It takes a special kind of journalist to spend over a year studying something most people label "gross". Sullivan isn't a biologist or student of animal behaviour. The advantage of that is that he brought only a mild distaste to his unusual self-assignment, but few other preconceptions. He was prepared to learn, and he did. He didn't lose the distaste, but he learned much about the subterranean inhabitants of his city. He also gained some new friends - people he would likely never encounter under different circumstances. Gathered together, his subjects, their providers and pursuers - in both cases you and your neighbours - and some interesting history into a book of compelling interest.Studying city rats requires adapting your life to theirs. They are nocturnal animals, so Sullivan left his wife and family at the TV while he ventured into a New York City alley. The alley turned out to have something besides large, hungry rodents. Sullivan dug into city records to determine why the alley is bent - giving it two names. He learned to watch the rats with binoculars and night-vision goggles. He must have made a fascinating sight on his little camp stool gazing into the darkness. He didn't have to bring them treats. The bars and restaurants in the neighbourhood were ample providers. With a varied buffet available, the rats proved fussy eaters. Sullivan is actually able to list preferred and disdained foods - all our garbage.
In studying city history, Sullivan is able to provide some history of "pest control" in New York City and elsewhere. He explains why "exterminator" is a term now out of fashion, replaced by "pest control" and other euphemisms. "Extermination" isn't possible with rats. Some always survive assaults on their numbers. When the numbers drop, replacements move in with alacrity. Numbers are an interesting issue in his account. "One human, one rat" is a battle cry when launching campaigns to eliminate rats. Sullivan shows how invalid that assumption is. It isn't the numbers that are significant, so much as the rats' intelligence and adaptability. Among their talents are the ability to gnaw through concrete and steel, and to dive down a hole no bigger than their skull. A set of strong jaws and teeth is applied to the first ability and a flexible skeleton permits the second.
The underlying theme is this book is more practical than simple description. Both species of rats, the Norway and the Black, are urban residents. They have adapted to living alongside humans who feed their gluttony with garbage. They can never be eliminated, and the "pest controllers" can only seal off some access holes, poison a few individuals or, in extreme cases, shoot one or two. Poisoning, which can be just as harmful to humans or pets, has limitations. Sullivan, and some of his contacts are quite clear about the way to reduce the rat population in New York City. Plastic garbage bags have proven a blessing for rats who can penetrate them easily. Chucking a bag from a back door often splits them, giving the rats immediate access. Rat control was actually better when metal trash bins were in use, but the sanitation workers objected to their weight.
If there's a fault to this book, it's Sullivan's failure to view some other rat habitats. Milwaukee is hardly exotic shores. There are societies that find rats a good source of protein. While this might not appeal to New Yorkers, it is a reality. His subtitle, "the city", would be all-inclusive, did the cover art not give away the limitation. Sullivan is a lively and able writer [even if he can't spell "Eniwetok"] and keeps your interest through every ratty adventure. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]
