Books About Darwin

by Deborah Markus, excerpted from a longer article in the special Darwin section of Secular Homeschooling, Issue #7, July/August 2009

This is a sampling of books about Darwin, for all ages and reading levels (including the read-to-me set). I wanted to focus on works that were published this year, in honor of the anniversary; but a few previously released works were too valuable not to be mentioned here.

I have purposely kept classification by age level vague (suggested grade levels being pointless in this context). Instead, I have tried by detailed descriptions and liberal quotations to give a sense of the sort of information each book provides, and the sort of comprehension that information would demand of a young reader (or read-to).

All of these books are works I either own or have ready access to. Money and shelf-space are generally tight for homeschoolers. If you're considering a purchase but need more information about a particular title, send inquiries to editor@secular-homeschooling.com and I'll do my best to answer any questions you have.

For young readers

Animals Charles Darwin Saw: An Around-the-World Adventure, by Sandra Markle; illustrated by Zina Saunders. Chronicle Books, 2009. Hardcover, $16.99

Each two-page spread of this appealingly illustrated picture book details a chapter of Darwin's life and work, and offers a box of text about the various animals that Darwin encountered both on his travels and at home. When relating the famous story about Darwin foolishly popping a beetle into his mouth in order to free up a hand to grab another insect, the author mentions that the beetle Darwin ended up spitting out was probably a bombardier beetle.

The section about the earthquake Darwin experienced in Chile was particularly valuable to my teaching. The picture dramatically illustrates the mussels' plight, and the text expertly reports what a thought-provoking occasion this was for Darwin.

I was also pleased that the author, in discussing the benchuca bug, suggests a possible explanation for the poor health Darwin suffered from later in life. Too many writers have dismissed his illnesses as hypochondria, which seems rather condescending treatment of a scientist.

The glossary offers an excellent scientific definition of "theory," but I was puzzled that the pronunciation guide insisted that the last syllable of the word takes the emphasis. (I realize that even noticing this puts me into uncharted nerd-editor territory.) The author also succumbs to the latest children's-biography trend of referring to its subject by first name. Other than these tiny quibbles, this is an excellent introduction to Darwin's life and the living creatures that so intrigued him.

One Beetle Too Many: The Extraordinary Adventures of Charles Darwin, by Kathryn Lasky; illustrated by Matthew Trueman. Candlewick Press, 2009. Hardcover, $17.99

This strikingly illustrated picture book calls for a mixed review. On the one hand, it offers vivid descriptions of Darwin's early life, school experiences, and travels. (As is typical of books on Darwin for young readers, his later life is compressed into a mere three pages.) Readers learn that one of the most brilliant scientific thinkers of all time wrote a letter home from college containing the word "alltogether" [sic]. We see Darwin trying (unsuccessfully) to pole-vault across a muddy ditch in an attempt to collect a rare botanic specimen. The man whose travels led directly to the writing that changed the world forever suffered so badly from seasickness that for days on end, raisins were the only food he could keep down. And we learn, touchingly, that when he married and started a family, he kept a notebook titled "The Natural History of Babies." So far as this information goes, both the writing and the illustrations are brilliant.

Two things are troubling about this book. First, the title is deliberately misleading. One Beetle Too Many refers to the incident described in the previous review, in which Darwin is out collecting beetles, gets greedy, and decides to grab a gorgeous specimen when his hands are already full of two others. Why would a book that chose a title based on this amusing event misrepresent it? Not only does the author present it as happening when Darwin is a child (he actually began his insect-hunts in college, for fun and profit), but she implies that Darwin successfully collected all three beetles, when in fact he ended up losing two of them. Markle's book Animals Charles Darwin Saw sums this incident up by concluding, "He had just learned an important lesson: always take time to observe an animal and understand its behavior before drawing any conclusions about it" (such as that it would be safe to store in your mouth!). Lasky simply says that Darwin "ran for his collecting bottle," and leaves it at that. Where, then, is the one beetle too many?

This is fairly trivial, however. Far more significant is how this book represents religion. First, the author takes a cheap shot at it. Darwin didn't do well in medical school — although he didn't rush out of an operating room because he couldn't stand the sight of blood, as Lasky claims; he left because the child being operated on, without benefit of yet-to-be-invented anesthesia, was screaming in pain and terror. (Lasky doesn't see the irony of twice mentioning Darwin's supposed queasiness at the sight of blood right before she brings up the fact that he enjoyed foxhunting.) His father decided that since Darwin wouldn't make a good doctor, and he needed a gentleman's profession, the clergy would be suitable. It wasn't much work, it was genteel, and it would fit just fine with Darwin's love of wandering about outdoors. At the time, joining the clergy wasn't the profession of faith it is today; every Austen novel has a clergyman character who isn't particularly devout. But here's how Lasky describes it: "There was only one profession for a lazy, mediocre student like Charles, Dr. Darwin decided — the clergy."

Then, later, Lasky gives us this passage:

Even though Darwin believed in change, that did not mean that he did not believe in God or a Creator. He would later write in reply to a question about his religion, "I do not believe in the Bible as divine revelation and therefore not in Jesus Christ as the Son of God." But he did believe in a Creator who had "originally breathed" life into the earliest forms of living things.

She adds a few pages later:

Charles, however, felt that his notions did not disprove God in the least but in fact made God more powerful. In one notebook, he had written that if species had changed over time, then who else but God could make things happen in such a marvelous way? And in another secret notebook, he wrote that we should praise God for this power.

I think that anyone reading this would be surprised to hear some of Darwin's words on the subject of belief from the autobiography he never expected to have published. Regarding Christianity:

Disbelief crept over me at a very slow rate, but was at last complete.

And regarding the origins of the world and the people in it:

I cannot pretend to throw the least light on such abstruse problems. The mystery of the beginnings of all things is insoluble by us, and I for one must be content to remain an Agnostic.

If Lasky thought that this sort of sentiment would be inappropriate in a book for young readers, why not simply leave Darwin's ideas about religion out altogether? If you aren't comfortable broaching a subject in front of a particular audience, just don't bring it up. Whether or not Darwin should or could be labeled an atheist is a matter for thoughtful debate; but his eventual lack of any active belief in a personal deity is undeniable.

The verdict: Get this book at a library so you can decide whether the merits outweigh the faults. Darwin's travels are gorgeously illustrated in this work, and when Lasky sticks to the facts her writing is a lot of fun to read. Do have other books about Darwin to fall back on in your studies — this book can act as a lively introduction to the man and his work. For a more accurate exploration of Darwin's religious belief or lack thereof, see Charles and Emma: The Darwins' Leap of Faith, by Deborah Heiligman, and/or one of the various available editions of Darwin's autobiography (reviewed in this article).

What Darwin Saw: The Journey That Changed the World, written and illustrated by Rosalyn Schanzer. National Geographic Society, 2009. Hardcover, $17.95

The author's name may be familiar to parents whose children have done some reading about the American Revolution — Schanzer is the author/illustrator of the outstanding George vs. George. As in that previous book, Schanzer combines her own prose with text in different colors and fonts to indicate direct quotes from primary sources. (She admits to "updating Darwin's spelling and punctuation slightly to make reading easier for young people," but it's hardly a hack job — she assumes, for instance, that these young people can understand that two hundred years ago, "today" was spelled "to-day.")

As the title states, this book focuses primarily (though by no means exclusively) on the voyage of the Beagle. Schanzer is always a voracious researcher; whether she's showing the reader exotic animals or old-fashioned clothing, the images are scrupulously accurate. They're also often deeply, sweetly humorous — the faces of the cows "rolled into the sea" by a great earthquake in South America are comically dismayed.

Readers of all ages will appreciate the two-page spread titled, "How Evolution Works." Schanzer summarizes and quotes Darwin's writing to offer an explanation that is both scientifically rigorous and accessible to non-scientists, not to mention beautifully illustrated.

Schanzer gives a brief but detailed account of the controversy arising after the publication of On the Origin of Species, including the famous debate between Bishop Samuel Wilberforce and "Darwin's bulldog," Thomas Huxley. When Wilberforce sneeringly asks whether Huxley claims his descent from a monkey through his grandfather or his grandmother, Huxley answers that he sees no shame in having monkey relations, but he'd be pretty embarrassed to be related to a man who used his intelligence to cover up the truth.

The only flaw in this book is its last paragraph, a dire environmentalist jeremiad. I'm disappointed that a book so recent and otherwise excellent should include the kind of message that has been shown to make young readers feel worried and helpless rather than inspired to rise up and make a difference. Speculations as to whether or not "human beings and all the other living things of today [will] vanish forever" draw the reader away from the subject and point of the book for no good reason. Other than that, this book is one of the best available on the subject of Darwin and his work.

Darwin, by Alice B. McGinty; illustrated by Mary Azarian. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2009. Hardcover, $18.00

Mary Azarian is the Caldecott Medal-winning illustrator of Snowflake Bentley. This book, though written by a different author, has much in common with that earlier work, even aside from Azarian's expressive woodcuts. The story is written in language simple enough to be accessible to very young children. In Snowflake Bentley, the author includes more details, in more challenging language, in boxes of text on each page. Similarly, McGinty adorns almost every page-spread with a quotation by or about Darwin. The quotes are in cursive, which is both visually pleasing and scholastically appropriate: a child who can read the handwriting is probably old enough to understand the flowery nineteenth-century prose. In this way, this book grows with the reader, offering more information as a child is ready for it.

I was impressed with the quotes McGinty chose to accompany her own text. She includes the entire list of the objections Darwin's father had to Darwin taking the job of naturalist on the Beagle ("3. That they must have offered to many others before me the place of Naturalist, 4. And from its not being accepted there must be some serious objection to the voyage or expedition"); a letter Darwin sent his sister speculating as to whether Darwin's old teacher Henslow will approve of the notes and specimens Darwin has been sending home in the course of his travels ("If he shakes his head in a disapproving manner, I shall then know that I had better at once give up science, for science will have given up me"); a letter he sent to a scientist friend, over a decade before Origin was published ("I am almost convinced {quite contrary to the opinion I started with} that species are not {it is like confessing a murder} immutable..."); and, rather wrenchingly, a letter to Darwin from a "true-hearted old friend," saying how much he hated Origin ("I have read your book with more pain than pleasure").

McGinty handles Darwin's transition from reasonably devout youth to scientific agnostic with impressive ease. She ends her book with an inspiring message to young naturalists and a touching quote from Darwin himself on his own strengths and limitations. Darwin is a beautiful narrative, possibly the best introduction a young reader can have to the subject of the man and his work.

Who Was Charles Darwin? by Deborah Hopkinson; illustrated by Nancy Harrison. Grosset & Dunlap, 2005. Paperback, $4.99

Books in the Who Was series are reliably good; this volume is no exception. Hopkinson makes every word in her small biography count. She enjoys the seeming contradictions of Darwin's life and personality: a homebody most famous for his five-year voyage; a "genius" who might memorize a poem, but would promptly forget it two days later.

I was delighted by this passage:

People have always wondered how life on Earth began. When Charles Darwin lived, most people in Europe and America believed God created the entire world in six days, just as it says in the Bible.

"In Europe and America" — wonderful. A culturally significant hunk of the planet, certainly; but it's brilliant of Hopkinson to point out, as history books often forget to, that this portion of the population isn't the whole world.

In spite of working within the strict word-count limitations that the series presents, Hopkinson pleasantly surprised me by offering some facts I hadn't seen in any of my other books about Darwin. The page about "Surgery in Darwin's Time" is not graphic or gory — quite a feat in itself, by the way — and mentions that doctors tried all sorts of things to deaden the pain during operations. "Sometimes they hit patients to knock them unconscious." A rough concept, but with such lively language, one's impulse is to smother a giggle rather than to cringe.

Later, Hopkinson quotes Darwin as saying, in regard to the seasickness he never conquered, "I hate every wave of the ocean."

Hopkinson is the only writer I've seen so far who presents the infamous beetle incident in its entirety. And she mentions that though the famous voyage of the Beagle lasted five years, Darwin was on board for only eighteen months of that.

She also manages to make some very difficult scientific concepts reasonably easy to grasp. Her double-page spread on the definition of species is very good, but I was especially impressed with her take on defining the word "theory." Unlike most writers, she acknowledges both definitions of the word, in a way that is both charming and informative:

The word theory has two meanings, which we can think of as "little-t theory" and "big-T theory." At this point, Charles's theory was a "little-t theory." It was a hunch that needed to be tested.

This leads directly to the fact that a scientific theory (such as evolution) is an idea that has stood up to repeated tests. (This is deeply refreshing to anyone who's heard the "it's just a theory" argument one time too many.) Hopkinson goes on to explain, "A ‘big-T' theory is a group of ideas, rules, or principles that explains why or how something happens."

I adored the fact that the end of this book offers side-by-side timelines: one of Darwin's life, one of the world. How wonderful to be able to see that Beethoven was composing his 9th symphony when Darwin was a teenager, that Webster's Dictionary was published three years before he was born, and that Jean Bernard Léon Foucault measured the speed of light just a few years after On the Origin of Species was published. Hopkinson also includes the British Factory Act on this timeline — the one in which a child's workday is limited to ten hours.

This excellent and inexpensive book should be on every homeschooler's shelf.

Young Charles Darwin and the Voyage of the Beagle, by Ruth Ashby; 112 pages. Peachtree Publishers, 2009. Hardcover, $12.95

Outstanding. The story is presented in clear language, accessible without any talking down. Ashby focuses on the fascinating, giving an unforgettable portrait of a man and his culture.

Parents should be aware that although Ashby does not gratuitously dwell on violent or intense events and situations, she does not shy away from them. Her goal is clearly to ground her story in solid cultural context. In relating why Darwin did poorly in medical school, she explains:

In those days, before anesthetics or effective pain-killing medications, patients were strapped down and operated on while they were still awake. Doctors cut quickly to reduce the stress, but patients often died on the operating table anyway.

Ashby also gives an account of a runaway slave who threw herself off a cliff rather than be taken back into captivity. She describes "the brutal side of naval life" that Darwin encountered when he started on his long-anticipated voyage: shortly after the Beagle set sail, four men were sentenced by the captain to 134 lashes apiece. "The sailors' screams as the whip ripped open their backs" combined with Darwin's seasickness to make him briefly wonder what he'd been thinking in undertaking such a voyage.

The most disturbing incident Ashby relates is a story Darwin heard in South America about an expedition launched by the Argentinean government against a native tribe. The adults were murdered, the children kidnapped to be sold into slavery:

Most shocking to Darwin was learning that the soldiers were slaughtering all Indian women over the age of twenty "in cold blood."... It was necessary, came the matter-of-fact answer. He told Darwin that the women had too many children. And, after all, he added, the orders from the Argentinean government were to "exterminate all the Indians."

There is as much science as there is history in this work. Zoology, geology, and even medical science (supper on the Beagle included "fruits like apples and lemons to ward off scurvy") are skillfully presented and explained. Darwin's own words are sprinkled liberally throughout the text — mainly quotations from The Voyage of the Beagle — giving the reader an appreciation for Darwin the writer as well as Darwin the explorer and scientist.

This book is well written, painstakingly accurate, and a riveting read.

Continued in issue #7