At six foot even, Charles Darwin was not a towering figure physically—especially compared to his father Robert Darwin and his father’s father Erasmus Darwin, who were not only taller but also immensely obese. But his importance to science is so great that his biographers often have erected outsized monuments in response: Janet Browne’s magnificent biography occupies two volumes (Charles Darwin: Voyaging, 1995, and Charles Darwin: The Power of Place, 2002) and more than 1200 pages. Such a compendious treatment, which allots no fewer than six pages just to Darwin’s collection of photographs, is not for everyone, though, and J. David Archibald’s Charles Darwin is a marvelous alternative for anyone seeking a concise, accurate, and readable guide to the life and works of the great naturalist.A distinguished paleobiologist at San Diego State University, Archibald turned in his retirement to the history of biology, writing Aristotle’s Ladder, Darwin’s Tree: The Evolution of Visual Metaphors for Biological Order (2014), Origins of Darwin’s Evolution: Solving the Species Puzzle Through Time and Place (2017), and Charles Darwin: A Reference Guide to His Life and Works (2018). Clearly Darwin was never far from his mind! His new biography (published in a series of short critical biographies of various important cultural figures) consists of a preface, eleven chapters that proceed in a straightforward chronological order, and endnotes and a bibliography; unfortunately, there is no index. The text is appealingly punctuated by dozens of black-and-white illustrations.Understandably, there are no surprises in the narrative, which dutifully follows Darwin from his birth in Shrewsbury in 1802 to Edinburgh to Cambridge, then around the world on the Beagle, and back to London, Down House, and finally Westminster Abbey, where he was buried in 1882. But Archibald’s choice of what topics to address is judicious, his transitions are effectively managed, and his sense of pacing and emphasis is excellent. He consistently presents both the historical and the scientific issues concisely and clearly. Especially worthwhile is his discussion of Darwin’s often overlooked taxonomical work on barnacles (occupying the bulk of chapter 6), although he overexplains the delightful anecdote of Darwin’s son George asking a playmate, “Where does your father do his barnacles?” (emphasis mine).Archibald takes the opportunity to debunk a handful of legends about Darwin, including Lady Hope’s claim that he recanted evolution on his deathbed. It is therefore surprising that he writes, in the same context of Darwin’s religious views, that “the death of his much beloved ten-year-old daughter Annie in 1851 was the final straw for his religious beliefs” (p. 185), a claim itself plausibly challenged as legendary in “The Annie Hypothesis,” a 2012 paper in the journal Centaurus by John van Wyhe (who endorsed Archibald’s book) and Mark J. Pallen. Otherwise, ignoring a handful of inconsequential errors (for example, the description of the Scottish lawyer-turned-geologist Charles Lyell as Scottish on p. 7 but English on p. 74), the book is highly reliable.Archibald’s biography is vastly superior to Paul Johnson’s Darwin: Portrait of a Genius (2012) and A. N. Wilson’s Charles Darwin: Victorian Mythmaker (2017)—both of which are unreliable, tendentious, and shoddy—but on a par with David Quammen’s The Reluctant Mr. Darwin (2006); Adrian Desmond, James Moore, and Janet Browne’s Charles Darwin (2007, reprinting their entry in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 2004); and Tim M. Berra’s Charles Darwin: The Concise Story of an Extraordinary Man (2009). But Archibald’s is the most up-to-date of these, even noting the theft of Darwin’s Notebooks B (with the famous “I think” tree diagram) and C, which was not revealed until 2020. Thankfully, a future biographer will be able to add that the notebooks were returned in March 2022.
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