The Zookeepers Wife by Diane Ackerman

Anyone who has read The Natural History of the Senses knows that Diane Ackerman has a magical way of describing senses and the natural world. I first read this work more than 10 years ago and it has stuck with me for a long time.

I was drawn to The Zookeeper's Wife when I saw that it was Ackerman telling the story. She does not dissappoint. She writes a non-fiction account of Jan and Antonina Zabinski, a Polish couple who run the Warsaw Zoo. When the Third Reich invades Warsaw and begins dismantling life for Poles and Jews, Jan and Antonina use their once beautiful zoo to help hundreds of Jews escape Warsaw and thier inevitable fate during the Holocaust.

Ackerman bases this beautiful book on Antonina's diaries and fills in the blanks with meticulous research about Warsaw, the Jewish ghetto and the world of Zoo's at the middle of the 20th century.

What arises is a beautiful tale of one couple's heroic acts in the middle of a strange otherwordly paradise which they created in the middle of a surreal kind of hell.

Ackerman not only tells thier tale but helps us understand what exactly they were up against during the war. She paints a vivid picture of Warsaw and the Poles resistance to Hitler and the Gestapo.

Jan Zabinski after the war was commemorated Righteous Among the Nations.

Speaking of the Shoe Muse

here is a poem I wrote in my Wednesday writing class. Susan read it aloud during class and I kind of liked it. Here it is:

You don’t know what came over you
when you saw those sparkling red pumps--
Candy-apple red, three inch spiked heels,
shinier than the ruby slippers,
narrower than a ballet shoe.

A deep longing sprang up from somewhere
you could not remember.
Your size 11 feet always gave you
lessons in humility, never grace.

The desire ran so deep and so thick
that now your dreams are filled with red shoes,
And the muse whispers “shoes”
on her weekend nights off.

Imagine, as I know you will,
picking up prescriptions and
dropping off dry cleaning, and you suddenly
see something shine in a store window
and remember what you cannot have:

The taut muscular stomach of a pretty boy you once knew
The feel of a baby sucking at your breast
The ability to dance high on tip-toe,
a slender hipbone jutting out
above the waistband of your jeans

All your longing seems focused on lightness
On being no denser than a piece of fine silk
On floating somehow, impossibly, on a cloud
or being dangled by fine wires as you pretend to
fly across a stage on extended calf muscles.
All your longing points you at smallness,
Points you at bright high heeled sparkly shoes
That all size sevens wear.

Birthday books

I celebrated my birthday this week.(They say 43 is the new 23!) I received some very beautiful and thoughtful gifts from my friends and husband. Steph gave a donation to Heifer International in my name. Kim (aka sweetcakes) made me a lovely chicken tea cozy. My husband gave me a DVD I had been wanting to watch. Also flowers, a picture and frame of some friends, a button box and some lovely cards. It was a very nice day.




I usually treat myself to books since those are some of my favorite things to shop for. I picked out a current memoir called: Beautiful Boy by David Sheff. A book of short stories by Elizabeth Berg. Another memoir by autistic animal behaviorist Temple Grandin called Animals in Translation and finally another memoir by surgeon Atul Gawande called Better. I hope to be recommending another book of the week very soon.



I do love memoirs and so far Beautiful Boy is promising to be very compelling. I did end up taking back a book. It looked funny, but after I read a chapter I decided it was vapid and lacking all meaning and the funny could not make up for the sick feeling I felt when I read it. So, I won't even tell you what it was called lest you waste your money on it. Lets not give this writer her due.

Off the Deep End by W. Hodding Carter

Lately memoirs take on this form: find something outrageous and nearly impossible (but not totally impossible) to do. Do it. Write about how hard it was to do it. I have read memoirs of families who gave up buying everything except basic necessities for one year, gave up using electricity for a year, gave up buying anything made in China for a year, read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica, walked across the country, and cooked all the recipes from Julia Child’s The Art of French Cooking over the course of one year.

Hodding Carter has the latest entry into the memoir-turns-daring-do saga, he is going to train for and compete in swimming at the 2008 summer Olympics at age 45. The advanced copy I read does not include the final chapter which will relate his encounter at the Olympic swimming trials. I can’t really say if the final chapter would have made a difference in how I feel about his story.

For much of the book I really did not like Mr. Carter. He struck me as a 43 year old frat boy who was having a hard time accepting middle age. The fact that he kept admitting his frat boy tendencies did nothing to endear me to him. The technical aspects of swimming were not interesting for me—they may be for seasoned swimmers—and a lot of the book seemed bogged down by details of stroke and times and races. It was hard to get through. There were a few interesting adventures most notably his swimming from island to island in the Caribbean in a sort of swimming trek adventure and also his relay swim around Manhattan Island. Even during these adventures he seemed like a puffed up school boy. The kind I mostly try to avoid.

Just the same, being about 45 myself, I hope he is able to make the Olympics. I will watch for him, and I will pick up the book when it is out to see if I can find out his fate at the trials. I will also send this book to an old friend who is an avid swimmer. Perhaps she will understand some of the swimming-speak and relate to him a bit more. ( )

What the Frak is Going on?

This is a cool video of my new favorite TV show. Battlestar Galactica Rules. Who knew I was a Sci-Fi Geek?

What Shamu Taught me About Life Love and Marriage

Amy Sutherland was a journalist who decided to write a book about animal training. She went to one of the only animal training schools in the country. She wrote a book about it called: Kicked, Bitten and Scratched: Life Lessons at the World's Premier School for Animal Trainers which I understand is an excellent book. She also wrote a tiny little article for the NY Times about using animal training techniques on her husband and friends and found the way to instant fame. Her article for the NYT was the most emailed article in 2006. Check it out.

This book is a longer length work based on the article. A lot of the information is intuitive, but when put in the perspective of training people, it sheds a whole new light on human relationships. One letter to the editor in the Times reminds readers that Sutherland did not really change her husband, she changed how she acted and reacted to her husband which in turn prompted new and better responses from him. This is a fascinating book, and my husband doesn't know it but I have started "shamuing" him. If you don't have time to read the book, at least read the article. People are, afterall, animals too.

Tea Party

I realize that tea parties are off topic for this blog. Since I have met and gotten to know Steph and Sweetcakes, I have taken an interest in the elegant and charming and relaxing practice of afternoon tea.

My sister-in-law and I treated our mother-in-law and her friend to afternoon tea at the Orchid Room at the Hilton Netherland Hotel in Cincinnati. Of all the tea houses and tea rooms I have been to with Steph and Sweetcakes, this is probably the best. I can't wait to take them there.

Simple but time tested loose leaf teas were on the menu:





An individual plate of savories for each guest. Note to tea party goers: If you are a vegetarian order the vegetarian option in advance.




A huge assortment of breads, scones and pastries. This was more than all of us could eat.



An added bonus was that our server Michael knew tea well and presented all of our food and tea with a flourish. Here he is showing a member of our party one plate of the breads and scones: