Strangers by Rebecca Tamàs | Essays on the Human and Nonhuman | Book review

Strangers by Rebecca Tamàs first grabbed my attention when I saw it exhibited as part of The Nature Library at one of their locations in Glasgow. Our shared Hungarian background immediately obvious from her name, I was pleased to recognise a writer who, despite coming from my much-despised and begrudgingly admitted to birth country, creates and thinks in English. What's more, it was clear from a variety of aspects - the design of the book, the first few pages, the location where I was encountering it - that she wrote deeply, interestingly, informed. 

Strangers is a collection of essays, pleasingly formatted and designed throughout this short book, with a focus on the connection between human and nonhuman entites, the climate crisis, nature and existence. In a nutshell. (Naturally, from the very beginning of the book wakes a lurking feeling of guilt for having given up my vegetarianism.) But it is also a book that reaches further than its covers, inspiring thought without piling you with information. 

The first three essays in the book - On Watermelon, On Hospitality and On Pansychism - are very strong. They set the mind buzzing immediately.

On Hospitality, for example, discusses a novel, The Passion According to G.H. by Clarice Lispector, regarding an encounter between a human and a cockroach. 'What G.H. reaches in her experience with the cockroach is an understanding that human ideas of reason and progress are only casings around the unspeakable purposelessness of existence. ... Purposeless, but not pointless. Into this ambient purposelessness comes an understanding of our radical interdependence and intimacy with nonhuman forces; viscerally and urgently alive in a space of constant becoming.'

What is interesting about this recurring idea of the interdependence of human and nonhuman beings is that only one side is consciously aware of it, and this same side is consciously trying to suppress the other's existence. Is the bargain then equal? Or rather than trying to simply accept our interdependence with all living ('living' the key word) beings, should we also be aiming to become guardians, leaders for a positive coexistence? Or is that too 'blue sky'?

'Can anyone really deny that thought and thinking comes from the outside as well as the inside? That when the outside is terribly damaged, the inside will be also?'

Simple idea, yet reading On Pansychism, I feel the metal bands of my mind popping as they expand. The image of a lake driven insane, or the simple fact, presented plain and simple, that the world isn't just a bakcdrop to our lives: it is part of them, influences them, drives them. And yet, nonhuman beings exist on the outside of our infinite feedback loop. This idea reminds me of Robert Macfarlane's thoughts about the indifference of mountains to our struggle to climb them, similar to the river is quoted in this book, not as a metaphor to the author's feelings, but as an indifferent, cool entity - and it is that detachment that ultimately helps soothe the author's soul.

Then follow two essays which are more deeply art criticisms or analysis, introducing the artworks of Ana Mendieta and a poetry collection by Ariana Reines. The latter feels slightly weaker in that it gives less insight, I felt, into the work, but Mendieta's work, upon Googling, is hauntingly beautiful. An essay on climate grief versus climate despair quietly meditates on the difference. And the final essay, On Mystery, remains just that - it feels like reading a stream of consciousness, surprisingly well crafted nevertheless.

My copy of Strangers happened to be an uncorrected proof, which meant I had to contend with typos and guesses throughout - something that added to the strangeness, perhaps. It was a pleasure to come across a book that discusses unusual questions around the climate crisis, and offers a completely fresh perspective on human and nonhuman existence on Earth. Somehow this book manages to inspire without sounding the doom alarm too much, and it left me with fresh thoughts and feelings about my own role in changing the world a tiny bit.

I certainly look forward to reading more from Rebecca Tamàs.

For a boost, turn to Ellen Bailey

Because children's books deserve attention too (and also because I lucked out and won a copy on Twitter from Buster Books) (and also because it's a good book) I thought I'd write up a brief review of I am a Wonder Woman by Ellen Bailey.

Published to coincide with International Women’s Day on 8th March this year, I am a Wonder Woman is one empowering activity book. Following the insane boom of Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls that shook children's publishing across the globe, we are seeing more and more books aimed at the younger generation that heralds the successes of notable women throughout history - and from ancient Egyptian royalty through activists, artists and scientists, there are notes on an extremely wide variety of women, their lives and their achievements. If that wasn't enough fun for you, each person is paired with a follow-up activity that helps think further about these people's lives, areas of work and what they believe(d) in.

What did I like about it?

As I mention above, there is a good selection of women discussed in the book from all parts of the world and all parts of history. The language is accessible too - in fact, so accessible that I'm not sure what age the book is intended for. (Yes, I definitely filled out most of the activities already. So what?) It's not crowded with years of birth and death - instead it focuses on the message that these people were/are trying to get out into the world, and how they are doing it.

The activities are also wide-ranging and, I must say, inspirational. Most of them are writing exercises, including a lot of self-reflection and fantasy situations, which I remember absolutely adoring as a kid. Remember how we never used to care as kids who would be reading what we write, or whether anyone would be reading it at all? Good times.

But there are quirkier challenges too. For example, for Ada Lovelace, readers are encouraged to write a step-by-step guide on how to build a cheese sandwich, thereby getting us to think about how programming works. It's clever.

What was I not massively fond of?

There is a slight inconsistency in the amount of information shared on the women, and although I understand that this is mostly to avoid having a monotone design pattern, I still think some of them deserved more spotlight than what they got. I think there were perhaps cleverer ways of changing the pages around than cutting down on text.

Another thing that I noticed - and I apologise for picking at the details, because I do love the illustrations - is that all the women are drawn in white. I know it's an illustrative choice, and perhaps I'm even interpreting it wrong and it's meant to convey a positive message about how skin colour doesn't matter. But I think that, perhaps thinking with a child's mind, this might be a little bit confusing.

There, hard part out of the way.

Overall...

Would I get this for my daughter? Yes, definitely. Would I get it for my baby boy? Even more so.

This is not a feminist book. This is a history book. And it's awesome. The combo of knowledge and motivational exercises really hits home, and I do hope that many smart parents will be picking it up.


7/10