Book review: ‘The Genetic Book of the Dead’ by Richard Dawkins

Richard Dawkins’s The Blind Watchmaker was, many years ago, the first book I read about evolution. I enjoyed it immensely, even though I frequently found myself thinking, ‘Yes, but…’ as I was presented with Dawkins’s gene-centric view of the living world. That book led me to the essays of Stephen Jay Gould, whose views Dawkins frequently disparaged. Reading Gould turned me into the incorrigible Darwin nerd that I am. So Dawkins has plenty to answer for.

Dawkins’ latest book, The Genetic Book of the Dead, has the air of a finale about it, providing something of recap of themes raised in earlier books. I enjoyed the first six chapters immensely—not least because they cover similar ground to a long-pondered (and, at the rate I write, unlikely-to-be-realised) future book of my own. They also cover a number of topics also covered in my current work-in-progress, including the evolutionary history of whales, crustacean anatomy, and echolocation in bats.

In The Descent of Man, Darwin observed ‘Man still bears in his bodily frame the indelible stamp of his lowly origin’. In the first six chapters of The Genetic Book of the Dead, Dawkins explores what organisms’ current observable physical characteristics and behaviours tell us about their evolutionary histories. It’s wonderful stuff.

Dawkins continues this exploration in subsequent chapters, but places more emphasis on the sort of gene-centric interpretations that are his trademark. As in the old days, I often found myself thinking, ‘Yes, but…’ as I read Dawkins’s compelling prose. This is not to criticise gene-centric interpretations of evolutionary phenomena, which can provide genuine insights; it’s just that Dawkins often seems to jump through hoops to restrict himself to such interpretations—to keep ‘on brand’, so to speak—when less evangelically gene-centric interpretations might also provide useful insights—or at least be a little less convoluted.

But don’t let this minor criticism put you off. If The Genetic Book of the Dead is indeed Dawkins’s finale, it’s a damn fine conclusion to a writing career and well worth a read.

Side note: On a personal hobby-horse, I ought to commend the publishers of the British first edition of The Genetic Book of the Dead for printing it on excellent quality paper, presumably to do justice to artist Jana Lenzová’s copious illustrations. The paper quality of most British books is an abomination and national disgrace. It was a rare joy to handle a book of a physical quality that ought to come as standard, at least in hardbacks.