Jane Goodall did write books, GorgeousX, in addition to revolutionising the way humans view primates.
1972 Grub: The Bush Baby (with H. van Lawick). Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
1988 My Life with the Chimpanzees New York: Byron Preiss Visual Publications, Inc. Translated into French, Japanese and Chinese. Parenting's Reading-Magic Award for "Outstanding Book for Children," 1989.
1989 The Chimpanzee Family Book Saxonville, MA: Picture Book Studio; Munich: Neugebauer Press; London: Picture Book Studio. Translated into more than 15 languages, including Japanese and Swahili. The UNICEF Award for the best children's book of 1989. Austrian state prize for best children's book of 1990.
1989 Jane Goodall's Animal World: Chimps New York: Macmillan.
1989 Animal Family Series: Chimpanzee Family; Lion Family; Elephant Family; Zebra Family; Giraffe Family; Baboon Family; Hyena Family; Wildebeest Family Toronto: Madison Marketing Ltd.
1994 With Love New York / London: North-South Books. Translated into German, French, Italian, and Japanese.
1999 Dr. White (illustrated by Julie Litty). New York: North-South Books.
2000 The Eagle & the Wren (illustrated by Alexander Reichstein). New York: North-South Books.
2001 Chimpanzees I Love: Saving Their World and Ours New York: Scholastic Press
2004 Rickie and Henri: A True Story (with Alan Marks) Penguin Young Readers Group
She also has one son, who she nicknamed Grub.
ISNT, my points were playing Devil's Advocate to GorgeousX's assertion that highly intelligent women would be likely to find children monotonous and repetitive - apologies if this was not clear. It was somewhat tongue in cheek, tbh.
The wisest people do find joy in everything - I'm not saying I do, but I can recognise that having the creativity and serenity to milk life for all it's worth is a Worthwhile Thing. I don't see why it's tactless to aspire to it, no matter how you feel.
I am hopeless at living in the moment and have had bouts of significant anxiety about, well, everything. None of this makes me any more or any less intelligent, I don't believe. I really envy people who see the good in everything. It doesn't mean I think people who can't (including myself!) should feel like shit about themselves.
I have a MASSIVE issue with seeing spending time with children as worthwhile being linked to intelligence. I think it's a terribly antifeminist point of view and that is what I find deeply unpleasant.
Why does it have to be so value-loaded? I was being deliberately provocative in response to GorgeousX's posts because she was suggesting that a "certain calibre" of woman who had a certain level of intelligence would find spending time with kids boring. This type of argument was used for many years to dissuade men from taking an active role in childrearing because it was "lesser".
The issue is that we seek to make time we spend with our children something it can never be. No one frets about zoning out on public transport or not being intellectually stimulated in traffic or when cutting one's toenails, it's just seen as part of life... yet I'm sure that there are many intelligent, creative people who would probably write songs or compose novellas in the car. Certainly, GorgeousX seemed to be talking about a very rare and unusual type of person in discussing their response to childcare. Why do people feel the need to question their emotional responses to changing a nappy? It's all conditioning... this horrible feeling people have of not being fulfilled every moment of the day. Most of us only realise what we have when it's gone, it's the human condition...
What I was doing was trying to show the opposite pole of a ludicrous argument e.g. view the little blighters as fodder for your Opus or research project. Like Piaget experimenting on his kid and writing a diary about it.
It's all nonsense. Sometimes kids are boring as hell, sometimes they're fun. They're just kids. We don't assess our personalities or intelligence in the same way if we have boring encounters in other areas of our lives, why buy into the guilt that we are supposed to be some sort of domestic goddess basking in the reflected glow of our children's loveliness?