This post could be subtitled "Finally Returned to the Collection." This was one of my very favorite non-fiction books for many years. I remember learning about Frans de Waal in a biology class in 2000, and then reading an article about him around that same time. It was right around the time of this book being published. I pre-ordered it on Amazon and devoured it in a few days after it arrived.
Besides having one of my favorite covers ever, the material inside I found groundbreaking.
Frans de Waal is a Dutch primatologist working mainly at Emory University in Atlanta, but has worked in many places, broadening contemporary understanding of bonobos and chimpanzees in captivity. This book covers his understanding of the definition of "culture" (behaviors learned by social interactions) and how a few non-human animals exhibit culture.
He also explores how not having other primates in North America leads to the American idea that humans are "godly miracles" and not "mostly hairless primates."
One of the guys that the Missus Gonzo befriended while studying abroad was a biology major, and she'd talked up this book and Frans in general with the guy, and when they returned, she asked if she could loan out the book to this gentleman. He was a cool enough guy, and I said yes. That was 2004, and it was also the last time I ever saw my copy of the book.
That wasn't the first time I loaned out a book or movie only to never see it again, and of course it wouldn't be the last, but I learned a valuable lesson about loaning out books I consider in my upper tier of personal favorites. Most books or movies I "loan" out, unless I stress the point vociferously, I tacitly understand that that book or movie may not return, and if that's the case, then it's better that way. Certain people need certain books or movies.
So, last summer, before breaking my leg, I found a copy just like this at Fingerprints, an indie record store with an indie book section (they shelve Robot Crickets). I wanted it, surely, but I wasn't willing to pay the asking price. On a different, more recent trip to Fingerprints (probably with copies of Robot Crickets) I noticed it had sold. Part of me was disappointed, while part of me was happy someone else would be exposed to Frans' novel ideas. Ingesting the material is good for everybody.
The other day I returned to the bookstore, noticed my own book selling a little, and saw this copy of The Ape and the Sushi Master. Obviously the asking price was in my ballpark, and I excitedly snapped it up, carrying it with me as I searched the rest of the store. It was a good day for my book collection.
