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Reviewed by:
  • The Cambridge Companion to the “Origin of Species,”
  • W. F. Bynum (bio)
The Cambridge Companion to the “Origin of Species,” edited by Michael Ruse and Robert J. Richards; pp. xxvii + 395. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009, £45.00, £16.99 paper, $90.00, $28.99 paper.

Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species (1859) occupies a remarkable place in the history of science. No other scientific work of comparable standing was written for a general readership. No other has had quite the widespread impact, been so frequently translated, or is so easily available today in bookshops. Perhaps the nearest equivalent in diffusion and availability would be Sigmund Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams (1900). Freud’s insights have been assimilated into popular culture, but his thoughts no longer guide scientific research. Darwin still inspires scientists in a vast array of disciplines. His star continues to wax, while Freud’s has waned. Despite the differing historical fortunes of their respective enterprises, however, Darwin and Freud share one similarity. The twin questions “Do you believe in evolution?” and “Do you believe in psychoanalysis?” have a disturbing symmetry. It would not occur to a pollster to ask “Do you believe in gravity?” or “Do you believe that the blood circulates?”.

Evolution does not command the widespread assent that other scientific theories with equivalent supporting evidence enjoy. More than three decades ago, Theodosius Dobzhansky wrote “Nothing in Biology Makes Sense Except in the Light of Evolution” (American Biology Teacher 35 [1973]), and nothing in biology has happened since to dilute the force of his stark claim. Instead, molecular biology and modern genomics provide even more sophisticated tools for investigating the evolutionary process and for understanding the filial relationships of living organisms.

Both the power of its argument and the controversy surrounding its conclusions have combined to make the Origin one of the most written-about [End Page 460] books in modern culture. It is thus an obvious choice for a Cambridge Companion volume, most of which are concerned with topics far removed from science (there is a Cambridge Companion to Bob Dylan). Science has been sparsely covered in the Cambridge Companions, although Galileo, Isaac Newton, and Darwin himself have volumes devoted to them. A few books—Leviathan (1651) and An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690) among them—have been singled out for concentrated treatment. With Darwin already a general Companion, does his great book deserve yet another series of essays?

Commercial considerations aside (Darwin published his book in 1859 when he was fifty years old, so we get two goes at celebrating him in 2009), I think that the answer can be affirmative. There are three reasons why this volume is a real contribution to the overcrowded field of Darwin studies. First, the editors have assembled an impressive group of contributors, including a few younger Darwinists who have previously published little but have something new to say. Assistant professors here rub shoulders with scholars like Gillian Beer and John Hedley Brooke, recipients—like both of the editors—of endowed chairs. The mix of established and newer scholars works well, and the volume as a whole is improved by the fact that the papers were collectively discussed before publication.

The book’s second strength lies in its balance between what Darwin actually said in his book and its later reverberations. Two-thirds of the chapters focus on the ideas and arguments expounded in the Origin itself. Individual chapters explicate Darwin’s use of geographical distribution, geology, embryology, palaeontology, and botany: the authors’ brief was obviously to analyse what Darwin said, what he had read and investigated himself, and how he used these disciplines in constructing his theory. His more familiar ideas, such as the relationship between artificial and natural selection, and descent with variation, are also scrutinised, and Robert Olby tackles the difficult problem of Darwin’s knowledge and use of inheritance in an era when the subject was poorly understood. Darwin knew that heredity (what later was called genetics) was a bit of a black hole in science. He also knew, and explicitly stated, that his theory was compatible with any theory of heredity. It required only that...

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