I was looking forward to taking a well deserved break from studying for my Physical Anthropology midterms (yes, plural), when I realized that this week’s book was Hominids. Despite my chagrin at having to spend even more time reading about DNA and bone structure and ancient humanity, I quickly realized that my studying gave me a really interesting perspective on the novel (and vice versa). For once, I actually understood the science that we were reading about (somewhat), which deepened my understanding of the plot and my appreciation of the intense research that goes into writing something like this. Not that it wasn’t obvious before, but being able to construct something that takes these highly scientific theories and then merges and reinterprets them to create an original yet conceivable universe takes a lot of skill. I wonder how much more I would have appreciated the Martian or anything else that we’ve read if those concepts felt more comprehensible to me. It makes me wonder why we don’t teach science and literature jointly — after all, it seems like it would be a great way to get science-inclined students more interested in literature and vice versa. In fact, why don’t we seem to teach anything this way? Some of the best advice I think I’ve gotten about planning my classes was to take a history class that matched up to the same time period as whatever literature course I take next. I think that when we are able to learn holistically, it helps to put the new information into a context and makes it more meaningful. Hopefully, as I bury myself in my anthropology textbooks over the next two nights, I’ll be able to push through thinking about Ponter and Adikor.

I also wanted to take a moment to talk about Dolphin’s Way, which was easily my favorite story of this module. Strangely enough, this was the most heart-breaking story so far in my opinion, and it tore my heart out in the most perfect ways. I think there is something so visceral and relatable about coming so close to something, succeeding, even, only to be rejected or disappointed. The story utilizes a similar plot device to The Cold Equations, where it makes you think that the ending is determined, only to rip it all out from under you in the last few paragraphs, however, I think that Dolphin’s Way used it much more effectively because of its subtlety. I also think that it taps into a fear of failure that seems really relevant for college students, or at least for myself. In my generation, and seemingly in those that preceeded it, nonchalance is the safest position to take from a social perspective. As we discussed in our first class, people have a tendency to turn away from and even ridicule passion, which I think stems from our collective fear of rejection; it’s easier to not have tried than to have people know that we wanted and failed. It is painful to watch Mal pour so much into this operation despite the opinions of and discouragement from others, despite all the odds, and despite being dismissed as crazy for his theory. What makes it heart-breaking, though, is that he is proven right only to have what we consider to be rightfully his ripped away from him. The ending felt so important to me because it is painful, but also because it gives voice to what I think is such a palpable and universal human fear.