I am currently reading a fascinating book called Anthill. A combination of ecology,
biology, entomology, and southern fairytale, it chronicles the life of a boy
growing up in the Florida Panhandle and his fight to save a wetland called Lake
Nokobee; particularly the numerous anthills that occupy that area. It is the
debut novel of eminent naturalist E.O. Wilson, but is clearly somewhat autobiographical,
as his own specialty in the field is a massive knowledge of ants.
The part of the book
about humans is interesting in that it contains genealogies and history of the
old south and details of the Civil War. But the fourth part of the novel, “The Anthill Chronicles”, is where it
really becomes incredible. This section reads like I imagine Game of Thrones to read: there are betrayals
and fights for power, wars between the hills, conspiracies, and epic, obstacle-fraught
journeys across unknown territory.
Wilson compares the
ant world to the human one deftly and brilliantly, teaching us more about
ourselves with each parable. Where humans are a tad selfish by nature, ants are
fanatically altruistic and will do anything for the good of the clan. Like
humans, ants will request the help of fellow ants and they will all rush about
to get a job done quickly. All communications happen in pitch-darkness through
the exchange of pheromones, powerful chemicals that are to ants what sight and
sound are to humans.
The size proportions
used to give the reader an ant’s perspective are wonderful and mindboggling. A
quote: “…five feet below the surface, a distance of four hundred ant lengths.
By human scale the ant city was the equivalent of two hundred underground
stories. The mound of excavated soil capping the nest added another fifty
stories aboveground.”
I haven’t finished Anthill, but already my knowledge of,
and my respect for these tiny six-legged creatures has doubled. I feel like I’m
privy to a secret world that not many humans are allowed to peer at, especially
not in detail. Aren’t books lovely!
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