Each week, the Sunday Post highlights just a few things we loved reading and want to share with you. Settle in with a cup of coffee, or tea, if that's your pleasure — we saved you a seat! Read an essay or an article online that you loved? Let us know at submissions@seattlereviewofbooks.com. Need more browse? You can also look through the archives.
Consider Katherine Rundell, who quietly, brilliantly, and consistently delivers absolute delight in her "Consider the ..." column at the London Review of Books. This one examines the humble, generous, possibly Amelia-Earhart-devouring (!) hermit crab.
In 2007, researchers decided to test the Earhart theory. The carcass of a small pig was offered to the crabs on the island, to see what they might have done to Earhart’s dead or dying body. Following their remarkable sense of smell, they found the pig and tore it apart, making off with its bones to their burrows under the roots of the trees. Their strength is monumental: their claw grip can produce up to 3300 newtons of force (the bite force of a tiger is 1500 newtons). Darwin called them ‘monstrous’: he meant it as a compliment.
Not really a surprise, this one, but this should be read and heard. #metoo has faded from top billing, perhaps because it's now a constant current of our public discourse, perhaps because we have only so much patiences for the troubles of women. And it is easy to dismiss, in particular, the troubles of women who play up to traditional gender stereotypes as a profession.
But let's not. There is a literal "grab them by the pussy" moment in this article. As well as many other moments that should be boogeyman lore by now — but somehow aren't. This is not about sexy women. This is about predatory, sociopathic, and just plain incompetent men.
“I had spent all of my savings getting Victoria’s Secret lingerie to prepare for what I thought would be my audition,” a woman identified as Jane Doe said in a statement read aloud last summer in a federal court hearing in the Epstein case. “But instead it seemed like a casting call for prostitution. I felt like I was in hell.”
Raven Bookstore's Quoth the Raven newsletter is full of gently, warmly marvelous moments, and I (an unabashed lover of cats) have been hoarding this one to return to in times of need. Maybe, it occurred to me, some of the readers of the Seattle Review of Books might need it too? I give you: the lives of the Raven Bookstore cats.
Dashiell likes to sit on Register 2's keyboard in the colder months. We try to discourage this. I emerged from my office once to find him camped out on the keys and evicted him, lifting him off the keyboard to a chorus of meows. Waking the computer up, I saw an empty Word document with a single word typed into it: KILL.