Douglas Adams, Last Chance to See [Library of Babel]

The passing of Steve "Crocodile Hunter" Irwin in a freak accident while diving with stingrays (and not while sticking his thumb of the butt of some exotic and venomous creature) has made a big splash in blogdom. I was never a fan of his shows, so I don't have anything specific to say about him, but he seems to have been very good at getting people interested in rare and interesting wildlife, and it's always sad to lose someone like that.

As a tribute of sorts, I'll bump Douglas Adams's wildlife book Last Chance to See up in the booklog queue. The concept here was vaguely similar, though not nearly as successful: Adams and a crew from the BBC went to a bunch of different places to see exotic species that are threatened with extinction. Among others, they went looking for mountain gorillas, white rhinos, Komodo dragons, baiji dolphins, and the flightless kakapo of New Zealand.

I'm not really sure why this book didn't sell a bazillion copies. Adams was, of course, a wildly successful author of humorous science fiction, and people love wildlife. And he does a terrific job of making comedy out of the various trials and tribulations suffered while trying to get to the remote locations where these rare animals survive, while also conveying something of the wonder involved in seeing creqatures that are among the last of their kind. You would think it would've been a hit, but it pretty much sank without a trace. Go figure.

I had the pleasure of hearing Adams read a bit from this at a bookstore in DC, back when I was in grad school. He was a fantastic reader, doing funny voices and sound effects, and it's a good scene for a Steve Irwin tie-in, featuring as it does a crazy Australian expert on venomous snakes. I'll quote a bit below the fold:

He handed round the snake venom detection kits and his home-baked fairy cakes and retreated back to his desk, where he beamed at us cheerfully from behind his curly beard and bow tie. We admired the kits, which were small, efficient boxes neatly packed with tiny bottles , a pipette, a syringe, and a complicated set of instructions that I wouldn't want to have to read for the first time in a panic, and then we asked him how many of the snakes he had been bitten by himself.

"None of 'em," he said. "Another area of expertise I've developed is that of getting other people to handle the dangerous animals. Won't do it myself. Don't want to get bitten, do I? You know what it says on my book jackets? 'Hobbies: gardening--with gloves; fishing--with boots; traveling--with care.' That's the answer. What else? Well, in addition to the boots wear thick, baggy trousers, and preferably have half a dozen people tramping along in front of you making as much noise as possible. The snakes pick up the vibrations and get out of your way, unless it's a death adder, otherwise known as the deaf adder, which just lies there. People can walk right past it and over it and nothing happens. I've heard of twelve people in a line walking over a death adder and the twelfth person accidentally trod on it and got bitten. Normally you're quite safe if you're twelfth in line. You're not eating your cakes. Come on, get them down you, there's more in the venom fridge."

We asked, tentatively, if we could perhaps take a snake bite detector kit with us to Komodo.

"'Course you can, 'course you can. Take as many as you like. Won't do you a blind bit of good because they're only for Australian snakes."

"So what do we do if we get bitten by something deadly, then?" I asked.

He blinked at me as if I were stupid.

"Well, what do you think you do?" he said. "You die of course. That's what deadly means."

If you like Adams's fiction, you'll probably like this. Kate originally got it as an audiobook, which actually might be even better, if you're an audiobook person (I can't listen to them myself-- put one on, and I go immediately to sleep...).