21st Century Literature discussion

This thread is for discussion of the entire book, and will contain spoilers.

How many people actually managed to avoid reading or hearing spoilers for this book before they read it?

The structure of the book was arranged so that Fern would be introduced as Rosie's sister before we found out she was a chimpanzee. Did you think this was effective? Would you have felt differently about their relationship if the book had been written in a more linear fashion? If you knew ahead of time, do you think the structure was still an effective tool for telling the story?

There is a lot of information out there about chimps raised as humans, here are just a couple links.

An story from NPR on the film Project Nim, which I whole-heartedly recommend.

Wikipedia article on Gua and the Kellog Family

Whitney wrote: "How many people actually managed to avoid reading or hearing spoilers for this book before they read it?

The structure of the book was arranged so that Fern would be introduced as Rosie's sister b..."

I tried my best to avoid spoilers, and still somehow went into the book knowing Fern was a chimp. It's disappointing that people feel compelled to talk about what is so obviously intended to be a surprise twist. Yet despite the spoilers, I think it was much more effective written this way. It really set the tone of exploring human-chimp relationships from a different POV by smashing expectations from the start.

I seem to be in a minority here. I don't really like to read too much about a book or author before reading. I really like to keep the art and artist separate as much as possible.

So, to be prepared I started to read a review, (you guys come with so much background, I felt I had to keep up) which started by telling me not to read any reviews. I knew nothing.

From radiolab http://www.radiolab.org/story/91706-l...

(Those of you who don't know about radiolab, you're missing out!)

I managed it. It helps that I read the ebook, since the paperback spoils it on the back cover, and hints at it on the front. Also, I had decided to read this book mostly on the strength of the author, so I hadn't felt a need to look into it in advance. So, in other words, it was mostly luck. But I'm glad it wasn't spoiled for me -- I liked the reveal a lot. This is a book that will re-read very differently than it first read for me.

I managed as well, largely thanks to warnings from members of this group.

Not knowing the 'truth' about Rosie was effective in some ways, but maybe less in others. I was initially assuming that the sister had been abducted or killed, before we found out she was alive somewhere. When we found out the truth, it initially seemed less traumatic.

If you've seem the film 'Project Nim', or other documentaries of chimps raised with humans it's immediately obvious why a chimp would have to be sent away. It seemed to me that Fowler was to some extent counting on us to fill in sisterly feelings instead of actually showing us the bond between Rosie and Fern. I never really got their closeness, since Rosie (working out her own guilt) focused more on her jealousy and sibling rivalry with Fern than their commonality.

Did other people feel their closeness? Was Rosie's trauma the loss of a sister, or more her guilt over what she thought was her part in it?

Y'all know I deny the validity of "spoilers" -- consider them a poor artifact of how most of us learned to read in the 20th century. I also understand that I am outnumbered probably at least 100 to 1 in that view. (Mysteries may be an exception, I'll grant. But even the good ones of those should be able to be reread with pleasure.)

Nonetheless, I did listen -- by vigorously slapping my fingertips away from doing a Google search -- to whomever said don't read the reviews to this one (even the book jacket) and somehow blissfully ignored the significance of that strange little creature hanging from the black silhouette of what looked like an acacia tree to me. (Maybe the deep recesses speculated the setting might be Africa.) Some few pages before "the big reveal", I did ask myself, "what's going on here?"

While I didn't particularly discern it myself, I quite agree with comments, both in the book and in the author's interviews, that delaying the information did change my relationship, as a reader, with Fern. She had been established first as a family member, then recognized as a chimp. Somehow, my head quite probably therefore followed the succeeding dynamics differently. But I think the delay technique would have worked even if I had "known" this was a story about a family that raised their human child and a chimp together from near birth. I might have had more of a "grad student" attitude, but Fowler still succeeded in making this a story more about a dysfunctional family gone astray on a key "wrong" choice than about an animal-human psychological experiment gone astray.

(In that sense, of a key bad decision, the story has parallels for me with The Light Between Oceans , where the protagonists must work out the repercussions of what they have done. I hope I can say that without being a spoiler, since Fowler has introduced us to the story in media res, well before we know how all will play out. If someone shouts, I'll come back and modify for the sake of others.)

Lily wrote: "Y'all know I deny the validity of "spoilers" -- consider them a poor artifact of how most of us learned to read in the 20th century. I also understand that I am outnumbered probably at least 100 t..."

I feel exactly the same way about 'spoilers', in general. If hearing one fact can ruin an entire book, than that book probably isn't worth reading. I the case of this book, tough, it is interesting to see how your thoughts of the family change when you find out about Fern. I'm not sure if it adds to the ultimate value of the book or not, though.

Fowler still succeeded in making this a story more about a dysfunctional family gone astray on a key "wrong" choice than about an animal-human psychological experiment gone astray.

What do you think this "wrong" choice was? Was it adopting Fern in the first place? Or was it sending her away? And if it was sending her away, how could they have done things differently?

Whitney wrote: "...What do you think this 'wrong' choice was? Was it adopting Fern in the first place? Or was it sending her away? And if it was sending her away, how could they have done things differently?..."

Well, like so many things we do as humans, there are multiple forks in the road. My glib answer would be "adopting Fern in the first place." I should think that by the '70's in which this is set, a university professor and the supporting institution should have had access to enough literature to readily ascertain the almost certain dangers or forks down the road. If the choice was made in full cognizance of those risks, then "wrong" choices were made (all over the place) in how Fern was sent away -- many of them choices over which those concerned probably tried to do what they considered to be "right" within the options they believed available to them. All sorts of "what if" scenarios can be created, from university institutional mechanisms to the father and mother being supported and/or strong in the face of their griefs to family, friend, or professional support for the children. The story here reminds us of the fragility (and tenacity) of life and its relationships.

I don't know if this really responds to what you are asking, Whitney. Certainly there must have been a whole series of choices leading up to taking in Fern in the first place. So, even if I use the terminology "wrong choice," I don't know that it should be construed to imply some single isolated decision not embedded in a whole lot of other concerns. (view spoiler)[ Rather like Rosemary makes a number of lifestyle decisions for herself, her mother, and Fern (within the scope available to her or created by her) as the story closes. (hide spoiler)]

Lily wrote: "Whitney wrote: "...What do you think this 'wrong' choice was? Was it adopting Fern in the first place? Or was it sending her away? And if it was sending her away, how could they have done things di..."

Yes, this is exactly what I was asking. Mistakes were made, but what were they? I think Fowler is very generous in showing us how people were acting with best intentions in most instances. If anyone is to bear the brunt of blame, it's the hubris of those institutions with their trends of raising chimps as humans without proper consideration of the likely problems. As you said, there was plenty of information out there by then that was ignored.

Even the family''s decision to adopt Fern was done with a largely humanitarian motive. Fern didn't have many options at the time they took her. It seemed once the decision was made to take Fern, the wheels of future tragedy were pretty unwaveringly set in motion.

If you want to create a militant, uncompromising member of ALF, I think they did it just right. I'm not sure Lowell could have gone any other way after seeing what happened to his sister. Harlow, on the other hand, seemed to be in it for the maximum drama potential.

Did anyone get any sort of idea what exactly they were supposed to be studying? It's understandable that the memories of a 5 year-old wouldn't encompass what the particular thesis was supposed to be, but it seems in writing the book the older Rosie would have asked a little more. Or is it irrelevant enough that it's best passed over as the MacGuffin it is?

Also, thoughts on the secondary characters? I kind of hated Harlow when she was first introduced, but after finding out about the chimp sister, I immediately started to like here. Ezra was pretty entertaining from the beginning. I loved Rosie's line to the CIA that "you only see him when he wants to be seen".

I find myself wondering about the Dad's competency to study chimps. I realize that psychologists do get involved in animal studies, but a psychologist is not a primatologist, nor is the involvement of one mentioned. Of course, if Rosie is the real object of the study, maybe they don't feel they need one. On the other hand, psychologists are kind of known for overreaching: consider B. F. Skinner's work on language acquisition -- if he actually had studied linguistics he might have figured out his theory was problematic.

I just finished the book, and I loved it. I've been trying to figure out what year the experiment started. If Rosie was nineteen in 1996, that would mean she and Fern were born in 1977. I went to college in the mid-70's. I graduated with the class of 1975. I remember a bit about academic theories at that time. Nature/nurture was a big battleground in sociology and psychology. I went to Princeton, where the faculty was heavily on the "nurture" side of the equation. I remember being taught (but never really believing) that most sex differences were the result of upbringing, and that if you raised a boy as a girl (or a girl as a boy) that the child would grow up into a fundamentally different adult. I remember a sociology professor who seemed to be trying really hard to raise his daughter on some kind of "unisex" theory. This was also the heyday of behaviorism, and Skinner was big. I remember using Skinner boxes with pigeons in an introductory psychology lab course. So, thinking back to what those times were like, I can believe this sort of study might have seemed to make sense to someone. As an adult who brought up two children, I now find it inconceivable that a parent could seriously believe that babies were a tabula rasa, and that sex-differences in attitudes were primarily a product of socialization. But that Sociology professor seemed to sincerely believe it.

The book also brought back other memories from college. I had a friend who was majoring in Animal Behavior. Although his specialty was owls, he had a roommate who was working with a chimp. I don't remember the numbers, but I do remember being told how valuable a chimp was (in terms of many thousands of dollars). So maybe this is a factor to consider about what happened to Fern when her experiment ended abruptly and she was "owned" by a University.

Another college memory from a visit to the Animal Behavior lab. I remember watching a female student inject something into the brain of a rat, and thinking how cold blooded it seemed.

I arrived at Princeton in fall of 1971 as part of the first class with a large number of female students. For a couple of years the school had admitted about 30 women per class, but with my class they made the big jump to 300 women in the class. So, in a way, our class was almost like a big sociology experiment. Many of the male students had gone to all-male prep schools, and co-education was a new experience for them. I remember an upperclassman telling me that, until Princeton went co-ed, he "never realized girls could think." In a time like that, raising a human and a chimp together might have sounded like an interesting experiment.

Points well made, Casceil. One of the most basic factors to have been considered should have been safety -- and that does seem to have been a key factor in terminating the work.

(The '60's and '70's were indeed interesting times as more and more of us who were females entered fields that traditionally had been male dominated. In ~1980, Columbia University deliberately enrolled women as half its executive masters in business program. So, yes, there were "real life" experiments -- and probably continue to be.)

Lily wrote: "Points well made, Casceil. One of the most basic factors to have been considered should have been safety -- and that does seem to have been a key factor in terminating the work.

(The '60's and '7..."

Yes, there definitely were 'Chimps raised with humans' experiements going on at the time. Most of them were sign-language experiments intended to disprove Noam Chomsky's contention that animals were incapable of advanced speech, hence 'Nim Chimpsky'. (I took some interest in these debates in the 80's). And most of them were indeed terminated for safety, as well as because they were failing to prove that chimps could learn advanced speech. Nim and some others did some real damage to a few people. As Lily pointed out, no one seemed to bother consulting with primatologists on the matter. Fern was taught sign language, but aside from that Fowler seems pretty unclear on the stated purpose that particular 'experiment'.

It is ironic that a chimp would cost so much to acquire, and then essentially become a burden after they lived out their useful childhood. The ethics of these experiments were reprehensible. As Lowell put it, he was told that this was his sister, and then she was sent off to live in a cage. Most animal experiments now at least have 'lifetime of the animal' considerations, even if it ends up being euthenasia.

I wonder if in 40 years our current psychological theories will look as ridiculous as those you experienced in the 70's. So, did the 'Princeton Experiment' prove that girls could think, or is the jury still out?

Whitney wrote: "Was Rosie's trauma the loss of a sister, or more her guilt over what she thought was her part in it? ..."

I'd suggest Rosie's trauma was very complex -- she "lost" not only Fern, but, in some very real ways, both her parents and her brother. As presented, her grandparents seemed not to be there as ongoing support. But she had already also "lost" some characteristics that placed her in an outsiders role in school.

I wonder to what extent Fern (and Rosie as "monkey girl) is a metaphor.

Deborah wrote: "I wonder to what extent Fern (and Rosie as "monkey girl) is a metaphor."

Deborah -- you lost me. A metaphor of/for....?

Deborah wrote: "I wonder to what extent Fern (and Rosie as "monkey girl) is a metaphor."

It's funny you write this. When I started reading and saw the quotes from Kafka's story, I assumed that it was being used as a metaphor for being an outsider (as Kafka was presumably using it). And that it was the unspecified family tragedy that made Rosie feel like an outsider. Funnily enough, this assumption is what prevented the book cover from being a spoiler for me, as I assumed it was a representation of that 'outsider as ape' metaphor.

After reading the entire book, I'd say it's used as both. A literal story of an experiment in getting an ape to act human (and possibly vice-versa) as well as a metaphor for the outsider. Ironically, a status resulting from the ape-human study.

I finished reading the book a week ago, and because it was an audio book from my local library, I did avoid spoilers. Eventually, I look ed back at the icon of the audio book I downloaded, and managed to see a baby chimp in-between the legs of the parents of the seemingly happy family. The icon for audio books is small, the blurb for this one did not reveal much, so for me it was a major revelation, and I did indeed question for a while the legitimacy of this plot twist.

I even googled some articles, and only then accepted this revelation. Having said that, I still view this novel primarily as a book about the dysfunctional family where the chimp mastered to communicate with people more than family members with each other.

One can endlessly question the plausibility of this book, saying that the results of the previous experiments were conclusive and the co-habitation for more than six or eight years would be miraculous (not the word I would use to discuss science:-)), but the deeper truth about fiction, and this book in particular, is it reveals so much about us: our inhibitions, our fears, our ways to express ourselves directly and via media of toys.

It is not accidental that Rosemary turns into a talker - she has to compensate for Fern who only signs. More over, she is very uncomfortable about Mme Defarge, a puppet that symbolizes Fate in a Dickens novel, but the one who can be used as a puppet in psychological sessions to tell the audience about disturbing events in the past.

Rosemary is deeply traumatized by her childhood experience, and even her choice of career can only mitigate all the psychological injuries, but never heal her. She is half-human, half-monkey living in the world of people who often act like ferocious animals

Zulfiya wrote: "I still view this novel primarily as a book about the dysfunctional family where the chimp mastered to communicate with people more than family members with each other..."

Great comments. I love this insight - that in a family engaging in an experiment involving human-chimpanzee communication, the humans can't even communicate with each other.

It is not accidental that Rosemary turns into a talker - she has to compensate for Fern who only signs.

Do you think she is solely compensating for Fern, or is there an element of sibling rivalry in her constant chatter as well? Something she can do that Fern can't.

Wow, good questions.

It might be both. Rosemary spent so much time with Fern that they might have shared some 'secret' sign words, and, consequently, she was compensating for her.

Conversely, the other version could also be true - Rosemary talks to show that she has mastered a language in its conventional form. It also explain her desire to showcase her vocabulary acquisition; she also keeps teaching SAT words to her elementary school students, and again it could be explained by the same reasons. As it was mentioned in earlier posts about Kafka's quotations, Rosemary is a displaced being - a 'chimpanzeed' human and a humanized chimp. She is forever in this ' behavioral limbo'.

Zulfiya wrote: "It is not accidental that Rosemary turns into a talker - she has to compensate for Fern who only signs. More over, she is very uncomfortable about Mme Defarge, a puppet that symbolizes Fate in a Dickens novel, but the one who can be used as a puppet in psychological sessions to tell the audience about disturbing events in the past. "

I didn't know anything about Mdme. Defarge, and I'm sad, because I think having known that she represents fate would have colored the reading for me.

Zulfiya wrote: "Conversely, the other version could also be true - Rosemary talks to show that she has mastered a language in its conventional form. It also explain her desire to showcase her vocabulary acquisition; she also keeps teaching SAT words to her elementary school students, and again it could be explained by the same reasons. "

Well that makes me wonder, what do words symbolize here? Not power. Not communication. But something coveted all the same. Unless they are power and communication.

I'm not sure I'm making sense here.

I guess I'm confused by how Fowler uses the puppet Madame Defarge in her story. I did not recognize a literary connection, specifically with the Dickens novel, A Tale of Two Cities, which I have not read. Here is what I could glean from her Wiki entry:

"She is arguably the main villain of the novel, obsessed with revenge against the Evrémondes.....

"Defarge symbolizes several themes. She represents one aspect of the Fates. The Moirai (the Fates as represented in Greek mythology) used yarn to measure out the life of a man, and cut it to end it; Defarge knits, and her knitting secretly encodes the names of people to be killed. Defarge also symbolizes the nature of the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution in which radical Jacobins engaged in mass political persecution of all real or supposed enemies of the Revolution who were executed on grounds of sedition to the new republic through the guillotine, particularly targeting people with aristocratic heritage."

I'll have to reconsider. How profoundly does Fowler use the image? How deftly does she avoid trope while providing vivid metaphor? (Is Rosemary's a life of fate (of misdirected events--even suitcases), Lowell's one of destructive obsession? But that only partially fits with Rosie's adoration of her brother.)

Madame DeFarge's knitting included the names of people that were going to be killed by the Republicans. A lot of reviews have commented on the 'drawing room' title of Fowler's book. I think DeFarge fits in that sense. One the surface, DeFarge and her knitting present a somewhat homey and innocuous picture, but on closer inspection, that homey knitting is hiding horrors.

Whitney wrote: "As Lily pointed out, no one seemed to bother consulting with primatologists on the matter...."

Well, actually we should give credit to Peter @14 credit for that specific observation. Mine was more general towards implying the need for reviewing the literature about experiments that had preceded.

So, did the 'Princeton Experiment' prove that girls could think, or is the jury still out?

No proof necessary. Just demonstrate to some bimbos.

(Of course, as some of my male colleagues would occasionally point out, the same problem of demonstrating good thinking to the clueless could be a guy challenge, too.)

Stories like My Beloved World may begin to influence the attitudes of some, but given the reviews I've seen, certainly not all.

Sonia Sotomayor was Princeton Class of 1976. I don't remember her, but we were there at the same time, and probably shared a dining hall.

Deborah wrote: "From radiolab http://www.radiolab.org/story/91706-l...

(Those of you who don't know about radiolab, you're missing out!)"

Thanks for the link, Deborah. I often listen to Radiolab, but do not remember this program. Intriguing.

Whitney wrote: "How many people actually managed to avoid reading or hearing spoilers for this book before they read it?

I had read a the Kingsolver review a couple of months before this book was picked. When, after I'd read about four chapters and not read anything about a chimp (I read the Kindle version), I thought I must have misremembered what book was about a chimp! So I'd have to say, the spoiler reviews and book jacket did not spoil the surprise for me - I was surprised when it was revealed that Fern was a chimp.

The structure of the book was arranged so that Fern would be introduced as Rosie's sister b..."

I liked the structure of this book -- starting in the middle, as well as going backwards and forward and revisiting some scenes again. I think the way it was set up, kept Rosie as the focus of the story for me, even after I was reminded that sister Fern was a chimp.

Linda wrote: "I liked the structure of this book -- starting in the middle, as well as going backwards and forward and revisiting some scenes again. I think the way it was set up, kept Rosie as the focus of the story for me, even after I was reminded that sister Fern was a chimp..."

Yes. I also admired how Fowler toyed with the in media res convention by always telling the reader that she's going to start the story in the middle.

Casceil wrote: "Sonia Sotomayor was Princeton Class of 1976. I don't remember her, but we were there at the same time, and probably shared a dining hall."

It will undoubtedly take generations of you, given the illustrious history of Princeton graduates, to "prove" women can think (as equals to men?). But thank goodness the process is underway, there and elsewhere. However we raise our sons and daughters, may we not let it stop.

Whitney wrote: "Did anyone get any sort of idea what exactly they were supposed to be studying? It's understandable that the memories of a 5 year-old wouldn't encompass what the particular thesis was supposed to b..."

I'm not sure that the purpose of the study was a MacGullin - I think Rosie's dad was studying the impact on her of having a chimp sibling. What the grad students were doing is much more uncertain and is irrelevant to the story, which for me centers on how Rosie was impacted and dealt with that.

Also, thoughts on the secondary characters? I kind of hated Harlow when she was first introduced, but after finding out about the chimp sister, I immediately started to like here. Ezra was pretty entertaining from the beginning. I loved Rosie's line to the CIA that "you only see him when he wants to be seen".

I did not think any of the secondary characters (those outside Rosie's family) were particularly well-developed. They had important roles to play but were indeed secondary! Harlow seemed to be Fern reincarnate -- stealing Lowell from Rosie just as Fern had done.

Whitney wrote: "Was Rosie's trauma the loss of a sister, or more her guilt over what she thought was her part in it? "

For me, Rosie's trauma was her guilt not just over what resulted for Ferm but also over the impact of what Fern's removal had on her family. For me, the book was about Rosie trying to come to terms with what she had wrought by saying she was afraid of Fern. Rosie seems like the child who believes they are responsible for some event of great impact to the child's family -- divorce of parents, death of a parent, etc. And it wasn't just guilt about causing Fern's removal. It was also guilt for why she had done it, i.e., because she was jealous of the attention Fern got.

Zulfiya wrote: "Wow, good questions.

It might be both. Rosemary spent so much time with Fern that they might have shared some 'secret' sign words, and, consequently, she was compensating for her.

Conversely, t..."

Your comments made me think of stories about children raised by animals. This article lists 10 of those -- http://www.smashinglists.com/10-feral....

The impact on both Fern and Rosie was similar -- neither had an easy time readapting to an environment of their "peers." At least in the book, both appear to have ultimately been able to lead productive and reasonably fulfilling lives.

Daniel wrote: "...Yes. I also admired how Fowler toyed with the in media res convention by always telling the reader that she's going to start the story in the middle. ..."

In media res is a very common device for telling epic tales. Not sure what qualifies as an epic, but I liked Fowler's use of it here.

What impressed me most about the story was Fowler's ability to write the character Rosemary. If I understand the discussions within and about the book correctly, there was little to draw upon regarding the impact of the chimp (animal) on the human (animal) -- most of the studies have/had been in the other direction, the ability of the chimp to acquire human characteristics, particularly of communications.

Much of what Fowler portrayed seemed very plausible. One thing I did wonder was how quickly would Rosemary, as a young child, have been likely to shed her mimicking behaviors once Fern left. E.g., would the stoop and rounded shoulders have persisted as long as the vertical eye scanning and climbing? We can probably assume Rosemary entered kindergarten almost immediately. Would she have fared better with a delay? How quickly might she/did she revert to human child-like behaviors? Which ones did most to earn her the moniker "monkey-child"? Fowler made what happened feel quite plausible, but I could have enjoyed the perspective of another narrator -- a teacher, her mother, even Lowell, perhaps just the adult Rosemary telling the reader what some said, even to her when she was a teenager. We really see things pretty close in from Rosemary's perspective -- one crack is when her mother tells her a bit about what happened when they did try to talk to her. (p. 268)

Lily wrote: "We really see things pretty close in from Rosemary's perspective -- one crack is when her mother tells her a bit about what happened when they did try to talk to her. (p. 268) ..."

We do get the comments from Rosie's report card, which I can't find right now, about her being, as I recall, impatient and impulsive. She also mentions how before starting kindergarten, her mother was coaching her in things like 'not jumping on tables'. Which kind of makes me wonder about mom. Was she cool with her daughter acting like a chimp until Fern was sent away? There was also the part about how Rosie couldn't go to children's parties because she might bring home germs. I can understand her father being cold-blooded about his daughter having a normal life and being more interested in how she became chimp-like. But mom?

Lily wrote: " If I understand the discussions within and about the book correctly, there was little to draw upon regarding the impact of the chimp (animal) on the human (animal) -- most of the studies have/had been in the other direction, the ability of the chimp to acquire human characteristics, particularly of communications.

Much of what Fowler portrayed seemed very plausible. "

No wonder Fowler safeguards the validity of her arguments about the impact of chips on the human minds using the epistemological interpretation of the reality, the only reality that could never be disproved - the reality of human mind. When I read it, I found it quite an engaging part of the book, but slightly irrelevant. Now, reading the group discussion, I do see how all parts of the book form a well-planned pattern.

@28Whitney wrote: "...A lot of reviews have commented on the 'drawing room' title of Fowler's book...."

I missed that. Would someone explain to what "'drawing room' title" refers and what it means? Or point to a review that discusses it.

To me, to accuse the title of being 'drawing room' type is spot on, not necessarily a bad thing. It's the room where you receive your guests, the finest room in your mansion, and when you talk with your guests, you are refined, elegant, flourishing, but you would never be honest and would do your best to avoid offense. If it were not that type of title, it would be something like, "We Were All Completely Nutso, Totally Insane!"

Carl wrote: "To me, to accuse the title of being 'drawing room' type is spot on, not necessarily a bad thing. It's the room where you receive your guests, the finest room in your mansion, and when you talk with..."

Well stated, I think that's exactly right. I also think there may be a secondary, more literal implication as well, regarding having a chimp in the family, the animal that is the closest relative to humans.

Here's one review that mentions the 'drawing room' title:
The Washington Post

I remembered there being others, but the second one I just found was a reprint of the same review in The Denver Post. I'll look again later.

Whitney wrote: "Here's one review that mentions the 'drawing room' title:..."

Thx, Carl, Whitney -- I skimmed over the term 'drawing room' title when I read the Post review -- I had not heard it used before, but the meaning didn't seem crucial at that point, so didn't even remember it. I wonder if using it re: Fowler and this book related at all to her having written about a Jane Austen book club. Or if it is just a literary critic's expression that I happen to not have encountered previously. I smiled re your alternative title, Carl. [g]

Whitney wrote: "Carl wrote: "To me, to accuse the title of being 'drawing room' type is spot on, not necessarily a bad thing. It's the room where you receive your guests, the finest room in your mansion, and when ..."

Thanks Whitney for the link to this review. It is one I had not read and it's a good one! It raises a question for me -- is it even possible to review this book without giving away the fact that Fern is a chimp?

Linda wrote: "It raises a question for me -- is it even possible to review this book without giving away the fact that Fern is a chimp? ..."

It would be difficult without writing a review that was maddeningly coy. I also wonder to what extent Fowler considered this while writing. She must have know that the majority of hers readers would already know that the sister being spoken of in the first part of the book was a chimp.

Whitney wrote: "...She must have known that the majority of her readers would already know that the sister being spoken of in the first part of the book was a chimp...."

Whitney -- you highlight why "spoiler" seems so irrelevant a term. But still story-telling the sister relationship first, before the child-chimp relationship, seemed effective positioning and pacing. I somehow can't imagine Fowler really intended a "surprise," at least by the time she had the book ready for publication.

Something else that's been bothering me about this book, is the character of Lowell. He seems, frankly, mean-spirited toward the people in his life, saving his 'kindness' for animals. Telling Rosie that she had forced the removal of Fern when she was five was unnecessary, and he didn't seem particularly concerned with how Fern's removal may have affected Rosie. Did anyone else find him to be a particularly sympathetic character? Is absolutely everything he is defined by what happened to Fern?

I don't think "everything he is" is defined by losing Fern, so much as the course of action he took once he found out what had really happened to her. He wasn't particularly kind to Rosie, but--siblings. He told her the truth as he saw it, though in fact the younger him had got it wrong. He also told her something along the lines of, "you were only five; don't beat yourself up about it." To which Rosie naturally wondered, what kind of family lets a five year old make a decision like that? Apparently Fern had been becoming more aggressive, and there was already a concern, so that when Rosie said she getting to be afraid of Fern, that tipped the balance. As an adult, Rosie would put it differently--that Fern was changing and becoming less predictable, but that may be another way of saying exactly what the grown-ups were already worried about.

Whitney wrote: "Something else that's been bothering me about this book, is the character of Lowell. He seems, frankly, mean-spirited toward the people in his life, saving his 'kindness' for animals. Telling Rosie..."

I think I feel the saddest about Lowell. I think, at least early on, that he regretted getting involved with the activists and wished he was able to return home and go to college. That early bad decision pretty much led him down the path of self-destruction. Even after, as a kid, he told the five year old Rosie it was her fault, he continued to watch over Rosie.