On the Price of Eggs ~ Penguin Noir by Nicelle Davis

TRL:DR; This play-in-verse (someone called it that on NetGalley and it seems appropriate) is a five star read. A fantastic look at zoos and aquatic centres and the fate of species as climate change worsens.

Noir: a genre of crime film or fiction characterised by cynicism, fatalism, and moral ambiguity.

Like most of us, when I think noir, I think of black and white crime movies; which is excellent because this is penguin noir and they’re very black and white. But sweet dapper penguins have very little in common with dark and gloomy noir. But Davis did it well!

*****
Summary: We follow a group of anthropomorphised penguins in an a marine park as they struggle to come to terms with their lives. From Macaroni, the disenchanted, who is paired with Princess (born in captivity), to 625 and 256 who represent the future and the past.

*****

The book is very good. At one point I was actually just sitting up and hurting because what happened was insanely terrible. The start is slow, but I would recommend reading on, after all the book is quite short and I do recommend paying attention to the character list and keeping that in mind with the poems. While, this is a novel in verse, the poems do stand out in their own as well, such as

If Penguin #256 was Being Honest, His Daughter Didn't Want Him
Inciting Incident #3
Princess, the Only Emperor Penguin Successfully Hatched at The Sea of Wonder's 'Antarctica' Enclosure

You see elements of noir in things such as the disenchantment, bleakness, sense of loss and abject despair. I don’t know if it was the title or the way Davis wrote that left everything so utterly grey.

This book reminded me of the question regarding our actions if we could hear fish scream. That’s generally treated like a joke, (I’m not a vegetarian) which is a bit insane that we can’t treat things with respect but we can nourish our bodies with them. Penguins are like that; they’re more aesthetically pleasing so we care a bit more. It’s not a whole joke when we depict their pain. Davis uses that to drive us to the very real plight of creatures in captivity and how they feel when we do what’s best for them. For instance, the mating of Princess with a male 3x her age; do we really know how animals would select someone in the wild?

I've come to realise, the deeper I dive into poetry, the less I know what I'm doing. As a concept, this was interesting, especially the poems from the perspective of the actual penguins. The cast we meet at the beginning gave a template of who was sharing the tale and the arc of the book as a whole. However, I did not quite understand the ending and how it was connected to the adventures of the aquarium. It got very dark in places and overall made me sad for our characters (which is clearly symbolic of a wider issue).

A wonderful novel-in-verse. I loved all the penguin stuff. I didn't know I needed penguin poetry in my life but I did. Thank you NetGalley and Livingston Press for the early review copy.

I picked up this one because I love penguins. But I am not going to sugarcoat it, this one is a bit weird. It is a series of poems relating to an anthropomorphized penguin. I see the artistry in this, but for an enjoyable read, it was a no for me.

I'm really not into poetry, but I got drawn in by the title of this one. I'm still not into poetry, but I liked the story connecting most of the poems in this book, and the poems that took the shape of penguins were cute. It's hard to imagine the way the art will look in print from seeing the arc here. I am guessing the art is supposed to be in color, so if that is the case and the book is nicely formatted on nice materials, this could be a lovely little book.

A rollercoaster of emotions, this fantastic anthology left me mournful, hysterical, and contemplative. We explore the inner thoughts of the individual penguins and commiserate. Are these simply anthropomorphized ideas or is this the consequence of humans audacity to interfere in the natural world?

No queria leer como los pinguinos cojian, y menos como lo describe en los poemas. Pero bueno, para gustos no hay nada escrito

My thanks to NetGalley and Livingston Press (press of the U of West Alabama) for the eARC of this book.
A short novel in verse, about penguins in captivity at an aquaworld type place for tourists (and locals with kids, as is the narrator here).
Quite unique, and it does work.
Some issues - the formatting of the book as an ebook is more than a bit garbled, so it is hard to tell when sections begin and end. And not sure the font size changes were meant as part of the piece, or were caused by the change in media type from print to ebook. We also lose the powerful illustrations of Cheryl Gross - they are small, thumbnail sized images here, and in black and white.
I am also not quite sure how it is "noir". A bit gritty? And the last section (Epilogue was it called?) about the narrator/author experiencing a police run "shooting incident" exercise at her school does not really seem to connect to the rest of the book.
Still, insightful (in all of its anthropomorphism), humorous, inventive.
4 out of 5.

"Penguin Noir," as the title suggests, fuses noir with anthropomorphism. One probes the cruelty and strangeness of the world; the other assigns human traits to non-human beings. Together, they mount a thrilling takedown of Man’s god complex.

Davis’ novel-in-verse centers on this complex, fracturing freedom into a cage and exposing the clinical pornography of human-controlled insemination. In doing so, it strips away the illusion of human exceptionalism. By blending poetry with dramatic writing, it then confidently challenges the belief that humanity stands apart from the animal kingdom—the very same it oppresses, whether for gain or enjoyment.

Though the narrative is bleak, its execution is spectacular. Words—aching, violent, and suggestive—mirror emotional states and physical experiences through rhythm and form, drawing the reader into their pattern.

Every mind can glimpse fragments of itself in "Penguin Noir"’s cast: the female penguin aching for a child, the multitude dreaming of freedom in a world governed by human hands, or the spectacle-starved zoogoer, gazing on in hollow awe. Davis goes further still, drawing a sharp parallel between the destructive love of life that seeks to cage and possess, and the human world where life itself becomes a threat.

More precisely, the fear of its loss expands into a cell of its own—one that won't let the mind rest while humanity continues to inflict its greatest horrors upon itself. Yet Davis’ language, far from crushing, traces every boundary with exquisite care; its muscled membrane thrums beneath the mind's fingertips, delivering a subtle but relentless pressure.

In the end, "Penguin Noir" presses its beak against the language of dominion and control, warping it just enough to reveal its cracks. In that distortion lies a truth we rarely confront: that even our most human impulses—love, grief, longing—are not ours alone.

A beautiful and painfully poignant anthology of poems. At first I had no idea where this was going. But then I relaxed into it, as I began to recognize the skill and subtly at work. In sone moments, the hurt and trauma actually made me feel ill. And the ending made me question everything I had just read, I think I need to read it multiple times. Overall, a bit too short, and the poetry is fast and loose. But it is still full of muscle, emotion, and blood.

By the time I had reached climax, I was already so inmersed on the story I could not put it down. I wanted to know everything about these penguins and their lives. I empathized with them, I became one with the penguins. Lastly, I would like to say that the illustrations inside the book match the poems perfectly and that both the author and the illustrator did a great work.

The collection's hybrid form—a "play-in-verse"—allows Davis to utilize theatrical techniques that heighten the spectacle of ecological catastrophe while maintaining intimate emotional resonance. The author's language oscillates between wry observation and raw exasperation, creating a rhythmic tension that mirrors the precarious existence of her penguin protagonists.

A poignant albeit sometimes raunchy metaphor for climate change and environmentalism told mostly through the eyes of penguins.