Chris Alice Kratzer begins her new book with a deeply personal memory and dedication, then proceeds to deliver another comprehensive treatment of a common, yet complex, category of insects: cicadas. The book is the second for Kratzer, whose debut work was The Social Wasps of North America. With memories of this spring’s periodical cicada event still fresh in the public mind, this book could easily eclipse the wasp book in popularity, but both volumes deserve your attention.
The Cicadas of North America is essentially a monograph of all members of the family Cicadidae found north of South America. The scientific community should certainly respect it as such. If this sounds intimidating for non-scientists, you need not fear. Kratzer is a master science communicator, with sincere empathy for those of us who avoided hardcore subjects in high school and college.
Part of the genius in her approach is that she is self-publishing through Owfly Publishing, a subsidiary of her company Owlfly, LLC. This allows her to set her own limits, if any, and prioritize what she sees as most important for her audience. She takes creative license that serves to enhance the readability and overall presentation of the book. The digital artwork alone is enough to recommend the book, but wait, there is more.
Kratzer’s trademark continues to be exceptionally thorough coverage of background information on life cycle, anatomy, evolution, classification, ecological relationships, and impacts on humanity, both positive and negative, past and present. Even if cicadas are not your favorite insect (but really, why are they not?), you will find yourself referring to the front of the book for understandable explanations of genetics, taxonomy, and other scientific concepts that apply broadly across all organisms.
Once again, Kratzer expands her region of focus to include Latin America as, ideally, all such manuals should in the interest of geographic accuracy that respects biomes but not borders. This might be the final nudge I need to renew my passport. I mean, look at that Sparse Emerald Cicada, Zammara smaragdula. A turquoise cicada (it is on the cover, too)?
Each digital rendering is split from left to right to show the degree of variation in color, density of markings, and other morphological features to help identify a specimen of either form. Some species are treated twice if they exhibit strong regional differences, with corresponding range maps delineating their geographic distribution. Everyone contributing reference photos, and community science records resulting from those images, is acknowledged on each species page.
If you are a stickler for minute details, and/or get hooked on studying cicadas yourself, the “taxonomic notes” in the back of the book give you the most current assessment of the standing of various species. Kratzer readily admits that what is in the book could be wrong, but there is no argument as to how much is completely unknown to anyone, at least in the community of Western scientists. The book is thus both a treatise and a booster designed to ignite further research.
If I sound like a paid shill, or an infomercial, I hope I can be forgiven for my enthusiasm for a quality example of natural history literature. Meanwhile, I hope Kratzer continues turning out more such references for whatever creatures catch her fancy. I’m subscribed to the Owlfly newsletter, so I should be among the first to know.
The Cicadas of North America is a hefty 573 pages, retails for $27.99 U.S., from the publisher, and is shipped in sustainable packaging from EcoEnclose. You can request a signed copy when you order.
