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pineislandThis is my second post about The Secret History of Bigfoot: In Search of an American Monster but I guess you could read the annotations in either order.
Honestly? The Secret History of Bigfoot: In Search of an American Monster is going to end up on my [print edition] nonfiction bookshelf next to Holy Sh*t: A Brief History of Swearing and Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures. Unlike Holy Sh*t, which made me want to read more nonfiction, or Entangled Life which made me (someone who has never smoked a cigarette or drank a beer) want to drop acid, The Secret History of Bigfoot didn't make me want to go Bigfooting… but it has been a constant and friendly companion through the (extraordinarily stressful) past couple weeks of my life, the [metaphorical] voice of John O'Connor there to comfort me at the end of a long day or while trying to convince myself to get out from under the covers in the morning. [I was reading the digital edition, not the audiobook… which is narrated by Matt Godfrey, anyway - not the author, John O'Connor.]
Sometimes, the book was a gut punch: 90% of North American bats have died of white-nose syndrome in the last decade? I literally cried out in pain, remembering a sky full of bats somewhere with my dad - probably a campground one elementary school summer. (He died before I started high school and we stopped camping when he got sick, so there weren't any other bat filled summer nights but the elementary school ones.)
… but mostly I laughed. I laughed a lot. Out loud, alone with my cat in my bedroom. I giggled; I chortled; I even howled once or twice, wiping tears of glee from my eyes.
I'm not an outdoorsman. My favorite place to go hiking is Tokyo's Shitamachi area. I mean, have you seen some of the staircases in the Ueno-Yanaka-Kanda triangle? Brutal. I'll never forget pushing my bike up one of those hills, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf, only for a little old lady to zip past me on her mamachari like it was all downhill from here. That's the closest I'll ever get to hiking a mountain… but I really loved O'Connor's descriptions of vistas and views, his depth of research, and his respect for the Indigenous people on whose lands mostly white folks go searching for a monster that might or might not be inspired by Native beliefs; he always reaches out to Native researchers and elders in the areas where he writes about white Bigfooters Bigfooting and he isn't offended when he is rebuffed or ignored.
… anyway, if your job sucks and you feel like shit but you like reading funny and/or well researched nonfiction, you should read The Secret History of Bigfoot: In Search of an American Monster.
I almost skipped this episode of "American Hysteria" where I heard about the book because I'm really 0% interested in cryptids but I'm glad I listened and I'm glad I got the book from the library. Thanks again, Montgomery County Public Library, for letting me keep my card!
Honestly? The Secret History of Bigfoot: In Search of an American Monster is going to end up on my [print edition] nonfiction bookshelf next to Holy Sh*t: A Brief History of Swearing and Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures. Unlike Holy Sh*t, which made me want to read more nonfiction, or Entangled Life which made me (someone who has never smoked a cigarette or drank a beer) want to drop acid, The Secret History of Bigfoot didn't make me want to go Bigfooting… but it has been a constant and friendly companion through the (extraordinarily stressful) past couple weeks of my life, the [metaphorical] voice of John O'Connor there to comfort me at the end of a long day or while trying to convince myself to get out from under the covers in the morning. [I was reading the digital edition, not the audiobook… which is narrated by Matt Godfrey, anyway - not the author, John O'Connor.]
Sometimes, the book was a gut punch: 90% of North American bats have died of white-nose syndrome in the last decade? I literally cried out in pain, remembering a sky full of bats somewhere with my dad - probably a campground one elementary school summer. (He died before I started high school and we stopped camping when he got sick, so there weren't any other bat filled summer nights but the elementary school ones.)
… but mostly I laughed. I laughed a lot. Out loud, alone with my cat in my bedroom. I giggled; I chortled; I even howled once or twice, wiping tears of glee from my eyes.
Bobo, if you're reading this, sorry man.I had a terrible day today, literally puking sick from stress… but when I woke up from my sick day nap, there was O'Connor with a funny story about accidentally peeing on the winter sleeping bag loaned to him by a famous Bigfooter.
I'm not an outdoorsman. My favorite place to go hiking is Tokyo's Shitamachi area. I mean, have you seen some of the staircases in the Ueno-Yanaka-Kanda triangle? Brutal. I'll never forget pushing my bike up one of those hills, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf, only for a little old lady to zip past me on her mamachari like it was all downhill from here. That's the closest I'll ever get to hiking a mountain… but I really loved O'Connor's descriptions of vistas and views, his depth of research, and his respect for the Indigenous people on whose lands mostly white folks go searching for a monster that might or might not be inspired by Native beliefs; he always reaches out to Native researchers and elders in the areas where he writes about white Bigfooters Bigfooting and he isn't offended when he is rebuffed or ignored.
… anyway, if your job sucks and you feel like shit but you like reading funny and/or well researched nonfiction, you should read The Secret History of Bigfoot: In Search of an American Monster.
I almost skipped this episode of "American Hysteria" where I heard about the book because I'm really 0% interested in cryptids but I'm glad I listened and I'm glad I got the book from the library. Thanks again, Montgomery County Public Library, for letting me keep my card!
