 |
| Click to enlarge |
We get quite a collage of critters in the "blueprint" design of the front cover. I'm no trilobite expert, but that little guy at the bottom looks good enough to me, at least for the resolution of this image. I'm not going to bother discussing the "apemen" in the center. I think the two creatures on either side of the skull are meant to represent differing interpretations of the same fossils, but any discussion on hominins in a creationist book leads down a rabbit hole that could keep us running in circles all day. Take it away, Akbar.
I do however feel relatively qualified to talk about the rest of the prehistoric beasts on the cover. First and mostly famously we have the obligatory Tyrannosaurus. The artist portrays it in the usual "I know the Dinosaur Renaissance is happening but I don't wanna!" style that was typical of your average dinosaur kids book of the time period. Sexy Rexy has his tail lifted off the ground, but only barely, allowing him to safely maintain the old kangaroo-style pose. His head shows no particular regard for the skull: just a generic "carnosaur" head with teeth going all the way back to the gullet.
Standing directly in front of the T. rex, and certainly not to scale if my identification is correct, stands a classic "dawn horse", likely meant to be Eohippus itself. It has proper multi-toed feet with appropriately small hooves, and a generally deer-like body and coloration. I personally would have emphasized the relationship with modern horses a little more, perhaps by adding a mane or something, but hey, a pretty decent effort overall. Just in case you're wondering, I spliced the front and back covers together on my computer after scanning them separately, and unfortunately poor Eohippus lost its snout in the process. It looks fine on the physical book, I swear!
The front cover is graced by a classically retro Brontosaurus, of a decidedly 70's-80's style. It at least looks rather more alert and active than Burian or Zallinger would have painted it, especially with its proudly at-attention stance, but its tail drags behind it, and claws protrude from the front legs. Its general appearance is rather boring and nondescript: evidently the artist took cues from Elk (1972). Eloquent though she may be, Anne Elk is NOT the final word on long-necked dinosaurs.
Finally, we save the best for last. Wonderbread Adam and Eve have with them a rather pretty Archaeopteryx, perched on Adam's hand. I commend the artist for the rather well-rendered plumage; the larger feathers seem to more or less correspond to the actual fossil, and he even resists the urge to give the poor bird an ugly, scaly head, a temptation to which even creationist artists (with a vested interest in downplaying any reptilian connections) seem to succumb, despite the fossil evidence. Unfortunately, our little feathered friend does not receive a perfect score, as he sadly falls victim to "Wings... But With Hands!!!" syndrome. For any budding illustrators out there, the flight feathers attached to the second finger, not the wrist. Imagine if large talons suddenly erupted out of the backs of your palms, and you'll see the problem with this picture.
Our first chapter heading portrays a sampler platter of ancient and modern sea life, with lobsters and blue whales hanging out alongside trilobites and plesiosaurs. Sea life generally seems to be kind of hard to screw up for some reason, so most things here look okay to me. I have a few minor quibbles with the skulls of the sea reptiles (the plesiosaurs' should look more streamlined, and the Ichthyosaurus sports a sockeye salmon jawline), but otherwise, things seem more or less acceptable. The coelacanth doesn't quite conform to the modern species, but could easily represent an ancient form, so it gets a pass.
The next chapter heading features an odd combination of Cenozoic mammals (ancient and modern) alongside some Mesozoic winged creatures. I'm not sure what organizational category this chapter was meant to cover, other than "not dinosaurs". In the foreground, the viewer can see a saber-toothed cat lying nearby a modern black bear. This cat most definitely does not represent a specimen of Smilodon, the most well-known type of saber-tooth, as its general body shape appears far too gracile, including the famous canine teeth. Indeed, if anything, it looks more like the illustrator stuck vampire teeth on a tiger, gave it spots instead of stripes, and called it a day. However, there are several less familiar felines that did wield extra long canines, so the possibility remains that the artist meant to represent one of them, though I consider it unlikely. In the background, the magnificent form of Paraceratherium towers above its closest modern analogues, an elephant and a giraffe. It looks generally correct in appearance, with tough, leathery skin and a hefty weight to it that ties it to its rhinoceros relatives. To my eyes, it might actually be a little too tall, but by such a small margin, it doesn't really matter. Up in the sky, we see a pair of Pteranodon, as well as another Archaeopteryx. I happen to think that up to a certain point, one really has to try to screw Pteranodon up. As long as the artist doesn't give it bat wings or teeth (its name means "toothless wing," for cryin' out loud), then they can pretty much just draw whatever they've absorbed from pop culture and hit pretty close to the mark. While the stripes on the wings were likely added simply for aesthetic purposes, they happen to correspond to tough fibers known to have stiffened the wing membranes of pterosaurs, so whether intentional or not, they improve the accuracy anyway. The Archaeopteryx does not fare as well however. Its odd hooked beak and overly fat tail drag it down plenty even if one ignores the recurring "wings... but with hands!" syndrome.
Finally, in the moment all the laypeople have been waiting for, we come to the Kingdom of the Dinosaurs! We find ourselves firmly in the awkward mid-Dinosaur-Renaissance art style of many popular books, with sporadic application of the ideas floating around at the time. The two creatures in the background remain resolutely retro in appearance, what with the brachiosaur's dragging tail and the iguanodont's shapeless kangaroo posture (you can really only tell it's an iguanodont by the spiky thumbs). The Tyrannosaurus jaunting about in the middle however, walks with his tail raised and head held high, bellowing forth the good news of the Renaissance as if he were the town crier.
While rather misshapen and inaccurate, the nondescript ankylosaur next to the T-rex seems to display a vaguely Sibbick-ian influence to my eye (John Sibbick being of course one of the most highly copied paleoartists of this period), and so also indirectly alerts us to the era of the Dinosaur Renaissance. I assume the creature in the left corner represents the perennial obligatory "chicken-sized" Compsagnathus, happily nomming some berries. While also rather nondescript, Compsagnathus was itself a rather plain creature, so I guess this little guy is good enough.
One feature of this painting really stands out, however, and serves to really narrow down the time frame of its production. Jack Horner's famed discovery of hundreds of nesting Maiasaura at so-called Egg Mountain was all the rage around the time of this book's production, and the mother Maiasaura feeding her babies in the bottom right corner dominates her half of the picture in a way that practically shouts "look how with the times we are!" And too be fair, so they are. The Maiasaura mother is very well-rendered, possessing more of a clipping beak than a duck-bill, as well as a large brow ridge with a small lump of pointed bone in the center. Her forelimbs may be a bit overly-hoofed, but I've seen scientists going back and forth on this point, so it's nothing to mark her down on. Rather than portray them as scaled-down adults, the artist portrays the babies with appropriately rounded heads and pointier beaks than their mother, just like the real deal. I'm not sure about the age range of the nest's inhabitants, but we can chock that up to artistic license if need be. Overall, the Maiasaura and her babies far outstrip any of their portrait-mates in terms of both prominence and accuracy.
So that's all the chapter heading illustrations. On to the rest of the book! I'm going to post all the pictures of prehistoric creatures contained in these pages for completion's sake, regardless of whether I have much to say on them or not. (One exception: I won't bother with any of the hominids illustrated in this book, which are a big bag of meh.)
This Ichthyosaurus is one of those illustrations I don't have much to say about. It's tail looks a little overly sharky or fishy, but otherwise looks pretty decent. The illustrator does well in making it look like it's own animal, not overly shark or dolphin-like (which ichthyosaurs are often compared to).
Here we have once again a pair of Archaeopteryx displaying "wings... but with hands!" syndrome. Two other issues of note here: first off, if I remember correctly, Archaeopteryx was not quite capable of a songbird-like grasp with its feet as shown here. Its toes were instead probably more comparable to a ground bird like a chicken. Secondly, the artist portrays these birds not only without a beak, but with overly-scaled faces. This is entirely due to chasing paleoart conventions regarding this creature. Now, Archaeopteryx probably did not have a beak, but it certainly did not have a scaly face like that, either. Most people versed in the subject agree its feathers probably went all the way to the snout. Stepping back for a moment, I find it especially odd that a creationist artist of all people would chase this scaly-faced meme, especially since the text goes to great lengths to distance this creature as much as possible from dinosaurs and reptiles in general, repeatedly exclaiming that Archaeopteryx was nothing more than a bird with long wing claws.
It's the dawn horse Eohippus again! This time it looks far better in comparison to its counterpart on the cover. The artist emphasizes a much clearer affinity to modern horses, what with the mane and long face, and its posture delightfully implies an active, horse-like lifestyle. The reader can clearly appreciate the numerous toes (4 in front, 3 in back) which set it apart from modern single-toed horses. Appropriately for this small, coyote-sized herbivore, the artist provides it with a pleasant striped brown and tan camouflage.
I suspect the artist would have portrayed this brontosaur with a dragging tail in a more conventional pose, but seeing as it's dipping out of frame, we'll ignore it as a stylistic choice. The image mostly exists to demonstrate the difference between sauropod and elephant tails, anyway, as explained in the text. (The general gist is, the biblical Behemoth, which some suggest represents an elephant, is described as having a tail like a cedar tree. As elephants do not have such tails, the author suggests that the Book of Job refers instead to a sauropod dinosaur, hence the rear-end illustration here.)
Sorry, I can't think of anything particularly interesting to say about this Triceratops. It's not bad looking. I was going to try to impress you, dear reader, by identifying the most likely model the artist used, but while I thought it might be the skeleton at the American Museum of Natural History, that doesn't seem to be the case. Oh well. Just pretend I said something smart here.
Hey, speaking of recognizable models, I had several little plastic Stegosauruses that looked just like this when I was a kid! Seriously, go check out this link here: the resemblance is uncanny. Odd choices in life models aside, I like that this stegosaur looks somewhat less stupid than most pre-Renaissance incarnations of the creature, but it still drags its tail limply behind it like it Sinclair-esque forebears. Also of note, this particular stegosaur possesses paired back plates, while the real animal possessed alternating adornments instead.
This Struthiomimus has no feathers, which is too bad, but, like the rest of the books I've reviewed so far, I can give it a pass since even the great paleoartists of this time period were still portraying their ornithomimids as naked ostriches. It's holding its tail clear and level off the ground, at least. I was about to accuse the artist of plagiarism, noting an odd similarity to this image from Dinotopia, until I realized that this book came out in 1990, while Dinotopia came out in 1992. I don't think James Gurney reads creationist children's books, so I doubt the reverse situation happened, either. Maybe both artists referenced a different piece of artwork? Very strange... (As long as we're making the comparison, though, I should note that our creationist artist actually portrayed this creature more accurately than the otherwise great Mr. Gurney, what with its skinnier neck and smaller head.)
 |
| Clockwise from top left: Parasaurolophus, Corythosaurus, Lambeosaurus, and Anatosaurus w/ skull |
The Parasaurolophus and the Lambeosaurus look good enough, although the Corythosaurus has a somewhat derpy beak, and the crest shouldn't curve quite so far around the back of the head like that. That's small potatoes compared to the Anatosaurus, though (now known as Edmontosaurus). Not only does it have too short of a snout with an entirely un-duck-like beak, it doesn't even match the illustration of its perfectly accurate skull that's sitting right there beside it. Artists not inspired by Greg Paul often have trouble matching these beasts to their corresponding skeletons, but if you're going to go through the trouble of researching and correctly illustrating the skeletal elements, is it too much to ask that the fleshed out reconstructions match it?
I can't think of anything particularly profound to say about this cute little creepy crawler, so I'll just sing a song about him instead. (Sing to the tune of this oldie...)
Trilobite, trilobite, oh, trilo-trilo-trilo
Trilobite, trilobite, oh, trilo-trilo-trilo-trilobite
Cuter than a bug shaped like a stick
Or Ediacara biota in lime(...stone)
If you're gonna prospect, take your pick
But trilobites... are mi-i-i-ine...
etc.
Ahem. Yes. On to more serious matters.
 |
| Behold the Mer-cow! |
Alright, enough stalling. I wasn't originally sure I wanted to bother reviewing this book, since I didn't think I'd be able to scrounge up enough interesting things to say, but then I remembered this image and decided to do so anyway. It might seem odd putting the image I most wanted to review at the bottom of my blog post, but I wanted to give the book a fair chance and be positive where I could. This... thing... though, ruins most of the book for me. This illustration is meant to illustrate the ridiculousness of evolutionary theory by portraying a transitional form between whales and their supposed evolutionary fore-bears, the even-toed hoofed mammals. (The only living odd-toed hoofed mammals, incidentally, are rhinos, tapirs, and horses. All other hoofed mammals are even-toed.) Now, it's all well and good to criticize what you think may be flaws in evolutionary theory, but the artist and author cross a line in their attempt to belittle evolution by way of humor.
Don't misunderstand me, it's not the scientists' feelings I'm concerned for, it's the book's target audience and the concept of rational discourse itself I have concerns for. No evolutionist has ever suggested that this is what a transitional whale would've looked like. Duane Gish writes as though evolutionists claim whales descend directly from cows or pigs, when in fact those are merely supposed to be their closest modern relatives. Evolutionists actually claim that whales arose from a completely different (and extinct) group of carnivorous even-toed hoofed mammals that looked something like doggish deers. (See here for an illustrated evolutionary sequence; and yes, fossils have been found for each one of these creatures.) While one can still argue that there are insurmountable evolutionary hurdles between this group and modern whales, one has to admit that this theory seems a lot more rational than a literal Mer-cow. To suggest otherwise would seem to anyone like a bald-faced lie, and risks turning anyone who believes such a lie completely against you should they ever find out what evolutionists truly believe. I know I was shaken when I had that realization.
Again, I'm not saying you can't "fight the good fight", I'm simply saying please don't go beating on straw men. It makes you look ridiculous, and renders you woefully, pitifully inadequate for any real discourse you might stumble upon later down the road.
Well, that's all for now. I hope you enjoyed this post and managed to get something out of it despite my rambling. I'm really excited for the next few books in my collection, for now we really start to get to some good, juicy paleoart memes unique to the world of creationism! It's gonna be fun!
No comments:
Post a Comment