The Descent of Man as Sequel

The conventional wisdom regarding movie sequels is that they are rarely as good as the original. There are exceptions, of course, but I’ve found that rule a trustworthy one. I bring said rule up right now because I was struck by the degree to which Darwin positions The Descent of Man as a book that begins where On the Origin of Species left off. He does so in part by choosing to use the third sentence of his introduction to Descent to quote a line from the third to last page of Origin (“Light will be thrown on the origin of man and his history” [Origin 425]). This new book will pick up where the last one left off, goes the promise, it will expand that tiny, tantalizing sentence into a book-length explanation. Interestingly, the quote that finds its place in the end of Origin and the beginning of Descent is something of an echo of a line from the introduction to the earlier book, Darwin’s claim that the facts he amassed on his trip “seemed to me to throw some light on the origin of species” (11). Such is the natural, indeed inevitable path of Darwin’s inquiry—from the general (all species) to the specific (man). With that said, however, following the logic of the theory of evolution to discover its effects on one rather self-impressed species may be dangerous and controversial, but it’s not exactly suspenseful. Descent’s big idea—the theory of evolution via natural selection—has already been covered before the book reaches its first page. If the Darwin of Origin set a fuse, the Darwin of Descent is merely picking up the pieces after the bomb detonated.

Or at least that’s the narrative that Darwin is setting up in the introduction to the later work. But as Beth points out in her excellent post, Darwin’s attempts to position this later work as a foregone conclusion seems to be largely a rhetorical maneuver. While this maneuver may be useful in convincing readers that Darwin’s innovative work is a compendium of well-established and uncontroversial facts, it does not, however, serve as a means of selling the book or its importance. Similarly, Darwin’s talk in both introductions of amassing notes that he has to be “urged to publish” (Origin 11) or convinced that the time has come for their gentle reception (Descent) at first leaves the reader with the impression that these notes weren’t really as urgent as they might have been. In my opinion, however, Darwin is actually being rather savvy here, baiting the reader into saying with a gasp, “But my good Darwin, you don’t mean to suggest that had circumstances been slightly altered the world should never have seen these books?” Darwin’s suggestion that these books almost didn’t come into being bathes them in a sense of drama that seems at least partially artificial.

Regardless of whether or not the excessive humility displayed in these introductions serves to turn the reader off or whet the reader’s appetite, there’s no denying that The Descent of Man is a rather fascinating book. Indeed, while Origin may have the big idea, Descent has boozed-up monkeys, men tossing books with their foreheads, a picture of an Orangutan fetus, and much talk of pointy ears. And while he hasn’t exactly assembled a freak show here, Darwin has chosen examples that do seem a little more sensational than the pigeons that he used to open Origin. While I certainly see the value in discussing some of these rather peculiar cases, I do wonder why Darwin didn’t lead with examples of less spectacular parallels between monkey and man. Sure he begins with his most vivid examples, but are they really best suited to his purpose? Is his decision to use these examples a conscious attempt to excite and interest the reader? I fear I don’t know the answers, but I am glad that this class has led me to ask these kinds of questions when I look in a book of science writing. It was hard to break the habit of reading scientific writing for comprehension, of reading passively and justifying my refusal to engage with the writer by appealing to my scientific ignorance. Now, however, I have come to recognize that I can engage a Darwin on the literary and rhetorical ground on which I have some confidence. And, when I do so I am led to a final conclusion, that I am not bringing him to that terrain, but that he had one foot planted in it all along.