Pigeons

Blechman has a chip on his shoulder when it comes to “sky rats.” He claims it’s a relatively new phenomenon, this commonly held antipathy for pigeons, and in his new book he not only highlights the happier history of the little garbage-eaters, he seeks out the places where they’re still revered.

This leads him first to Orlando Martinez, master pigeon breeder, who races his birds year in and year out at high-stakes competitions in New York City (the races serve as the narrative thread, connecting various bits of trivia throughout the book). Martinez is part of a subculture that—like many in New York—is hip-deep in cash and reputed Mafia interest. And when attending the Grand Nationals, a beauty pageant for pigeons akin to the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, he can see both the grandiosity and absurity of the event.

These types of books are becoming more and more common: pop histories of neglected everyday topics. Blechman is adroit in his attention to minutiae, and breezy with his prose, and he sets the right tone early: He’s both journalistic and amused.

Perhaps the best chapter details his attempts to interview Mike Tyson about his penchant for pigeons. Elusive Iron Mike never sits down with Blechman, but an unsettlingly soft portrait of the Face-Tattooed One emerges. He loves his pigeons dearly, because they’re as misunderstood as he is.—Jonathan Messinger