of live animals at his home in Welbeck Street, London, and at the same time told Tunstall that the bird had belonged to ‘the unfortunate Tupia, a native of Otaheite’. In 1776 Tunstall moved the entire museum — which, according to his memoir, included ‘a large collection of curiosities brought by Capt. Cook from Otaheite’ — to his estate at Wycliffe in North Yorkshire.

In 1791, a year after Tunstall’s death, the collection was sold to his friend, George Allan of Darlington, for the highly discounted sum of £700 (the birds alone had cost Tunstall £5,000). In 1822 it was purchased by the Literary and Philosophical Society of Newcastle for display in a new town museum. Did it include Tupaia's bird, now dead and stuffed?  No one knows, for that is where the story stops.  The Tunstall collection is now held by the Great North Museum: Hancock, in Newcastle, England, but whether Tupaia’s bird is still there is impossible to tell.  None of the staff can find it.

Design underway for illustrated edition of TUPAIA

The illustrated Tupaia

Yes, the blog had to be put aside.  It was time that had to be devoted entirely (almost) to the design for the beautiful edition of TUPAIA that Random House New Zealand is going to publish in May.  Sorting out the images and writing the captions took up every spare moment over Christmas and the New Year, with the indefatigable Alex Bishop returning to work early January ("It's spooky in the office with no one else there," she confided), to lay out spreadsheets.

Ron was hard at work, too, producing maps and sketches like the one of HMS Dolphin to the right, above.

Now, it is ready to be handed over to the designer, who will work with the first proofs and the images as they come in -- mostly from the amazing collection of the National Library of Australia, but some from the picture collection of the Alexander Turnbull Library, too, with also an honourable mention of the oil painting of Robert Molineux that is held by the Hocken Library of the University of Otago, Dunedin.

Lost documents reveal first human dissection in India

Dissection papers unearthed

The Times of India for January 13 has a fascinating story from Kolkata (Calcutta).  Doctors at the anatomy department of the Calcutta Medical College and Hospital have unearthed papers documenting Asia's first human dissection, carried out in secrecy by a Bengali vaidya (traditional Hindu physician), Madhusudan Gupta.

There were complicated social customs behind the undercover nature of the procedure.  While the precursor of the Calcutta Medical College was built in 1822, with the aim of training Indians to assist British army doctors, no examination of human remains was part of the syllabus.  This was because Indian doctors could only be trained in ayurveda (the ancient Hindu science of health and medicine), and unani (medical treatment based on the "four humors," blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile).  Like the lofty physicians of pre-eighteenth century Britain, they could not soil their hands, because of the social stigma of even touching a corpse, let alone dissecting it.

These papers tell a dramatic story from the year 1835, revealing how the college principal and the head of the anatomy department organized the smuggling in of a corpse, a daring feat because of Hindu lookouts who kept vigil on the college to make sure that nothing like that happened.  A local noble, Prince Dwarkanath Tagore, was involved, as well as two British doctors, named Gudiff and Bremley.

The corpse, an unclaimed male body, was dissected in an outhouse of the college by Gupta, while Gudiff and Bremley watched.  Every step in the procedure was documented, making up a folder of instructive notes for students -- and it is these papers that have been unearthed, much to the interest of modern anatomists.

In a fascinating coincidence of history, the papers indicate that Gupta was trained in the art of dissection by a Scot named David Hare.  It is an echo of the infamous Burke and Hare story, of two Scottish grave robbers who supplied bodies for dissection at a time when British social customs made it was almost as hard to carry out demonstrations in anatomy, as it was in far-off India. (See illustration above.)

Arizona Tragedy Renews Attention on Book of 9/11 Babies

A terrible coincidence of history.

The death of nine-year-old Christina Taylor Green in the Arizona shootings has brought national attention to a previously-overlooked 2002 book, Faces of Hope.

The editor and compiler of this inspirational collection, Christine Pisera Naman, gave birth to a son, Trevor, during the terrible events of September 11, 2001.  Inspired, she gathered black and white photos of her child and 49 others who were born on 9/11, one from each state of the union, and gathered little message of hope to accompany the images. 

As the blurb of the 2002 release says, 'these shining faces give hope to our nation as its citizens reflect on the anniversary of September 11."

Christina Taylor Green, felled by an assassin's bullet, was the face for Arizona.

President Obama cited the book in last night's nationally-televised speech, saying: "As has already been mentioned, Christina was given to us on September 11th, 2001, one of 50 babies born that day to be pictured in a book called Faces of Hope. On either side of her photo in that book were simple wishes for a child's life. "I hope you help those in need," read one. "I hope you know all the words to the National Anthem and sing it with your hand over your heart." "I hope you jump in rain puddles." If there are rain puddles in Heaven, Christina is jumping in them today."

Kim Weiss, director of communications of the publisher, Florida-based HCI, reported that they were already receiving reorders for the book--including a sizable order from Ingram--prior to last night's speech, and demand has only increased. The company, which prints its own books, will be back on press later today for "a significant number" of new copies.  The content will not be revised.

From Publisher's Lunch, with additional material from Michael Santo.

Rave Review from Library Journal

LIBRARY JOURNAL REVIEW OF TUPAIA, CAPTAIN COOK'S POLYNESIAN NAVIGATOR


Many accounts of James Cook's first voyage to the South Pacific (1768-71) make scant mention of the Tahitian high priest Tupaia who became an invaluable navigator and translator on Cook's ship Endeavour for the latter part of the voyage. Maritime historian Druett's (Island of the Lost) refreshing, detailed, and insightful biographical history redresses that lack.

Much of what is known about Tupaia comes from the journals of the officers, scientists, and seamen with whom he shared the voyage, and Druett has drawn heavily upon thse sources, showing Tupaia to have had extensive knowledge of South Pacific island locations beyond Tahiti and outstanding skill in celestial navigation. He also helped the Endeavour's crew in translating the language and interpreting local culture on other Polynesian islands where Cook conducted extensive explorations.

Tupaia's legacy is apparent in his fascinating drawings made during the ship's voyage, reproduced here, which provide a glimpse into his perceptions of the world around him.

VERDICT Druett's narrative beautifully captures the essence of Tupaia's world and brings it alive for readers. Her excellent study of an extraordinary and nearly forgotten Tahitian should be enjoyed by readers interested in British maritime history and Polynesian history and culture.

--Elizabeth Salt, Otterbein Univ. Lib., Westerville, OH. Copyright 2010.

Kindle bestseller list for History of Australia and Oceania

It's a triumph of sorts, I guess.

Well, it's the first time I have had two books on an amazon.com top 100 sellers list.

Island of the Lost is close to the top of the list of kindle titles sold to fans of Australian and Oceanic history -- as it has been for months, particularly since Algonquin let the hardback go out of print.

Now it is joined by Tupaia, Captain Cook's Polynesian Navigator (on the second page) -- which is quite a surprise, considering the biography's quiet entrance onto the scene.

And the fact that being issued as a kindle book was not part of the original plan...

MYSTERY BOOKSTORE CLOSING

Sad news from Los Angeles

One of the great highlights of 2005 for me, was a day of signing books at the Mystery Bookstore in Westwood, Los Angeles.  It is a famous store, mentioned often in Michael Connolly's books, and host to every Big Name in modern mystery writing.

The owners and staff are tolerant folks.  When a day of signing the latest in the Wiki Coffin mystery series, Shark Island, was arranged, we asked if it was possible for the event to be attended by a crew of pirates, in costume, complete with Pirate Rats.  Without a blink, apparently, they grinned and agreed.  And a great deal of yo-ho-ho fun was had by all, with lots of photographs taken.

More fun for me was signing the 'jailhouse register,' a real prison attendance book, used by the store as a kind of visitors' book, which every author who did an event at the store signed, with often hilarious comments.  Reading through past entries was a Who's Who of mystery writing.  I was honored to add my signature to the illustrious list.

Today, I received this letter:
The Mystery Bookstore

January 11, 2011
Dear Author,

We have very much enjoyed owning the Mystery Bookstore in Los Angeles.
We've enjoyed your books and getting to know you, and the kindness and generosity of spirit you've shown us--as well as your visits and signings. Unfortunately, we, too, are going the way of too many independent bookstores. We simply cannot compete with the Amazons of the world and the impact of the economy. We love the bookstore and mysteries and the relationships we've formed with authors and publishers and agents and publicists. But, we do have retirement to think about (not in the near future!), and family and, well, all of those things that require money. So, it is with considerable sadness that we announce that The Mystery Bookstore, Los Angeles, will--after many years (and as apparently the last-standing bookstore in Westwood, other than UCLA's student store)--be closing.

Our last day will be January 31, 2011. We plan to have a "goodbye" and "thanks for the memories" party that evening, starting at 6:00. If you'll be in town, we'd love to have you join us one last time--and love to have you leave one last signature and comment in our "jailhouse register."

Thank you again for everything and for the privilege of selling your books and hopefully broadening your reading audience. We, of course, wish you nothing but bright futures, success, and many bestsellers--and we look forward to spending many an hour of reading enjoyment with your future works. While the Mystery Bookstore might continue only in the nether regions of the internet, your books and your support will always be close to us

Kirk Pasich and Pamela Woods
The Mystery Bookstore
1036-C Broxton Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90024
http://www.mystery-bookstore.com/

Thank you, Kirk and Pamela and your staff, for the great memories.  It's a sad day to see that lovely store closed.  I wish you the very best for the future.

Removing the N-word from Huckleberry Finn

The BBC, like a thousand or so other commentators on the arts, has published views on the bowdlerization of Mark Twain's classic, Huckleberry Finn.       

A new edition, coming out next month, has been edited by Twain scholar Professor Alan Gribben to remove the words 'nigger' and 'injun,' replacing them with 'slave' and 'Indian.'

People seem to be able to handle the tidying up up 'injun' (which indicates pronunciation rather than social attitude), but the removal of the N-word has infuriated many, who have let the publisher know about it in various ways. 

A valid point made is that Huckleberry Finn, first published in 1884, when discrimination was a part of everyday life, is anti-racist.  The constant repetition of the word, which is used 219 times in the book, is supposed to jar and make the reader uncomfortable.

There were plenty of racist words around then, just as there are today.  Is the next move for some academic to remove the word 'Jew' from Shakespeare's immortal Merchant of Venice?

'Jew' had nasty racial overtones then, and Shakespeare was making the same point that Twain made nearly 300 years later.

PS.  There are at least 26 instances of the N-word used in the same fashion in Tom Sawyer.  Is that going to be cleaned up, too?

THE WORD FOR 'KANGAROO'



Engraving of an Australian kangaroo, after a painting by George Stubbs.



The first Australian word to enter the English language

While I have been remarkably silent of late, I don't have the pleasant excuse of having been on holiday.  I've been locating images for the beautifully illustrated edition of Tupaia that Random House New Zealand is launching in May -- and writing captions.  And one of those I found fascinating to research and write was the caption to an engraving of a kangaroo that I found as plate 20 in John Hawkesworth's Account of the Voyages ... (London, 1773, vol III.

‘Land animals are scarce’, declared Captain Cook in his description of the coast of Australia. Those in ‘the greatest plenty’ were ‘the Kangooroo, or Kanguru so call’d by the Natives; we saw a great many of them about Endeavour River, but kill’d only Three which we found very good eating’.   And so a word used by the Guugu Yimidhirr Aborigine tribe at the Endeavour River (in the state of Australia that is now known as Queensland) entered the English language.

Amusingly, it was the word for just one species of the animal, the large gray or black kangaroo.  As Tony Horwitz points out in his lively and informative biography of Cook, Blue Latitudes, if the Endeavours had asked about the small red kangaroo, the word that would have entered the language would have been 'nbarrgali' which does not trip nearly so smoothly off the tongue.  As it was, the vocabulary the officers of the First Fleet of convicts to New South Wales were given was that compiled at the Endeavour River, a totally different language to that used in the present site of Sydney.  'Kangaroo,' hollered the Englishmen, pointing at kangaroos, which the local Gweagal interpreted as any large four-footed animal.  So, whenever the officers pointed at any largish animal, including their own sheep, oxen, and horses, "Kangaroo!" the Gweagal cheerfully replied, much to English irritation. 

Anyway, back to Cook and the Endeavour. No one, apparently, thought of taking a live kangaroo to England — or even carrying one or two for eating along the way — but Joseph Banks did carry back two skins. One of these was inflated (probably over a rubber lining) to look as lifelike as possible, and Banks commissioned George Stubbs to paint the result, complete with an imaginative background.


The illustration engraved from this painting, published in Hawkesworth’s bestselling book, made the kangaroo a popular sensation. Scientists, puzzled by the concept of a pouched marsupial, and not knowing how to classify it, debated vigorously and at length. The public response was much more frivolous: a dance called the ‘kangaroo hop’ was invented, which took Europe by storm. Even the great Dr Samuel Johnson was intrigued enough to gather up his coat-tails, and entertain his friends by jumping like a kangaroo.

(For an interesting account of public interest in the Stubbs kangaroo, see, paper by Des Cowley and Brian Hubber, “Distinct Creation: Early European Images of Australian Animals’, in The La Trobe Journal (State Library of Victoria periodical), no. 66 (Spring 2000) pp. 3-32.)