Another book I wish I got around to reading sooner, is Lucy Cooke’s Bitch. This sharp, witty, and thoroughly researched counter-narrative to the male-centric assumptions that have dominated the field of evolutionary biology for over a century, was an absolute pleasure to read. With a combination of scientific rigour and humour, Cooke dismantles the patriarchal myths that have painted female animals (and by extension women) as passive, nurturing, and primarily concerned with monogamy and motherhood. In doing so, she offers readers a compelling and often revelatory exploration of the diversity and complexity of female behaviour in the animal kingdom. I am also blessed in knowing Lucy and so whilst reading the book, my internal narrator had her voice which was a nice touch.

At its core, Bitch is a scientific and cultural corrective. Cooke argues that foundational evolutionary theories, that were largely shaped by Darwin and his male successors, were limited by the biases of their time and confirmation bias. These early naturalists often portrayed males as dominant, aggressive, and promiscuous, while females were considered passive vessels whose primary function was to select a mate and raise offspring. Cooke, a zoologist and accomplished science communicator (as well as being a fellow frog lover), delves into modern research that challenges these assumptions. She highlights a wealth of recent studies that reveal the vast diversity of female reproductive strategies, social behaviours, and biological roles. From dominant matriarchal hyena societies to promiscuous female songbirds and asexual lizards, the female of the species emerges as anything but passive.

One of the strongest threads in the book is the critique of how sexism in science has skewed our understanding of animal behaviour. Having recently visited the NHM at Tring this is very clear as there were disproportionally less female animals on display, although this is only the tip of the iceberg. Cooke highlights how female traits and behaviours were often ignored, misinterpreted, or under-researched. Through case studies ranging from female albatrosses forming same-sex parenting pairs to aggressive female bonobos and cetaceans that go through the menopause, Cooke demonstrates that female animals are far more varied and strategic than traditional science has acknowledged.

Cooke writes with a vibrant, irreverent voice. Her prose is laced with humour, sarcasm, and pop culture references, making even dense scientific concepts accessible and engaging. She strikes a fine balance between scholarly authority and conversational tone, making the book appealing to both science enthusiasts and general readers interested in feminism, or evolutionary biology. Her voice is unapologetically feminist but firmly grounded in data and scientific inquiry. She doesn’t shy away from discussing her own frustrations with the field or pointing out the absurdities in historical interpretations of animal behaviour. She also helps to highlight the scientists that have shed light on this modern view of females, who may have been silenced for rocking the boat. Other than the prose switching between American and British English (sometimes in the same sentence), I thoroughly enjoyed reading Bitch and I suspect you will too!

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