Wednesday, May 13, 2015

ISDP: Rules Committee Edition



Under normal conditions, the 13th of the month finds us pounding out a new edition of I Small Dead People in the decrepit garret atop FirstNerve Manor. Things are different today. FirstNerve Manor has been sold and we have vacated the premises. This edition is being posted from a motel room in Barkeyville, Pennsylvania, which, we note, smells faintly of urine.

An item from the police log in the Fremont, Ohio, News-Messenger:
3:46 p.m., a caller reported a foul smell, 1100 block of Stillwell Avenue. The odor was coming from dead fish wrapped in a tarp.
One of those pesky false alarms.

Another close call: In the Ivory Coast, a stowaway hides on a cargo ship amid bags of cocoa beans. Nearly three weeks later the ship docks in Philadelphia.
Dockworker Kareem Dye said he noticed a foul odor, then heard a fellow worker call, “It’s a dead body!” Dye thought the man was joking until he walked over and looked.
According to the Rules Committee, this is a tie and therefore not a qualifying ISDP event.

A strange house call in Lakeside, California:
Brooke’s body was found on March 3 when two sheriff’s court services deputies went to a Woodside Avenue apartment to serve an eviction notice on her mother, Bonnie MacBeth. She had lived there four or five years.

Bonnie answered the door and stated, “Come in, I got something to show you.” Deputies noticed a foul odor inside. One deputy asked what she was going to show them.

She replied, “My daughter is dead in the bedroom.” One deputy checked the cluttered bedroom, but found no one, so he asked where the deceased person was. Bonnie said, “In a suitcase.”
The location of the corpse was being revealed at the same time the deputies noticed a stench. Another tie. Close but no cigar.

It has been an unstated assumption here at FirstNerve that the nose discovering the foul odor of decomposition must be human. But when a mountain biker in Ogden, Utah found a woman’s body in the brush, it was because his dog had followed the scent. Throughout human-canine coevolution, the dog’s nose has been a proxy for our own. The Rules Committee has judged this to be a bona fido ISDP incident.

From Flagler County, Florida:
The body of the 25-year-old man was found after a resident in a nearby house called 911 to report a foul odor and buzzards circling about the neighboring lot. An incident report indicated that the 59-year-old neighbor himself had actually located the body.
And in San Antonio, Texas, the body of a dead woman was discovered in a vacant lot “after the owner of property next door smelled a foul odor.”

See you next time, from wherever we may be.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Vladimir Nabokov: The Literary Scent of Nostalgia



I’ve been dipping into the marvelous stories of Vladimir Nabokov (1899 – 1977). Many of them are about Russians, like himself, who were driven from their country in the revolution of 1917 and spent the next decades circulating around Europe, trying to make sense of what had become of them and their past. Nostalgia was forced upon Nabokov at an unnaturally young age—his family lost its estates, its wealth, its history and its place in the world. As an author he would return continuously to the themes of memory, longing, and fractured time.

Nabokov is a also multisensory writer: he describes sounds, textures, colors, and shapes as if they were animated by their own intentions and emotions. His stories are shot through with smells—very specific ones tied to a particular time and place. The overall effect is almost one of synesthesia. Here is an example from the story "Mademoiselle O", Nabokov’s recollections of a French-Swiss governess his family hired to look after him and his siblings in the years just before the revolution.
Presently, lessons are over and Mademoiselle is reading to us on the veranda where the mats and plaited chairs develop a spicy, biscuity smell in the heat. On the white windowsills, on the long window seats covered with faded calico, the sun breaks into geometrical gems after passing through rhomboids and squares of stained glass. This is the time when Mademoiselle is at her very best.
Nabokov’s often writes long sentences that are an inventory of objects and smells. But these are not mere lists. Watch as he seamlessly weaves scents into a psychological portrait of Mademoiselle O:
Mademoiselles’ room, both in the country and in town, was a weird place to me—a kind of hothouse sheltering a thick-leaved plant imbued with a heavy, queerly acrid odor. Although next to ours, when we were small, it did not seem to belong to our pleasant, well-aired home. In that sickening mist, reeking, among other effluvia, of the brown smell of oxidized apple peel, the lamp burned low, and strange objects glimmered upon the writing desk: a lacquered box with licorice stick, black segments of which she would hack off with her penknife and put to melt under her tongue; a picture postcard of a lake and a castle with mother-of-pearl spangles for windows; a bumpy ball of tightly rolled bits of silver paper that came from all those chocolates she used to consume at night; photographs of the nephew who had died, of his mother who had signed her picture Mater Dolorosa, and of a certain Monsieur de Marante who had been forced by his family to marry a rich widow.
Mademoiselle O
in The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov

Monday, April 13, 2015

ISDP: Georgia on My Mind



Bright spring sunshine is slicing through gaps in the shingles here at FirstNerve Manor and illuminating the thick dust beneath the White Castle boxes scattered on the floor. We’re going to have to do something about that. Maybe plug the holes with wads of Dubble Bubble.

In the meantime, this fresh April edition of FN’s most popular recurring feature is rather light on classic ISDP incidents, i.e., ones in which the wretched, unforgettable stench of decay leads to the discover of a deceased person. The sole offering comes from Albany, Georgia, where police found a dead body in vacant home on West Tift Avenue after they responded to neighbors’ complaints of a foul odor.

By way of consolation to dedicated fans, we are able to present two new nominees for the Norman Bates Award™. Hailing from Fort Wayne, Indiana, is 58-year-old Barbara Ann Helton who is charged with violating her parole under some unusual circumstances:
a Fort Wayne Community Correctional officer was on a home visit for a woman, and while talking to her and another man, he noticed a foul odor. Questioning led the officer to go into the upstairs bedroom where he found an adult body in the closet . . .
Always Trust Your Nose!™

The coroner’s office has yet to positively ID the body, but it may be that of the home owner. According to neighbors, he hadn’t been seen in weeks and the couple told people he “was having surgery”. Police had been to the home “several times”. Hmmm . . .

Nominee number two is “Carolyn” from San Francisco, who may have been living with the mummified remains of her elderly mother in a house in the Richmond District. Neighbors say the mother has not been seen in years and that Carolyn hasn’t been seen outdoors much for about a year. The house was stuffed with junk in classic hoarder style. Here’s an odd additional bit from Carolyne Zinko’s story at SFGate.com:
a man living in an in-law unit at the house was informed on Tuesday that the property was in foreclosure
Dude! Was he anosmic or just being politely disattentive?

Finally, here’s a story that doesn’t meet our famously rigorous criteria for an ISDP incident, but in which the smell of decomposition turns up twice as valuable forensic evidence. It involves the body of a missing 18-year-old Colorado woman found in a discarded suitcase. Hotel employees reported that a room rented by two persons of interest in the case had a foul odor. Also, a police cadaver dog alerted to a smell in the suspects’ car.

As Marcel Proust used to say, À la prochainet!

Saturday, April 11, 2015

An Academic Flashback



It’s spring cleaning time here at FirstNerve Manor. I’ve been getting rid of some academic books I’ve dragged around with me for decades. The dust jacket on one of them caught my eye—an author photo of Edward O. Wilson (that’s him on the right, Charles Lumsden on the left).

This is Wilson as he looked when I met with him for a job interview at Harvard, about the time I got my doctorate in biological psychology. He was cordial and soft-spoken; I was a bit awestruck.

I’m not sure he knew what to make of me or my work on rodent reproductive strategies and behavioral time-sharing. He led me into the humidified chamber that housed his ant colonies and showed me a few—he kept them in large plastic tubs.

“You psychologists study individuals,” he said, peering down into a tub, one eye wandering independently of the other. “I study entire societies.”

An odd duck, but brilliant in some respects.

Monday, March 23, 2015

It’s Here! The All-New Paperback Edition of What the Nose Knows



The original hardcover edition of What the Nose Knows has been sold out for a long time. There has always been a Kindle edition but never a paperback. Until now.

After sweating every detail for months, I’ve finally released my own paperback edition on Amazon. It’s a beautiful thing, if I do say so myself. (And I do!) Grab a copy.

Order one for your newbie DIY perfumer friend. Get one for Uncle Fred who likes to read about science and psychology but needs a break from Malcolm Gladwell. Assign it as additional reading for your next Sensation & Perception course at Faber College. Take one to Starbucks and finally get a conversation going with that cute barista.