The most recommended books on taxidermy

After reading Life of Pi many years ago (before the movie came out) I never found myself reading another Yann Martel book, which is strange as I loved the Life of Pi so much.

Back in March of this year I stumbled across a copy of Beatrice and Virgil in an old bookshop in Paris, and was instantly drawn to it, not only from the author's name, but the blurb intrigued me terribly.

Yann Martel has this brilliant way of turning a story that can often seem random and unusual, into something you simply have to know what is going to happen next. Typically, I am a slow reader, but with this I just couldn’t put it down. 

I love this novel because it mixes Southern Gothic with speculative fiction in a hilarious epic struggle between man and hog. When middle-aged taxidermist Romie Futch becomes a research subject in the shady Center for Cybernetic Neuroscience, he becomes both super genius and guinea pig, his middle-aged brain now brilliant beyond comprehension. Troubled by errant downloads that track his thoughts and actions, Romie turns taxidermy into pop art as he hunts down the legendary super pig “Hogzilla.” This is the funniest, wittiest book I’ve read in a long time. 

This is the first book where I read about experiences of childhood illness similar to my own. Reading it was both shocking and deeply cathartic in a way that felt almost dangerous. It is also a cold hard look at class, age, and intergenerational trauma in relation to health and healthcare in the US. It exists in its own category in my mind. All I can say is read it, just not on a bad pain day. 

An obscure and fantastic book, Eléphasme, Rhinolophon, Caméluche et autres merveilles de la nature is a collection of illustrations of imagined beasts. From toads with feathery axolotl gills and seabirds with a probosci's monkey snout to a hairy chicken with hooves, these animals don’t make any sense, but they sure are beautiful to look at.

I stumbled on it back in 2012, during my first trip to Paris, visiting a singular shop called Deyrolle, which is filled with taxidermy, bones, bugs, and other curiosities. This book might be one of the most special things I own, and it’s almost impossible to find outside of France. For those who are determined to track it down, I can assure you, it’ll be worth it.

There are a lot of books about Florida that are bad or shallowly written, but these days, some real writers are setting their books in the Sunshine State. Kristen Arnett, a Florida resident, uses the backdrop of a failing taxidermy business to write about a crazy family and an odd Central Florida town. 

As a fourth-generation Floridian, I found the book true to life and extremely funny. That’s quite an accomplishment.

Like all of his work, this book is laugh-out-loud funny. The situations that David Sedaris gets himself into and his oh-so-human responses connect on such a profound level.

So often, it feels like we are the only ones having such petty and self-centered perceptions. It is liberating to know that this is just the human experience.

It is also liberating to reflect on how I feel toward David reading about his life. I don’t judge him negatively or think less of him for his honesty and openness. The opposite is true. This is something I find comforting myself as someone who talks about my past and being a convicted murderer and drug addict. 

This book is a great summer read. The relationship between young eventer Rio and her project horse is really special and the author does a good job of introducing us to this fun, quirky family, their many pets, and their dilapidated country house. The descriptions of the French countryside and the differences in how horses are cared for in France were really interesting. It is a fun, captivating read.

I love what Young is doing—breaking out of her “college prof” shell and talking directly to us about her life with animals—dead and alive. She starts with her dog Frankie’s cancer diagnosis and wraps her own reactions to his treatments into her study of 19th-century fiction that focuses on animals—like the famous horse narrative Black Beauty and the equally-famous-but-now-forgotten dog narrative Beautiful Joe. Her travels take her through both physical and imaginative time and place—from Beautiful Joe’s origins in Nova Scotia to her meditations on the art of animal taxidermy. I learned a lot about the history of animal/human relations from this book, and I really enjoyed Young’s voice and puns. It’s a great addition to our goal to bring academic knowledge out into the public sphere. 

I remember my first encounter with African wildlife. I was standing in front of a museum diorama, facing a lion standing full height, its glass eyes gleaming. These displays were crafted so carefully, the animals posed so perfectly, the backgrounds painted so realistically. But who turned these dead animals into works of art? This book describes the life of the man who traveled the world to find and preserve the best specimens. Carl Akeley’s journey is both gruesome and fascinating.