On the origin of species

Charles Darwin, 1809-1882

Book - 2008

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Subjects
Published
New York, NY : Sterling 2008.
Language
English
Main Author
Charles Darwin, 1809-1882 (-)
Other Authors
David Quammen, 1948- (-)
Edition
Illustrated edition
Physical Description
xii, 544 pages : illustrations (chiefly color), maps, portraits, genealogical tables ; 26 cm
Bibliography
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN
9781402756399
Contents unavailable.
Review by Choice Review

Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species has been published again, in a new illustrated edition designed to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the Origin's initial publication. There were a total of six editions published while Darwin was still alive; the publisher and Quammen, a natural history writer who superbly edited the work, selected the text from the first edition because they felt it was the "freshest, the most dramatic and daring and consequential of all the versions." This statement could be challenged since the second through sixth editions contain Darwin's "Historical Sketch," written after he received criticism for not giving his predecessors proper credit in the initial edition, and the sketch attempted to address this problem. The illustrations are wonderful, containing beautiful paintings and prints from Darwin's time, some unusual photographs including one of Darwin's mother, Susannah Wedgwood Darwin, and illustrations and photographs of many organisms, from the 19th century as well as from the present. They will allow Darwin's epic work to come alive for those outside the field of natural history and the history of science, and encourage them to read this book. Summing Up: Highly recommended. All levels of academic, professional, and general readers. J. S. Schwartz emeritus, CUNY College of Staten Island

Copyright American Library Association, used with permission.
Review by New York Times Review

A kid-friendly guide to great art, an illustrated update of 'The Jungle Book,' a travel book for fearless young explorers and more. ONE OF THE more rewarding parts of parenting has to be watching your kids take to something with the kind of ferocity you might've forgotten was possible - whether it's playing center midfield or mastering a sonata, or obsessing over every last variety of shark species. The most obvious step to igniting or sustaining that passion is, obviously, handing them a book - preferably a large, lovely, immersive book to get lost in over long vacation days. YOU KNOW THE KID who can conjure an entire imaginary world by animating, say, the sugar packets she finds at the restaurant table? That one will thank you when you put any volume of MY BIG WIMMELBOOK (The Experiment, 16 pp. each, $12.95; ages 2 to 5), written and illustrated by Stefan Lohr and Max Walth, in front of her. Picture Richard Scarryesque, diorama-like spreads with a hint of "Where's Waldo" junior detective. The combination should encourage long contemplative sit-downs that will make any parent's heart sing. Similar to Scarry's famous village-wide cross-sections, Wimmelbook scenes are teeming with subscenes and silly minutiae. A beach-andocean spread in "Animals Around the World," which presumably takes place near Australia, shows crabs scurrying up the sand, cartoonish whales and squid swimming through the bottom of the page, airplanes and blimps flying among sea gulls and messenger birds (holding envelopes in their beaks), and a few hapless characters we meet at the beginning with instructions to find them on every page. (Oh no! Poor Stuart getting bitten by a crab!) Originally published in Germany - where Wimmelbooks are a standard part of young childhood - the four large-format board-book volumes that hit the States this year are "Cars and Things That Go," "On the Farm," "At the Construction Site" and "Animals Around the World." LIKE ALL THE BEST children's books, A HISTORY OF PICTURES FOR CHILDREN (Abrams, 128 pp., $24.99; ages 10 to 14), written by the artist David Hockney and the critic Martin Gayford, with illustrations by Rose Blake, is as interesting for adults as it is for their charges. It turns out that in addition to painting California pools, Hockney has a giftfor communicating his kidlike enthusiasm for works of art that many of us have seen so many times we don't really see them anymore. "I have no idea how he did it!" he writes about the deep shadows on the Mona Lisa as part of a larger discussion on light. Or of his own work: "Painting water is a great challenge - but it's a nice problem!" Or, when describing his experience watching Disney's "Pinocchio" frame by frame: "When I noticed how it was done, I was astonished. There are passages that look like Chinese art and Japanese prints, with white sea foam and swirling waves. . . . It's fantastic." Indeed, one of the more fun parts about this book is Hockney and Gayford's ability to integrate so many facets of pop culture into the discussion; just try to read about that "Pinocchio" scene without rushing to YouTube to see what he's talking about. Geared toward tweens and early teens, the book jampacks information on every spread, but everything is broken down into digestible chunks. It's the kind of book you want lying around in the TV room, welcoming kids to dip in and out or just flip through and familiarize themselves with some of the most famous works of art in history. IT'S NO SECRET that the fastest way to a kid's heart is with the words "Let me tell you a story." Add a layer of unexpectedness to that promise, and you've got the winning formula for Atlas Obscura, the online magazine dedicated to uncovering the most wondrous places on earth. THE ATLAS OBSCURA EXPLORER'S GUIDE FOR THE WORLD'S MOST ADVENTUROUS KID (Workman, 110 pp., $19.95; ages 9 to 12), written by Dylan Thuras and Rosemary Mosco and illustrated by Joy Ang, offers brief, kid-friendly true tales about some of the more fascinating man-made and natural spectacles across the world. Kids can read about 100 off-the-map places to visit, including the Russian town of Oymyakon, the coldest inhabited place on earth, where schools don't close unless the temperature drops to 62 below zero. Or the German amusement park built in an abandoned nuclear power plant. Or the underwater ruins of an Egyptian coastal town that disappeared 2,300 years ago, and which archaeologists are digging up temple by temple, treasure by treasure. This one is perfect for vacations and long road trips. YEAH, WE KNOW, there's an app for that - many in fact - but if the point is to curb the screen time, Sara Gillingham's SEEING STARS: A Complete Guide to the 88 Constellations (Phaidon, 213 pp., $24.95; ages 7 to 10) has as good a shot as anything for teaching your kid how much there is to see if you just look up. Quite literally. The book organizes the 88 official constellations into two sections: "ancient" (constellations first recorded thousands of years ago) and "modern" (those identified during the age of exploration, 1500-1700). Every spread is dedicated to one constellation and includes how-to-find information (assuming you live in the right hemisphere, which it tells you too); a full-page image of its connectthe- dot shape rendered in a celestially inspired teal-navy-gold palette; and the stories (mythological or historical) behind those shapes and clusters. "Stars are not only beautiful to look at," Gillingham reminds us. They once helped farmers figure out planting seasons, guided explorers and travelers, and, most crucially for our purposes today, offered inspiration to retell stories and legends and make sense of a mysterious otherworld. "The stories can still develop and change, as they have over thousands of years," she writes. "You, too, can be a part of those stories." HERE'S ONE FOR the kid most likely to show up at the next March for Science (or for the kid you wish would join you there): Charles Darwin's ON THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES: Young Reader's Edition (Atheneum, 176 pp., $25.99; ages 10 and up), adapted by Rebecca Stefoff, with illustrations by Teagan White. Darwin's manifesto, first published in 1859, laid out his theory of natural selection, the idea that species changed over time to adapt to their surroundings, as opposed to being divinely created in present form. Because this theory was so world-rocking - to the scientific community and beyond - the original edition includes mountains of dense evidence. Stefoff's edition doesn't have to work so hard, and the result is a streamlined, simplified version, helped along by an introduction covering biographical information on Darwin - kids might be interested to know he was not a standout student). There are also boxes like "The Making of the Modern Dog," explaining how two radically different breeds within the same species, chihuahuas and Great Danes, came to be. MOST CHILDREN (and most parents) are more likely to have seen the Disney versions of "The Jungle Book" than to have read Rudyard Kipling's 19th-century story collection about Mowgli, a boy raised by wolves. But you don't have to be wellversed in either to enjoy INTO THE JUNGLE: Stories for Mowgli (Walker Books, 234 pp., $24.99; ages 8 to 11), written by Katherine Rundell and illustrated by Kristjana S. Williams, an oversize, richly illustrated, heirloom-quality book of origin stories for the characters who populated Mowgli's jungle world. Here is the lame ferocious tiger Shere Khan, whose anger, we learn, can be traced back to his abusive father; Baloo the bear, who became a champion for the smaller, lesser species by learning to speak their languages; Mowgli's wolf mother, Raksha, who saved her baby brother using the one-two punch of agility and words. Rundell has geared the book toward readers ages 8 to 11, but her lyrical words feel as though they were written to be read aloud in front of a fire in a slow, craggly voice: "A tiger has a very specific smell to a wolf. It smells of metal and heat and spit. It smells of take-care and stayaway." It's impossible not to imagine a room full of younger kids transfixed by the hypnotic action. If Rundell's storytelling doesn't do it for them, the illustrations surely will. Williams's richly drawn jungle scapes are equal parts gorgeous and haunting, an irresistible combination. JENNY ROSENSTRACH writes about books and food on her blog, Dinner: A Love Story. She is the author of three books, including, most recently, "How to Celebrate Everything."

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [July 11, 2019]
Review by Library Journal Review

As a milestone not only in the history of science but also in cultural history, On the Origin of Species belongs in every library, high school and above. Nature writer Quammen (The Reluctant Mr. Darwin) offers a gloriously illustrated and richly annotated volume, which testifies to the book's enduring legacy. Throughout the text, relevant sidebars from other of Darwin's writings, including his Autobiography, field notes from the HMS Beagle, and his myriad letters, are presented for their insight. Illustrations include historical images, such as sketches, woodcuts, and portraits of people and places, but also included are contemporary photographs of the flora and fauna that Darwin described. Between the contextual additions and the edifying illustrations, there is no comparable volume. For all libraries. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Chapter One Variation Under Domestication Causes of Variability--Effects of Habit--Correlation of Growth--Inheritance--Character of Domestic Varieties--Difficulty of distinguishing between Varieties and Species--Origin of Domestic Varieties from one or more Species--Domestic Pigeons, their Differences and Origin--Principle of Selection anciently followed, its Effects--Methodical and Unconscious Selection--Unknown Origin of our Domestic Productions--Circumstances favourable to Man's power of Selection WHEN WE look to the individuals of the same variety or sub-variety of our older cultivated plants and animals, one of the first points which strikes us, is, that they generally differ much more from each other, than do the individuals of any one species or variety in a state of nature. When we reflect on the vast diversity of the plants and animals which have been cultivated, and which have varied during all ages under the most different climates and treatment, I think we are driven to conclude that this greater variability is simply due to our domestic productions having been raised under conditions of life not so uniform as, and somewhat different from, those to which the parent species have been exposed under nature. There is, also, I think, some probability in the view propounded by Andrew Knight, that this variability may be partly connected with excess of food. It seems pretty clear that organic beings must be exposed during several generations to the new conditions of life to cause any appreciable amount of variation; and that when the organisation has once begun to vary, it generally continues to vary for many generations. No case is on record of a variable being ceasing to be variable under cultivation. Our oldest cultivated plants, such as wheat, still often yield new varieties: our oldest domesticated animals are still capable of rapid improvement or modification. It has been disputed at what period of life the causes of variability, whatever they may be, generally act; whether during the early or late period of development of the embryo, or at the instant of conception. Geoffroy St Hilaire's experiments show that unnatural treatment of the embryo causes monstrosities; and monstrosities cannot be separated by any clear line of distinction from mere variations. But I am strongly inclined to suspect that the most frequent cause of variability may be attributed to the male and female reproductive elements having been affected prior to the act of conception. Several reasons make me believe in this; but the chief one is the remarkable effect which confinement or cultivation has on the functions of the reproductive system; this system appearing to be far more susceptible than any other part of the organization, to the action of any change in the conditions of life. Nothing is more easy than to tame an animal, and few things more difficult than to get it to breed freely under confinement, even in the many cases when the male and female unite. How many animals there are which will not breed, though living long under not very close confinement in their native country! This is generally attributed to vitiated instincts; but how many cultivated plants display the utmost vigour, and yet rarely or never seed! In some few such cases it has been found out that very trifling changes, such as a little more or less water at some particular period of growth, will determine whether or not the plant sets a seed. I cannot here enter on the copious details which I have collected on this curious subject; but to show how singular the laws are which determine the reproduction of animals under confinement, I may just mention that carnivorous animals, even from the tropics, breed in this country pretty freely under confinement, with the exception of the plantigrades or bear family; whereas, carnivorous birds, with the rarest exceptions, hardly ever lay fertile eggs. Many exotic plants have pollen utterly worthless, in the same exact condition as in the most sterile hybrids. When, on the one hand, we see domesticated animals and plants, though often weak and sickly, yet breeding quite freely under confinement; and when, on the other hand, we see individuals, though taken young from a state of nature, perfectly tamed, long-lived, and healthy (of which I could give numerous instances), yet having their reproductive system so seriously affected by unperceived causes as to fail in acting, we need not be surprised at this system, when it does act under confinement, acting not quite regularly, and producing offspring not perfectly like their parents or variable. Sterility has been said to be the bane of horticulture; but on this view we owe variability to the same cause which produces sterility; and variability is the source of all the choicest productions of the garden. I may add, that as some organisms will breed most freely under the most unnatural conditions (for instance, the rabbit and ferret kept in hutches), showing that their reproductive system has not been thus affected; so will some animals and plants withstand domestication or cultivation, and vary very slightly--perhaps hardly more than in a state of nature. A long list could easily be given of 'sporting plants;' by this term gardeners mean a single bud or offset, which suddenly assumes a new and sometimes very different character from that of the rest of the plant. Such buds can be propagated by grafting, &c., and sometimes by seed. These 'sports' are extremely rare under nature, but far from rare under cultivation; and in this case we see that the treatment of the parent has affected a bud or offset, and not the ovules or pollen. But it is the opinion of most physiologists that there is no essential difference between a bud and an ovule in their earliest stages of formation; so that, in fact, 'sports' support my view, that variability may be largely attributed to the ovules or pollen, or to both, having been affected by the treatment of the parent prior to the act of conception. These cases anyhow show that variation is not necessarily connected, as some authors have supposed, with the act of generation. Seedlings from the same fruit, and the young of the same litter, sometimes differ considerably from each other, though both the young and the parents, as Mxller has remarked, have apparently been exposed to exactly the same conditions of life; and this shows how unimportant the direct effects of the conditions of life are in comparison with the laws of reproduction, and of growth, and of inheritance; for had the action of the conditions been direct, if any of the young had varied, all would probably have varied in the same manner. To judge how much, in the case of any variation, we should attribute to the direct action of heat, moisture, light, food, &c., is most difficult: my impression is, that with animals such agencies have produced very little direct effect, though apparently more in the case of plants. Under this point of view, Mr Buckman's recent experiments on plants seem extremely valuable. When all or nearly all the individuals exposed to certain conditions are affected in the same way, the change at first appears to be directly due to such conditions; but in some cases it can be shown that quite opposite conditions produce similar changes of structure. Nevertheless some slight amount of change may, I think, be attributed to the direct action of the conditions of life--as, in some cases, increased size from amount of food, colour from particular kinds of food and from light, and perhaps the thickness of fur from climate. Habit also has a deciding influence, as in the period of flowering with plants when transported from one climate to another. In animals it has a more marked effect; for instance, I find in the domestic duck that the bones of the wing weigh less and the bones of the leg more, in proportion to the whole skeleton, than do the same bones in the wild-duck; and I presume that this change may be safely attributed to the domestic duck flying much less, and walking more, than its wild parent. The great and inherited development of the udders in cows and goats in countries where they are habitually milked, in comparison with the state of these organs in other countries, is another instance of the effect of use. Not a single domestic animal can be named which has not in some country drooping ears; and the view suggested by some authors, that the drooping is due to the disuse of the muscles of the ear, from the animals not being much alarmed by danger, seems probable. There are many laws regulating variation, some few of which can be dimly seen, and will be hereafter briefly mentioned. I will here only allude to what may be called correlation of growth. Any change in the embryo or larva will almost certainly entail changes in the mature animal. In monstrosities, the correlations between quite distinct parts are very curious; and many instances are given in Isidore Geoffroy St Hilaire's great work on this subject. Breeders believe that long limbs are almost always accompanied by an elongated head. Some instances of correlation are quite whimsical; thus cats with blue eyes are invariably deaf; colour and constitutional peculiarities go together, of which many remarkable cases could be given amongst animals and plants. From the facts collected by Heusinger, it appears that white sheep and pigs are differently affected from coloured individuals by certain vegetable poisons. Hairless dogs have imperfect teeth; long-haired and coarse-haired animals are apt to have, as is asserted, long or many horns; pigeons with feathered feet have skin between their outer toes; pigeons with short beaks have small feet, and those with long beaks large feet. Hence, if man goes on selecting, and thus augmenting, any peculiarity, he will almost certainly unconsciously modify other parts of the structure, owing to the mysterious laws of the correlation of growth. The result of the various, quite unknown, or dimly seen laws of variation is infinitely complex and diversified. It is well worth while carefully to study the several treatises published on some of our old cultivated plants, as on the hyacinth, potato, even the dahlia, &c.; and it is really surprising to note the endless points in structure and constitution in which the varieties and subvarieties differ slightly from each other. The whole organization seems to have become plastic, and tends to depart in some small degree from that of the parental type. Any variation which is not inherited is unimportant for us. But the number and diversity of inheritable deviations of structure, both those of slight and those of considerable physiological importance, is endless. Dr Prosper Lucas's treatise, in two large volumes, is the fullest and the best on this subject. No breeder doubts how strong is the tendency to inheritance: like produces like is his fundamental belief: doubts have been thrown on this principle by theoretical writers alone. When a deviation appears not unfrequently, and we see it in the father and child, we cannot tell whether it may not be due to the same original cause acting on both; but when amongst individuals, apparently exposed to the same conditions, any very rare deviation, due to some extraordinary combination of circumstances, appears in the parent--say, once amongst several million individuals--and it reappears in the child, the mere doctrine of chances almost compels us to attribute its reappearance to inheritance. Every one must have heard of cases of albinism, prickly skin, hairy bodies, &c., appearing in several members of the same family. If strange and rare deviations of structure are truly inherited, less strange and commoner deviations may be freely admitted to be inheritable. Perhaps the correct way of viewing the whole subject, would be, to look at the inheritance of every character what ever as the rule, and non-inheritance as the anomaly. The laws governing inheritance are quite unknown; no one can say why the same peculiarity in different individuals of the same species, and in individuals of different species, is sometimes inherited and sometimes not so; why the child often reverts in certain characters to its grandfather or grandmother or other much more remote ancestor; why a peculiarity is often transmitted from one sex to both sexes, or to one sex alone, more commonly but not exclusively to the like sex. It is a fact of some little importance to us, that peculiarities appearing in the males of our domestic breed are often transmitted either exclusively, or in a much greater degree, to males alone. A much more important rule, which I think may be trusted, is that, whatever period of life a peculiarity first appears in, it tends to appear in the offspring at a corresponding age, though sometimes earlier. In many cases this could not be otherwise; thus the inherited peculiarities in the horns of cattle could appear only in the offspring when nearly mature; peculiarities in the silkworm are known to appear at the corresponding caterpillar or cocoon stage. But hereditary diseases and some other facts make me believe that the rule has a wider extension, and that when there is no apparent reason why a peculiarity should appear at any particular age, yet that it does tend to appear in the offspring at the same period at which it first appeared in the parent. I believe this rule to be of the highest importance in explaining the laws of embryology. These remarks are of course confined to the first appearance of the peculiarity, and not to its primary cause, which may have acted on the ovules or male element; in nearly the same manner as in the crossed offspring from a short-horned cow by a long-horned bull, the greater length of horn, though appearing late in life, is clearly due to the male element. Having alluded to the subject of reversion, I may here refer to a statement often made by naturalists--namely, that our domestic varieties, when run wild, gradually but certainly revert in character to their aboriginal stocks. Hence it has been argued that no deductions can be drawn from domestic races to species in a state of nature. I have in vain endeavoured to discover on what decisive facts the above statement has so often and so boldly been made. There would be great difficulty in proving its truth: we may safely conclude that very many of the most strongly-marked domestic varieties could not possibly live in a wild state. In many cases we do not know what the aboriginal stock was, and so could not tell whether or not nearly perfect reversion had ensued. It would be quite necessary, in order to prevent the effects of intercrossing, that only a single variety should be turned loose in its new home. Nevertheless, as our varieties certainly do occasionally revert in some of their characters to ancestral forms, it seems to me not improbable, that if we could succeed in naturalising, or were to cultivate, during many generations, the several races, for instance, of the cabbage, in very poor soil (in which case, however, some effect would have to be attributed to the direct action of the poor soil), that they would to a large extent, or even wholly, revert to the wild aboriginal stock. Whether or not the experiment would succeed, is not of great importance for our line of argument; for by the experiment itself the conditions of life are changed. If it could be shown that our domestic varieties manifested a strong tendency to reversion,--that is, to lose their acquired characters, whilst kept under unchanged conditions, and whilst kept in a considerable body, so that free intercrossing might check, by blending together, any slight deviations of structure, in such case, I grant that we could deduce nothing from domestic varieties in regard to species. But there is not a shadow of evidence in favour of this view: to assert that we could not breed our cart and race-horses, long and short-horned cattle, and poultry of various breeds, and esculent vegetables, for an almost infinite number of generations, would be opposed to all experience. I may add, that when under nature the conditions of life do change, variations and reversions of character probably do occur; but natural selection, as will hereafter be explained, will determine how far the new characters thus arising shall be preserved. From the Paperback edition. Excerpted from The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.