It's All Greek to Me...
It's All Greek to Me...
...and Everything is Connected
Hannah Staub recently posted an article on VinePair—“Despite Their Name, Rock Lobsters Are Not Lobsters”—that explained the difference between our familiar clawed lobsters and the ones from warmer waters (that don’t have claws, and are usually sold as “lobster tails”). That’s one LONG opening sentence, but I’ll try to be a tad more succinct.
Staub points out that, taxonomically, the two lobsters are from two different genera. “Genera,” you might recall from high school biology, is the category that groups related species to each other; it’s the plural form of genus. Canis, for example, is the genus for dog-like animals, Canis familiaris is the family dog, Canis lupus is a wolf, Canis latrans is the Roadrunner’s bête noir, Wile E. Coyote). Genus is always capitalized, species is usually not. Also, most, but not all, scientific names are italicized.
[Don’t blame me for taxonomy’s inconsistency—the science has had many practitioners since Carolus Linnaeus came up with the binomial system, three hundred years ago. Some of them even had good reasons for tampering with it. Sorry; last digression.]
ANYWAY…
Staub explains that our familiar Maine lobsters are from the genus Nephropidae—a name based on Greek words for “kidney face (or eyes).” I have no idea how that idea got started; no part of a lobster’s face reminds me of kidneys. But, the “idae” suffix just means “descended from, or related to.”
[“Atreidae,” for example, means the family or descendants of Atreus (look him up, some day—when you’re wondering what was behind the weird familial relations, and assorted curses that led to the Trojan War, in The Iliad— look up “Atreus.” No bones about it, the story gives new meaning to the term “dysfunctional family.”]
So much for my promise to eschew unnecessary digressions.
ANYWAY…
The spiny lobster—a creature who prefers hiding in the coral reefs of much warmer waters (such as the Caribbean)—is of the Genus Palinuridae.
That name makes more sense—well, a kind of sense. If you’ve read Virgil’s Aeneid, you might recall that, when Troy fell, several Trojans escaped by ship. Virgil tells the story because two of those Trojans (Romulus and Remus) are destined to found Rome—the civilization that was destined to undo that of the Greeks.
Karma.
These classic (literally Classic) stories are all connected. Aeneas’ crew wandered across the Mediterranean, much like Homer’s Odysseus. However, unlike the hero of the Odyssey, their journey was shorter.
Much shorter for one of them.
While Odysseus is the only survivor of his voyage, everyone on Aeneas’ ship makes it to mainland Italy, except one. The two post-Trojan War myths are mirrors of each other.
For the last leg of the Trojan’s journey, from Sicily to the mainland of Italy, Aeneas assigns Palinurus the job of helmsman. He was to guide the ship, through the night, to its next stop. Unfortunately for Palinurus, Somnus (the Roman god of sleep, whose name gives us words like “somnolent”) lulls him to sleep. He falls overboard, a sacrifice, required by the gods, to ensure the survival of the rest of the crew.
Spiny lobsters are all descended—at least etymologically—from Aeneas’ unlucky helmsman. Perhaps spiny lobsters are clawless because Palinurus lost his grip on the tiller?
Paid subscribers to these substack pages get access to a complete edition of my novella: Noirvella is a modern story of revenge, told in the style of film noir. They can also read the first part of Unbelievable, a kind of rom-com that forms around a pompous guy who is conceited, misinformed, and undeservedly successful. Both books are sold by Amazon, but paid subscribers get them for free!
Also, substack pages (older than eight months) automatically slip behind a paywall—so only paid subscribers can read them. If you’re interested in reading any of them, you can subscribe, or buy them in book form (I’ve released two volumes of Substack Lightnin’ on Amazon).
Meanwhile, it is easy to become a paying subscriber (just like supporting your favorite NPR station). It’s entirely optional, and—even if you choose not to do so—you’ll continue to get my regular substack posts—and I’ll still be happy to have you as a reader.