It’s always tough to review a memoir as it can come off like reviewing someones life rather than the book itself. Sangamithra Iyer’s Governing Bodies took me a little while to get into. A mishmash of tumultuous things in my personal life and a unique writing structure meant that the book took me a bit longer to read than I expected. This is not a bad thing however. It is plain to see why Iyer was a recipient of a Whiting Creative Nonfiction Grant. Once I settled in, the book took me on journeys all over time and place. This is the type of memoir and collection of writing that can be read multiple times, discovering something new with each experience.
The physical design and structure of the book is lovely. The table of contents is combined with and woven along a map of a river with points for various animals and events. There are beautiful quotes throughout the book, little silhouettes of different species marking breaks in text, and other design touches that make the physical copy worth the read.
The text is written in the present tense which is unusual but not unheard of for this type of book. Large amounts of the text, especially in the beginning sections, also function as letters to and mini biographies of her father and grandfather. There was also a lot of what seemed like uncritical admiration for and inclusion of Gandhi’s life story. She does go on to discuss the ways he let her down and the importance of not worshiping people we admire as infallible. Part of why I struggled with these writing choices is more based on personal taste and interest. I wanted to know more about her life than theirs. The text also jumps around quite a lot. Iyer will jump from topic to topic, sometimes spending a few sentences on an important event while others spanned multiple sections. At times, this made the book a little tough for me to settle into. I found myself thinking, “wait, tell me more!” when the author would hop back into speaking to her family and telling their stories. This sort of thing becomes less present the more the book progresses. Again, a lot of this is personal taste rather than skill. I’m never one to be interested in IVF which was a good chunk of her shared experience. However, most of the other sections that got a lot of space were fascinating.
The author is a child of immigrants who was vegetarian and then vegan. Her strong commitment to the liberation of other species from such a young age is admirable. She discussed how this affected her education including when she would object to curriculum involving harming animals. She discussed weighing the practicality of a civil engineering education against following her passion to work with other species and in environmental protection. She details her time working with rescued chimpanzees, writing for Satya magazine, traveling and navigating the prejudice in sciences and other fields as a brown woman, passion for the experiences of the the greater than human world as well as that of humans, and the connections of all of these things as they commingle across the planet.
Something that really shines in the memoir and storytelling aspects of this book is how Iyer immerses the reader in the atmosphere of each story. I don’t know if I’ve ever read a text where someone so carefully observed and included other species she observed throughout her travels. I’m not just talking about sanctuary animals she encountered, but those she may see for a second on the side of the road and others that her struggles with illness and oppression made her feel intimately related to.
She also discussed Indian culture and nonviolence, including the myth that India is a monolith of belief system and respect for cows. The level of harm and exploitation towards these animals is extensive even in areas where they are part of worship- as is the case with most of the world. Much of Iyer’s veganism is informed by intimate experiences with highly diverse cultures in India and elsewhere. Iyer also devotes a section to her experience shadowing several egg barons on their profit driven journey to shift from battery cage operations to “cage free.” The conflicts between these men’s beliefs and practices in their personal lives and their professional conduct were extensive and morbidly fascinating. How does one who practices Jainism in most aspects of their life then execute a profession involving horrific egg farming? How are men so focused on hospitality yet so detached from the experiences of hens on these farms? Just reading this experience took me on an emotional roller-coaster, so I can only imagine what living it was like. I’m grateful for the way she told this story. It is one of many examples of the heavily conflicting nature of horrific industries and human behavior. This leads to my next point.
As I’ve mentioned in other reviews, I have a boundary with media that details animal suffering. I no longer put myself through a lot of it- I’ve been vegan 20 years and have seen enough happen to animals in farms, labs, and other industries to traumatize me for eternity. The way Iyer navigated these topics in this book was very intentional and skillful. Reading her tellings does not require the reader to go through the immense trauma of witnessing the unfathomable level of violence towards other animals in extensive detail, but she also does not shy away from this reality. It’s difficult to describe how she did this, but I’m grateful for it. I hope that reading a text like this will ease folks into different ways of seeing and thinking without causing them to shut down. The book also can serve as a companion to those of us already exercising similar ethical practices as they are woven throughout the text and author’s life seamlessly. When VINE book club met after reading this book, one member referred to this as “continuing trauma without invoking it” which is an apt description of something that is no easy feat.
Iyer captures what it is like to move consistently throughout the world as someone aware of what is happening to animals around her regardless of species. This is both an exhausting and rewarding way to live. She discusses how her veganism is both personal and a wider response to state authoritarianism and violence. She links her experiences with chronic illness and reproductive healthcare to the exploitation of other animals and their bodies. She highlights the care work going into helping others grow old and eventually die. Her stories about her dog brought me to tears having lost several companions myself in close succession due to age and illness. There is so much beauty throughout her story and the book as well. Chimps given the chance to thrive, humans willing to change their minds and practices, ecosystems recovering with the right focus, and so forth. This book is truly a journey. I’m sure there are many things I would find anew if I started it all over again.
Overall, the book is an experimental and creative collection of memoir, essay, and storytelling that takes the reader on journeys throughout the world. It shows the reader the lives of both the author and others she encountered. I’d be interested to read another book later in her life that tells us the stories of what will come next.
This was also posted to my goodreads and storygraph.