E.H. Aitken, writing under the pen name 'Eha,' opens his collection with a series of essays that dissect animal anatomy—feet, bills, tails, noses, ears—with a blend of scientific curiosity and dry humor. In 'Feet and Hands,' he compares the human foot to that of a gorilla, noting that 'the great toe is the most characteristic feature of the human foot,' and contrasts it with the clodhopping hooves of beasts. His voice is that of a naturalist who delights in the peculiar, yet never loses sight of the evolutionary logic behind each structure.
A Playful Anatomist
Aitken's approach to anatomy is anything but dry. In 'Bills of Birds,' he remarks that 'no doubt each bird swears by its own pattern,' anthropomorphizing without sentimentality. He describes the pelican's pouch as 'as wonderful as the pelican, but how opposite!'—a characteristic inversion that underscores his method: he often highlights the oddity to reveal function. The essays are structured as comparative studies, moving from human to animal, and Aitken frequently uses the first person to draw the reader into his observations, as when he notes that 'a shrew can do it, but not a man.' This direct address creates an intimacy that invites the reader to share his wonder.
The Snake Essay as Rhetorical Performance
The chapter on snakes is a masterclass in ironic persuasion. Aitken begins by sympathizing with those who fear visiting India because of snakes, then systematically dismantles common myths with mock solemnity. He lists the 'true faith' about serpents—that they are slimy, fascinate their prey, and dart from coils—before revealing that these beliefs are 'attested by such passages in the poets as—Like adder darting from his coil, and by travellers passim.' The humor lies in the deadpan delivery; he never directly calls the reader credulous. Instead, he piles on absurdities until the reader recognizes the folly. The essay is structured as a series of objections and rebuttals, each more exaggerated than the last, culminating in a plea for rational observation.
Domestication and Dominion
In 'Domestic Animals,' Aitken turns his eye to the relationship between humans and animals, arguing that domestication is a 'noble opening for carrying out in its kindest sense the command' to have dominion. He notes that few wild species have been successfully domesticated, and that the process requires 'wisely and patiently handled' effort. His tone is pragmatic, not sentimental; he observes that 'when a want could be supplied by obtaining from another country an animal bred to live with man and serve him, the long and difficult task of softening down the wild instincts of a beast taken from the forests' was rarely attempted. This essay reveals Aitken's broader interest in the intersection of natural history and human culture, a theme that recurs throughout the collection.
Indian Scenes and Borrowed Words
The later essays shift focus to Indian life and language. 'The Purbhoo' and 'A Hindu Festival' offer ethnographic sketches, while 'Borrowed Indian Words' traces the etymology of terms like 'bungalow' and 'cobra.' Aitken's diction here is more descriptive than analytical, but his eye for detail remains sharp. In 'Indian Poverty,' he avoids moralizing, instead presenting observations that challenge the reader's assumptions. The inclusion of a memoir by Surgeon-General W.B. Bannerman provides biographical context, noting Aitken's reputation as 'an accurate and amusing writer on natural history subjects' and his character as 'a Christian gentleman of singular simplicity and modesty.'
Readers approaching Concerning Animals and Other Matters will find a work that rewards attention to its author's voice. Aitken's essays are best read as performances: he leads the reader through a series of observations, often with a wink, and expects an active, questioning audience. The collection is not a systematic treatise but a series of provocations, each essay a self-contained argument for looking closely at the natural world and the words we use to describe it.
Eha’s essays left me watching a mongoose for an hour, just to catch its exactness. I thought of that quiet, precise noticing when I came across The Conflict between Private Monopoly and Good Citizenship — Key Ideas to Explore—the same refusal to look away, the same patience for what is, not what we wish it were. Some books sit with you like that.