Product Description

The beasts that have always ruled our jungles and our nightmares are dying. What will become of us without them?

For millennia, lions, tigers, and their man-eating kin have kept our dark, scary forests dark and scary, and their predatory majesty has been the stuff of folklore. But by the year 2150 big predators may only exist on the other side of glass barriers and chain-link fences. Their gradual disappearance is changing the very nature of our existence. We no longer occupy an intermediate position on the food chain; instead we survey it invulnerably from above—so far above that we are in danger of forgetting that we even belong to an ecosystem.

Casting his expert eye over the rapidly diminishing areas of wilderness where predators still reign, the award-winning author of The Song of the Dodo examines the fate of lions in India's Gir forest, of saltwater crocodiles in northern Australia, of brown bears in the mountains of Romania, and of Siberian tigers in the Russian Far East. In the poignant and troublesome ferocity of these embattled creatures, we recognize something primeval deep within us, something in danger of vanishing forever. 8 maps.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #559694 in Books
• Published on: 2003-09-08
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 515 pages

Amazon.com Review
As the subtitle of David Quammen's Monster of God: The Man-Eating Predator in the Jungles of History and the Mind suggests, his fascination centers on those animals that raise human "awareness of being meat," and he likens the historic impact of these predators to modern-day car accidents: sudden, unexpected, life-changing. While his research is extraordinary--encompassing extensive field work and diverse reading on the science and lore surrounding predatory animals--Quammen's peripatetic mind jumps from history to psychology to ecology and from Africa to Russia to Australia, sometimes leaving his readers without a base camp to recuperate during the breath-taking journey.

His research on the lions of Gir forest in India, on the crocodiles of Northern Australia, on the bears of the Carpathian Mountains in Romania, and on the Siberian tigers of Far East Russia finds animals held in constant tension, encircled by every-expanding human populations. But Quammen doesn't oversimplify the conflicts. Often, in fact, Quammen has so much to say about competing interests that he makes several false starts before finding his true theme. Recalling his reading in the l970s literature on crocodiles in Africa, for example, Quammen abruptly jumps to a failed farming and reintroduction project begun in India before finally settling into the investigation of Northern Australia's Crocodylus Park.

These changes in geography, time, and perspective can be disorienting in a book that is already complicated by its several competing approaches. Adding to the abundance, Quammen explores human population growth projections, images of the Leviathan in the Bible, keystone species theory, the Muskrat hypothesis (the idea that the "wastage parts" of an animal species are the ones most likely to suffer predation), and the 1994 discovery of the Chauvet cave paintings. Yet Quammen, author of The Soing of the Dodo moves with such ease through this wilderness of ideas that even the most difficult material becomes palatable. --Patrick O’Kelley

From Publishers Weekly
With equal parts lucid travel narrative and scholarly rumination, Quammen (The Song of the Dodo) describes the fascinating past, tenuous present and bleak future of four supremely adapted predators who are finding themselves increasingly out of place in the modern world. The animals-Indian lions, Australian crocodiles, Russian brown bears and Siberian tigers-share more in common than alpha roles in their respective environments and dwindling prospects for maintaining them; they are, as the book pointedly notes, man-eaters, animals that can and do feed on human flesh. Quammen admits that the term may seem antiquated, but, he writes, "there's just no precise and gender-neutral alternative that says the same thing with the same degree of terse, atavistic punch." He looks at the animals both up close and from an intellectual distance, examining them in their threatened enclaves in the wild and pondering what these killers have meant to us in our religion and art from the pages of the Bible and Beowulf to Norse sagas and African poetry. His writing is sharp and vital, whether depicting his guide's chance childhood encounter with a lion cub or the heat of a rollicking crocodile hunt in a soupy river. Equally resonant are his arguments for why these particular animals excite such fear and fascination in us, and how we will suffer in terms practical and profound if they are eliminated completely from their habitats and confined to zoos and human memory. The crisp reportorial immediacy and sobering analysis make for a book that is as powerful and frightening as the animals it chronicles.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Scientific American
Incoming college freshmen often hear an advisory adage: "You don't take courses, you take professors." That is, regardless of the subject, enroll in classes taught by the best instructors. In that spirit, even without a previous interest in man-eating predators, potential readers will very likely find Monster of God worthwhile because David Quammen wrote it. Quammen is probably best known for the years he spent at Outside magazine, writing beautiful, witty and informative essays, which live on in the collections The Boilerplate Rhino and The Flight of the Iguana. His previous sprawling science-cum-travel book was The Song of the Dodo, a globe-trotting adventure that took the author to wild places in search of secrets of island biogeography. A chunk of that work dealt with the Komodo dragon, a stealthy hunter that occasionally bags itself a human victim. Man-eating predators must have gotten under Quammen's skin--figuratively, fortunately. The new work is entirely devoted to the contemplation of a few of the remaining species that can stalk, attack, kill and eat a human being. "It's one thing to be dead," Quammen writes. "It's another thing to be meat." He frames his parameters in the first chapter. Elephants, bison and rhinos trample the odd person; wolves and hyenas may pack-attack the unlucky human; snake venom poisons people; and "malarial mosquitoes could be considered the deadliest form of wildlife on the planet." But those animals do not sit precariously atop the food chain. Quammen's thesis is that human beings have a special, coevolutionary relationship with top predators, a result of having long been the hunted rather than the hunter. The top predators thus still haunt our dreams, having been incorporated into our mythology, art, epic literature and religion. One could make the same argument, in particular, for snakes--big ones still sometimes consume people, and they are certainly represented in mythology, art, literature and, God knows, religion. But it somehow feels right that Quammen has confined his discussion to four large beasts that can defeat, kill and eat any person not carrying significant weaponry: lions, crocodiles, bears and tigers. Using case studies to illuminate general points, Quammen limits the locales from which he reports. For lions, he visits the Gir forest of westernmost India, where a few hundred individuals, belonging to a subspecies closely related to the more familiar African lion, survive in close quarters with Maldharis, traditional buffalo herders. Next he hangs out with the Yolngu of north-central Australia, who hang out with crocodiles. He then takes us to Romania's Carpathian Mountains, where bears share the woods with shepherds and state forest managers. The bears are conspecific with American grizzlies but as recently as 1988 had a population density 20 times that in Yellowstone National Park and its surroundings. And he finishes in the Russian Far East, where the Udege people hunt and trap small mammals while avoiding being hunted and trapped by Siberian tigers. Like any good reporter, Quammen bugs people. He sucks information from scientific experts as well as from the people who still live more or less alongside these animals. And he acknowledges his pestering, referring to the graciousness of one source for putting up with "my greedy, unfocused curiosity." That self-description is manifest in the finished work. Reading Quammen can be like having a cocktail-party conversation with a man just home from an around-the-world tour but who is, amazingly, not boring. And so, in addition to news from the front, the reader is treated to excursions into taxidermy recipes, mythology based on heroic battles against man-eaters (including an entire synopsis of Beowulf and a good piece of The Epic of Gilgamesh), a review of the scientific analysis of predator teeth structure and function, and discussions of ecological theories of body size and predator-prey relationships as functions of environmental constraints. He also muses on cave art, with specific attention to paintings rediscovered in 1994 at Chauvet Cave in France, which, based on the subject matter of an artist who toiled about 35,000 years ago, was lousy with lions. In all Quammen's case studies, the human voraciousness for habitat means increasingly tragic human-predator interactions and probable eventual doom for the predators. After reviewing U.N. population estimates of almost 11 billion humans teeming on earth by 2150, he writes, "Call me a pessimist, but when I look into that future, I don't see any lions, tigers, or bears." Oh my, indeed. The only way to ensure a version of survival may be to allow individuals of these species to be hunted for big bucks, thus making extant beasts economically attractive. "To me it's a tedious paradox," Quammen concludes, "not a liberating insight, and no matter how often I hear it, applied to one or another magnificent species in their various corners of the world, each time I find it tedious afresh. But, beyond quibbling over details of linkage and enforcement, I can't rationally disagree."

Steve Mirsky is an editor at Scientific American and writes the monthly Anti Gravity column. (829)

Customer Reviews

exceptional book on mythology, history, and biology
I really enjoyed this exceptional book on the mythology, culture, history, and biology of man-eaters around the world. Though he primarily focuses on four specific animals - the Asiatic lion in the forest of Gir in India, the saltwater crocodile in northern Australia, the brown bear in the forests and mountains of Romania, and the Siberian (or more properly Amur) tiger of the Russian Far East- author David Quammen discusses other predators as well, such as the African lion, the grizzly of North America, the Nile crocodile, and the leopard as well as some now extinct species.

Quammen does an excellent job of covering just about any aspect you might wish to learn about animals that occasionally dine on man. Aspects of ecology are very well covered, introducing the reader to many key concepts in ecology (particularly as they relate to these creatures), such as the terms alpha predator, keystone species, and trophic cascades, showing that for a healty ecosystem - including healthy plants and prey animals - the presence of a viable population of predator is crucial. The education this book gave me on ecology was quite remarkable, with the author going into very readable detail on many issues and very interestingly their history as well, showing some of the personalities behind their conception. The individual biology and paleontology of each of the focus species in this book are well covered, as well as that of close and more distant relations, covering everything from the rise and fall of sabertooth mammals (feline and otherwise) to the spread of the tiger species throughout Asia (and its later evolution into various subspecies).

Equally interesting - and valuable - in this work Quammen goes into great detail about the interaction between humans and the top predators throughout world history as well as the situation to date. How have large predators - such as perhaps cave bears and cave lions - shaped the evolution (physically and culturally) of ancient peoples? How have such animals shaped the development of human art, literature, mythology, and religion? Quammen brings into this rather engrossing discussion everything from Babylonian epics to Beowulf to Tolkien.

Quammen does not only focus on the animals, but on their sometime victims as well. He looks at how have native peoples dealt with man-eaters in the past and how do traditional peoples deal with them today. Quammen is very sensitive to the lives of those who face (and occassionally feed) these predators, really bringing to life for the reader such diverse groups as the Malhadris of India, the Udege of Russia, and the shepherds of Romania. Quammen vividly contrasts this with looking at how has the coming of colonial enterprises and regimes (such as the British in India and Australia) changed interactions with local alpha predators.

Perhaps most importantly, this book asks what does the future hold for such predators? Will they always have a guaranteed place in the wild, outside of zoos and circuses? How can one make sure that they do? There is quite a debate raging on how to make sure that forests still stalk the snowy forests of the Russian Far East and the billabongs of steamy northern Australia and Quammen provides excellent coverage of all sides.

A very valuable and entertaining book, it has a very extensive bibilography as well. I highly recommend it.

Biology confronts mythology . . .
. . . and meet politics and globalisation. The encounter, reported by North America's foremost nature journalist, is an informative, exquisite read. Quammen's value in explaining Nature's realm is demonstrated by his many excellent works. This one achieves a new level of excellence as he travels the planet seeking that which we fear most - predators. Not just any predators, but what he terms the "alpha predators" - large, solitary and figures of fearful legend. Legends play a large role in how we view the rest of Nature. No matter how strenuously we try to separate ourselves from our environment, Quammen argues, it will return to confront us.

Quammen focuses on four predators in this account - the Asian lion, the crocodile, bears in Romania and "Siberian" tigers. Surrounded by humans and their legends and lifestyles, this quartette symbolises our conflicting views of animals with reputations as "man-eaters". Disdaining accusations of "sexist" or other cultural labels surrounding his terms, Quamman confronts us with the realities of human-predator interactions. Lions, which once roamed from Atlantic Europe to Eastern Asia, have been pushed into meagre enclaves outside of Africa. They, along with the crocodiles, bears and Amur tigers are surrounded by human neighbours. Quammen explains that the long-term human residents, the Mahldari in India, Aborigines of Australia, the Romanian shepherds and Ugede of Eastern Russia have formed accomodating
relationships with their proximate predator populations. The oft-repeated phrase is "don't bother them and they won't bother you".

Changes in political and economic forces, Quammen contends, bring changes to those relationships. While national governments may strive to protect these select species, local conditions are being overturned. Globalisation intrudes on local economic and political structures, changing market demands, resource allocation and use, and the lifestyles of both predators and their prey. Populations shift in response, habitats are invaded or destroyed and abrupt changes confront traditional lifestyles. These are adjustments forced within a lifetime, not over generations. Quammen shows how we must learn quickly and immediately before the damage from the changes are irreparable.

What role does a predator play in the natural order of life? Shouldn't we simply eliminate these "dangerous" lifeforms? Quammen's primary example seems wholly out of place at first glance. One researcher removed a predatory starfish from a section of beach near Seattle. The result, in a very short time, was a substantial shift in other species balance in the area. Quammen's own contacts among the topical predators' human neighbours echo the sentiment - remove the animals and the habitat follows. The impact is uncalcuable. The lesson is glaringly clear - we need these "ferocious" creatures to maintain the environment we inhabit.

Quammen departs from mainstream conservatism in this excellent study. The role of humanity may not be cast aside and species isolated for protection. He urges a role for hunting, for skins, for culling where needed. These activities, distasteful to some, can be beneficial when applied with informed controls. There are no simple answers to maintaining diversity. We must all be aware of the issues involved, and this book is a fine place to begin learning. Graced with a set of maps and an extensive bibliography, Monster of God is an important and erudite account. Put it at the top of your reading list. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]

Read Song of the Dodo first
I've read most of Quammen's books, and I strongly recommend reading "Song of the Dodo" before this one. That is Quammen's best, and one of the greatest popular science books ever written, a thrilling, enlightening classic. This one is just ok.

This one has potential: exploring the habitats of "man-eating" predators, the mythology surrounding them, their place in human psychology, the struggle to preserve them and the questions in that struggle. It could be a fascinating book, and it is pretty darn good.

Quammen looks at the Asiatic Lion, which plays a prominent role in the Bible and the rest of ancient European and Near-Eastern culture. But today it only remains in a small and shrinking forest in western India. Quammen goes there and reports on the lifestyles of the people who live in and around that forest, and the chances for the lion's survival.

Then he moves to the saltwater crocodile, especially in Australia. Here he does a good job exploring the economic significance of the crocodile and the leather industry, and also on the relations of various aboriginal groups to the crocodile. He does not tell us much about the Australian government's role in conservation, although that must be signficant as well.

Next he turns to the grizzlies of Romania, called brown bears everywhere outside of North America. He gives a decent history of their popularity in Yellowstone and Glacier parks, and a great coverage of their place in Romanian forest management, sport hunting, and shepherding. Of course Ceaucescu forms the constant background to the story of the bears in Romania.

Finally he goes to the Russian Far East, around Vladivostok, to learn about the situation of the Siberian Tiger. (Not the white-tiger mutants in zoos.) Again he considers the way the traditional local inhabitants feel about the tigers. Here he could have given a better coverage of the Chinese medicine black market for tiger parts--a fascinating subject that hangs over the Siberian tiger, but Quammen barely touches it.

From there he turns to Beowulf, Gilgamesh and the Alien movies.

Quammen's worldview holds that we humans need an element of wildness, and that our technology and climate control is eliminating not only many beautiful, fascinating creatures but also an essential part of our psyche. He doesn't force his view on his readers, but it is obviously in the background.

I was a little disappointed with this book, honestly. I'm a big fan of Quammen, and I expected a lot; it's still better than most other pop-sci books out there. But I'd like to have a better sense of each of these animals' lives: what do they eat, how often do they reproduce, what parasites and diseases do they struggle with, what are the specific immediate and long-term threats to their survival? Moreover, he did a great job looking at Beowulf and Alien, and a pretty good job looking at Gilgamesh. I wish he'd thrown in a few more great monster myths, or myths that show other aspects of the animals he covered, such as the tiger as protector, as creator of the world, and so on. Finally, I wish he'd included a few more predators, especially the python and the Nile crocodile. I would happily have read an 800 page book if he'd written one. But I'm too much of a Quammen fan to deduct a star: the problem isn't that he wrote anything badly or made any mistakes, just that he didn't write enough.

Yet.