By Melanie Challenger (2021)

The first few sentences of the book sum up Challenger’s argument beautifully, and my fascination with it:

“The world is now dominated by an animal that doesn’t think it’s an animal. And the future is being imagined by an animal that doesn’t want to be an animal. This matters.”

Before I begin, I must admit that I am still reading this book. Therefore, I am cheating and not running this imaginary book club very well. Nonetheless, I still have an emotional stake and a theoretical take which I intend to delight my imaginary readers with.

“Do you think you are an animal?”

What does it mean to be animal? What does animal actually mean? A simple internet search¹ breaks the definition down to mean:

• A living multicellular organisms in the biological kingdom Animalia,
• An animal as opposed to a human being,
• “A person without human attributes or civilizing influences, especially someone who is very cruel, violent, or repulsive”

This brings me to Challenger’s first sentence:

“The world is now dominated by an animal that doesn’t think it’s an animal.”

As a living multicellular organism that belongs to the kingdom of Animalia, as a human, I am an animal who is opposed to being an animal. Humans may not think themselves as animals, but we also don’t want to be animals. I know there are some exceptions to this generalisation (i.e. I quite like knowing I am an animal). But throughout her book, Challenger clearly breaks down the human and animal oppositional belief that is core to our (Western) cultural way of thinking.

The reason I write about it here is because this relationship (human and non-human) is key to my research. As how we think about the more-than-human world shapes our lifestyles, our decisions and how we engage with climate change, ecological crises and social justice.

“Are you superior to animals?”

From the teachings of religion that have told us humans have souls and animals don’t through to Darwin’s theory of evolution, there is a core belief that humans are different to and more than animals. This is because of the understanding that we have abilities that are more advanced than animals. Challenger begins the book with the quote from Darwin below (I have read more than the first page!),

“Man with all his noble qualities, with sympathy which feels for the most debased, with benevolence which extends not only to other men but to the humblest living creature, with his god-like intellect which has penetrated into the movements and constitution of the solar system – with all these exalted powers – Man still bears in his bodily frame the indelible stamp of his lowly origin. “

Charles Darwin

Darwin’s theories challenged religious beliefs by suggesting that (hu)man came from the same “lowly origin” as the rest of the animal kingdom. Most likely some single-celled bacteria-like creature somewhere. Darwin, therefore, argued against the religious creation story. However, his theories do not disprove the religious dualism of human and animal. Instead it introduces a new secular way to justify it: the separation of human’s “noble” cognitive qualities – “our god-like intellect” – from our “bodily frame”, which is the unfortunate “inedible stamp” of our low animal origins.

Challenger explains our ability to contemplate our emotions and physical reactions theoretically validates the separation of our rational minds from our bodies. It is our bodies and their irritating irrational emotions that are characterised as “animal”. This cognitive solution to dualism, as Challenger refers to it, maintains a hierarchal way of thinking that enables the idea of human exceptionalism, that humans are superior to animal due to their noble intellectual capabilities.

“Does this matter?”

“And the future is being imagined by an animal that doesn’t want to be an animal. This matters.”

Yes, is my simple answer.

Challenger describes how dualism between humans and the more-than-human world reflects the binary relationship we have with our bodies – the human rational mind and lowly animal bodies. She goes on to explain that these beliefs may have severe consequences. If we as a species base our worth on our mental capabilities, we risk creating a worth or value based hierarchal system within society. This could causes the very moral problem Challenger refers to as our paradoxical fear of being animal.

Here I the definition the delights of the internet supplied me with above when searching for ‘animal’:

“A person without human attributes or civilizing influences, especially someone who is very cruel, violent, or repulsive”

Our (Western) society has traditionally functioned according to a hierarchy where humans intelligence or cognitive attributes are placed above bodily qualities. In this social hierarchy, we value rational intelligence as most important as it is least reliant on methods of knowledge that may be more closely linked to our body, emotions and the more-than-human world. Those at the top are therefore more human than other persons, who are consequently more animal. Thus the higher ranking humans are ‘justified’ in their superiority, not only over the more-than-human world but over other humans.

If these humans are higher and more ‘perfect’, as they are less like the flawed animals they came from, there is a risk that a system of worth is created. Higher humans, higher value. A superiority system that objectifies and dehumanises others, justifying their exploitation due to their perceived lesser cognitive capabilities and resultant lesser societal value. This system is used as it justifies discriminatory and exploitative practices, allowing humans to distance themselves from the moral and ethical problems entwined with these abusive behaviours.

Within the complex wicked problem that entangles the issues of social justice with the impacts of climate change and the ecological crises, I answer with certainty: yes. It definitely matters whether we think we are animals are not.

Why does this book club matter for my research?

When researching and creating stories that inspire transformative change, there is a need to address the ideas at the core of the tales we already tell. If these new stories are built on the societal beliefs that are used to justify exploitative and discriminatory practices, they will simply replicate and reconstruct them. Therefore, we need to start looking at ways of staying with the trouble and not distancing ourselves from the entangled wicked problems, while living-with the more than human world².

The questions I pose my imaginary audience are:

1. Do you think you are an animal?
2. Are you superior to animals?
3. Does this matter?

Find the book here: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/606910/how-to-be-animal-by-melanie-challenger/

I hope you have enjoyed my imaginary book club series. I definitely have, despite it being imaginary. I hope it has given you food for thought and if you want to share your responses to any of these questions, get in touch!

Writers note:

1. As defined by the Oxford Languages dictionary. ︎
2. Please read Haraway’s (2016) “Staying With The Trouble”  https://read.dukeupress.edu/books/book/27/Staying-with-the-TroubleMaking-Kin-in-the ︎ ︎

Book cover: Challenger, M. (2021). How to Be Animal. A New History of What It Means to Be Human. UK: Penguin Books.

By Sabrina Imbler (2022)

I actually don’t want to say too much about this book.

But I will say this. I found the journey of reading it beautiful, moving and difficult. Imbler interweaves their lived experiences in with the lives of underwater animals with such care and respect, that it does not feel anthropomorphic. With each essay, I was very aware that I was experiencing their interpretation of these animals’ lives. Rather than being told what these animals were feeling or thinking. As such, it was both educational and magical. It felt more like embodied surrealist art rather than science communication. An experience that was so real, so present and material, yet I was in my body recalling my life experiences not putting myself in their shoes or these animal’s (metaphorical) shoes. It took me on an emotional and personal journey of healing in the company of these more-than-human beings.

This is why I want to include this book in this imaginary book club and not talk too much about it. It is the closest I have ever felt to being-with the author and the more-than-human world without actually being outside in nature. I was always aware that I was being guided through an interpretation, that was not my own. I did not feel like I was being told that these animals feel human emotions, but that this way of assembling stories gave Imbler permission to explore their history, their body, their identity, by learning about the beauty of sea creatures. In turn, I felt I had permission to relive my own experiences. This gave me a deep seated compassion for both Imbler and these creatures. Yes I learnt more about these animals, but what I took away was knowledge of our combined need to adapt, survive and care for each other¹.

I am not going to tell you to read this book as I did with the others. It is your choice. For me, it is a difficult journey, but one I will never forget. You can find the book here: https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/441955/my-life-in-sea-creatures-by-imbler-sabrina/9781784743956

But you can also listen Imbler’s reading of one of the essays here: https://open.spotify.com/episode/5kwY6ooHFKkA4rKdjjWGWF?si=lwMG63hXSQihg3hM1e_xVw

Sabrina Imbler, I know you and most likely no one else will read this blog. But here is my opportunity to say thank you. Through hearing your voice I think I heard my own.

To have a voice is a right. To use it is a choice. To speak out is a risk. To speak for the survival of others, that is our shared responsibility.

Footnotes:

1. Taken from the book blurb: https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/441955/my-life-in-sea-creatures-by-imbler-sabrina/9781784743956#:~:text=adapt%2C%20survive%20and%20care%20for%20each%20other. ︎

Book cover: Imbler, S. (2022). My Life In Sea Creatures. USA: Penguin.

By Lucy Cooke (2023)

I still can’t get over the feeling that I am cheating if I audiobook something rather than reading it. I audiobooked it twice if that makes it count more?

Looking through my notes and bookmarks, there is key theme. These words come up a lot:

• Bias – such as Conformation bias
• Binary
• Polarisation
• Assumption
• Expectation
• Preconception

Deeply rooted in science and thoroughly researched, Bitch ripped apart my outdated beliefs of bodies and behaviours in the animal (non-human) world. Like with her last book The Unexpected Truth About Animals, I was shocked at how my understanding of the more-than-human world was still built upon an old fashioned scientific system. This is despite my active research into fields of ecofeminism and queer ecology as part of my PhD. Honestly, sometimes these realisations left me a little ashamed. I recognised I didn’t always apply the same inclusive approaches to the non-human as I did to humans. It did leave me curious, nonetheless, to reflect on and disassemble my own scientific assumptions of the more-than-human world.

Cooke’s performative reading really brought this book to life (I always recommend an audiobook!). But it was the context and detail she provided her arguments with that I found most impressive. It is very easy, for me at least, to feel anger or blame towards those who crafted or knowingly practice these scientific binary systems. Particularly, those who project these polarising systems and expectations onto others for their own gain. Cooke explains how these systems have been built into our (Western) cultural knowledge and educational models and how they have worked to supress groups in society – such as Cooke’s tales of talented female scientists. So it is easy and I could argue irresponsible of me to jump to blame, rather than ask myself the more difficult question of how I might support or express these exclusive and restrictive binaries in my research and practice.

These traditional scientific expectations don’t only impact humans, whether they be scientists, school pupils or audiences of Natural History documentaries. But they also shape the way we understand and (physically and emotionally) relate with the more-than-human world. Cooke’s accounts of historic biological studies, such as those of bird mating rituals, paint a clear picture that the females of species were seen as the weaker sex. Whereas the males, who were more beautiful and fought for the females attention, were positioned by scientists at the top of the evolutionary hierarchy as they were more powerful and ruled their roosts in patriarchal systems. Please read the book for a much better telling! Cooke’s examples demonstrate the role that confirmation bias has played historically in developing our understanding of biological science. They clearly show how experiments and analysis were swayed (and not always on purpose!) as scientists tried to discover new knowledge that complimented the scientific existing systems and that would get them recognised in their fields.

I found it a little scientifically complex at times. This maybe because I was listening to it and needed to see it in front of me, to read and understand the complexity of the genetic make up of the plethora of species Cooke discusses. Or maybe my biology and chemistry knowledge is not up to scratch! Nevertheless, I am aware this complexity may make the book harder for some to understand and as a result less accessible to lay audiences. But it does make a point through its scientific detail: bodies, gender, sex, behaviour, biology and even non-human politics is complicated! Let alone the convoluted human scientific systems that try to capture them in their objective scientific experiments. There are so many factors – biological, behavioural, environmental… that affect the web of ecology that these animals exist in. It is hard (arguably verging on impossible) to pull one animal out of their habitats and state they exist in one clearly defined state.

Yes this makes it hard (again verging on impossible) for storytellers, like those in Natural History documentaries or teachers, to convey the complexity of factors that shape the diverse and changeable ecosystems. Especially now that climate change and the environmental crises are rapidly changing everything! I can’t imagine how tricky it would be to write it into a concise textbook! How would you capture the detail and context? But maybe I am missing the point. Surely it is this complexity that makes it beautiful and rather interesting in the first place? Maybe that’s just me, with my mild obsession about learning to live-with the messy entangled web of life at this time of global crises (again I highly recommend Haraway’s 2016 Staying with the Trouble).

So the questions I leave my book club with today are:

1. Which story impacted you the most and why? Were any of your personal beliefs challenged?
2. What binaries, assumptions and expectations can you identify within our cultures scientific knowledge? And how might our scientific understanding promote or limit certain groups?
3. How could a new understanding of evolutionary biology shape our relationship with the more-than-human world? And how might this affect how we engage with the global crises?

Maybe, my main take away from this book is a reflection on my emotional journey through anger, blame and shame to one of excitement, wonder and curiosity. And maybe its just an increased appreciation for how truly complex the more-than-human world is. What I do know is that I have lots of knowledge gaps where context and detail is missing, which has limited my ability to be critical of my own beliefs. Therefore, I would like to think I have more awareness of my own biases thanks to Cooke. Or at least I am more aware that I need to be more critical of my own beliefs, binaries and biases, as they may unintentionally support traditional polarising systems that empower some while supressing others. This critical reflection is not only important in my research, but is something that I must practice in my daily life as well.

I hope this book gets your brain ticking as much as it did mine. And good luck if you too face some hard questions. If I had any advice, it would be sit with the hard ones and let them stick. My other advice would be to give the book a go!

Find the book here: https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/433914/bitch-by-cooke-lucy/9781804990919

Go now! Read it! And let me know what you think.

Writer note:

Book cover: Cooke, L. (2023). Bitch. A revolutionary guide to sex, evolution & the female animal. United Kingdom: Penguin.

By Lucy Cooke (2018)

I was addicted to this book when it first came out. I remember reading it on the bus and quickly flicking past the honest photo of hyenas, nervous the child behind me was looking over my shoulder. As for those of you who don’t know, female hyenas have pseudo-penises. The alpha-female also rules their matriarchal clans. Female spotted hyenas are fierce, clever and really rather gorgeous!

The book blew my mind. I quickly realised that these animals’ lives didn’t fit into the tidy boxes that my school education had instilled in me. More so, I wondered why all the educational documentaries I had watched (and worked on) had never told these stories. Cooke did used to work in TV after all. I quickly became aware that what I thought to be “nature” was a very well crafted PG-13 rated story. A bit like the Disney-fied version of reality. The story of pristine and human-less wildernesses seemed separate from and different to human me. But everything I read broke down the protective barriers around what I thought nature was, with a sledge hammer. As in the book, nature seemed to end up being everything I thought it definitely was not.

Yes, the book is designed to be entertaining and Cooke crafts her chapters in ways that trigger shock and make you laugh. But it really was a personally revealing read, as I began to question my reactions – why was I so shocked? Why did these stories differ so much from what I expected? It made me curious about how else my understanding of nature might be limited. And how I might the well crafted story I had previously believed to be true affect how I value the natural world. And why on earth did I believe this more boring version of reality in the first place? Who crafted the story of what nature was before it was sewn into my school’s GCSE textbooks?

Now that I knew female sloths deposited little spiral poos underneath their tree to leave a scent trail for potential males, I went off and did a lot of my own research. I spent hours at the Natural History Museum quizzing poor PhD students on the bullying eusocial antics of the female queen naked mole rats. I went to London Zoo’s valentines day special to end up watching a VR headset demo of the VFX inside of a duck’s oviducts. Falling a little off track.

The book started my journey down a long path where I began “queering” nature. I questioned what stories I was told by society, what stereotypes about gender and sexuality these stories projected and how they influenced my relationship with the “natural world”. I wanted to know what boxes and binaries I believed in and whether they had any effect of how I was physically able to experience nature. Apart from the fact that I started quoting this book at everyone I met, definitely not to the child on the bus, learning these new facts made nature feel more “human”, or maybe the other way around – it made me feel less human and part of something wider and much more complicated.

This book encourages the reader to question their beliefs and expectations. It challenges us (humans) to explore our perceived differences and separation from nature. It also encouraged me to change one word in this sentence: human vs nature TO human with nature. How does the second one feel to you?

So the questions I leave my imaginary book club with are:

1. How did you react when reading the book? And did your reactions challenge what you think of as nature?
2. How do you now define nature? And where do humans fit in?
3. Does it matter if the stories society tell us about the natural world hide certain facts?
4. And, how much do you love sloths?

Finally, to link in with my PhD research, I leave you with one final question: what impact do these cultural stories about the natural world have on how we engage with climate, environmental and social justice?

Find the book here: https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/433913/the-unexpected-truth-about-animals-by-lucy-cooke/9781784161903

Or in any good library!

Enjoy!

Writer note:

Book cover: Cooke, L. (2018). The Unexpected Truth about Animals: Stoned Sloths, Lovelorn Hippos and Other Wild Tales. United Kingdom: Black Swan.

In this themed ‘strand’ of imaginary book club meetings, I will focus on: Queer Ecology. And I will post a series of entries with my reaction to different books that would read with this “club” (or alone).

But what does it all mean?

“But what is queer ecology?” I hear my even more imaginary audience of me, myself and I ask.

The term queer was reclaimed in the 80s by the LGBTQIA+ community after a long and complex history. The term rejects labels and perceived norms or identities that are created and projected by culture¹. It is often used as an umbrella term, or container, that interweaves many diverse sexualities, identities and forms of expression. As such, it refuses to live inside a pre-prescribed box and takes many meanings and shapes for different people².

This links nicely into “queer theory” which emerged in the 90s as a field of post-structuralist critical-theory³. This field of study critiques the structures and power dynamics within society that influence and shape the definitions of gender and sexuality⁴.

“But why is this important?” My imaginary audience questions impatiently.

I find queer ecology very exciting. It pushes the boundaries of society’s definition, understanding and relationship with nature. Have you ever asked yourself?

1. What do I mean when I talk about “nature”?
2. What is “unnatural”?
3. Where does “human” fit in with my idea of “nature”?

I often start my workshops by asking a these questions, in some form or another, and it might be how I start the book club. In everyday conversations, we often speak about nature as a specific place or object that is different to humans. Resultantly, our language often creates a human/nature divide. There are many binaries we use in language that can shape what we see as natural/unnatural and how we experience nature. This notion of what is and what is not nature affects how we experience and relate with the natural world.

And that is why it links so closely to my research! As I am slowly pulling apart layers to help understand how we experience and relate to the nature in Natural History documentaries. For example, I may perceive the “nature” in Natural History documentaries to be more pristine and wild than the weeds growing between the paving slabs outside my front door. I may call on screen nature “wilderness” and the other nature irritating. Or, in politics and economics nature is often referred to as an object or a resource that humans have the right to use for their personal needs and entertainment. Trees exist for the purpose of their wood, so that I can fulfil my need for a new desk. The nature reserve’s purpose is for me to spend time and walk through without seeing any urban or human development, giving me a sense of nature connectedness.

“So what?”

The reason I break this down in quite so much detail is because the concept of queer ecology, similar to its use by the LGBTQIA+ community, aims to break down culture’s normalised understandings of the nature world. What if nature didn’t have a purpose? What if we (humans) were not separate to but exist with nature?

Queer ecology, therefore, uncages the concept of nature and what is natural (setting it free!). While it is built upon the intersectional roots of ecofeminism and other feminist science studies, queer ecology encourages us, well me and some others, to explore diverse ideas and to reimagine other ways of living-with “the more-than-human world”⁵. Please read Staying with the Trouble by Donna Haraway (2016)⁶ in an adjacent book club to better understand why I use “living-with”, but that is not the focus on this imaginary meeting.

There is a lot more to the fascinating concept of queer ecology, especially why it is relevant in a time of climate and ecological crises, which is why it tightly intertwines with my PhD research in looking at how Natural History documentaries communicate the global climate, ecological and social injustice crises. I greatly encourage you to take a deeper dive into the topic if it interests you (or even if it doesn’t!).⁷

Finished with the lecture

Anyway. Books!

Here are some of the books that I plan on discussing:

1. The Unexpected Truth About Animals. Stoned Sloths, Lovelorn Hippos and Other Wild Tales. Lucy Cooke (2018)
2. Bitch. What does it mean to be female? Lucy Cooke (2023)
3. My Life in Sea Creatures. A young queer science writer’s reflections on identity and the ocean. Sabrina Imbler (2022)
4. How to Be Animal. A New History of What It Means to Be Human. Melanie Challenger (2021)

This list is not very extensive! But my book club does not last for ever. And there are many other books on my to read list. Including: Evolution’s Rainbow: Diversity, Gender, and Sexuality in Nature and People, by Joan Roughgarden (2013). I love to get people’s recommendations too, so please do send through if you have any thoughts!

I am still learning about queer ecology, and the many surrounding fields it has grown from, so some of my interpretations are most likely wrong or limited. So I really do recommend that you go and explore it if this has peaked your interests. I wish you a mind boggling experience!

Footnotes:

1. Defined by Stonewall here: https://www.stonewall.org.uk/list-lgbtq-terms#:~:text=Q-,Queer,-Queer%20is%20a ︎
2. For a more detailed history and explanation of queer please see here: https://new.lgbtqia.wiki/wiki/Queer ︎
3. Post-structuralism is a philosophical movement that disregards the “structuralist” idea, that we can understand and interpret the world through pre-established socially constructed ideas or language: https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/social-sciences/post-structuralism ︎
4. A more thorough explanation with useful book suggestions are linked here: https://libraryguides.fullerton.edu/c.php?g=1134908&p=8436083 ︎
5. Intrigued by queer nature? Have a browse here: https://www.britishecologicalsociety.org/introducing-queer-ecology-embracing-diversity-in-the-natural-world/ ︎
6. Must read! https://read.dukeupress.edu/books/book/27/Staying-with-the-TroubleMaking-Kin-in-the ︎
7. Deeper dive https://www.climateculture.earth/5-minute-reads/what-is-queer-ecology ︎

Header photo by Brielle French on Unsplash

For media professionals:

• Heard
• albert
• Julie’s Bicycle – BFI Sustainable Screen Hub

For filmmakers (impact focused):

• The Impact Field Guide and Toolkit
• CEF Impact Media Research

For charities and campaigns:

• Common Cause Foundation
• PIRC
• Narrative Initiative
• Frameworks Institute

For researchers and academics:

• Climate Outreach
• UCL Climate Action Unit

I want to note, that these toolkits are not perfect or for everyone.

Some argue that they are limiting, providing boundaries for you to be creative within. Whereas others state that they are subjective as what they tell you to do may not work for all of your audiences. This criticism is valid and important to think about when looking at these resources, as there is no such thing as a holy grail for communication. None the less, they also can provide a good starting place for storytellers and communications who want to provide more climate justice aware messaging.

So good luck in using them and I hope you find this resource a useful starting point! Know that it in itself is biased in what I have come across and have found useful. Please do feedback if you have any recommendations or feedback on the contact page as I still have lots to learn!