Gould's book was well written and easily comprehensible. A number of excellent points were discussed. However, I was disappointed by his total refutation of the Bell Curve. The degree that "g" measures this abstract controversial, concept of intelligence is the the degree that the conclusions in The Bell Curve are correct. If "g" does not exist or is not a valid measurement of intelligence, the foundation of the Bell Curve will be destroyed. But I have met people with 90 IQ's and other with 140+; there seems to be a difference in their ability to grasp concepts and figure out problems. If 100 people with 140+ IQ's and 100 people with < 90 IQ's were pited against one another to solve a complex problem, I believe the 140+ would win most of the time. Dr. Gould is professor at Harvard; how much exposure does he really have with low IQ individuals?

Bernstein and Murray avidly admit that IQ tests do err (testing error). And "g" may not be the best measure of intelligence, but IQ does seem to have some merit. Unfortunately, people are placing far, far too much importance on a simple number. "g" is just a rough (very blunt) estimate of intelligence. Ranking of people is impossible because the testing error as well as other factors that create too much mismeasurment AND the potential invalidity of IQ or "g." People should not pigeon-hole individuals with superior IQ's as "cognitively superior" or those with low IQ's as "cognitively inferior"--other factors besides IQ should be considered! But again, IQ does have some merit--the debate is how much.

Yes, disadvantaged classes and races is an issue with IQ (group differences). The Bell Curve is not primarily about that. Read the Bell Curve; the main theme is that people have different cognitive abilities. However, Hernstein and Murray briefly discuss potential group differences, but the author reminds the reader of the overlap between groups and more important within group variance. Hernstein and Murray warn that people should not be judged by what group they belong to. In addition, other factors may explain group differences, which Gould explicates--in my opinion, Hernstein and Murray do not discuss the group differences adequately. But I still agree with The Bell Curve that certain people are more intelligent than other individuals (I disagree with the group differences). Read both "The Mismeasurement of Man" and "The Bell Curve" Both of them have great arguments for both sides.

I agree with the grad student whose review recommends reading both this book and The Bell Curve. Gould does an excellent job shooting down work that claims to find racial differences in intelligence. However, that is not the same thing as proving that those differences don't exist. But Gould superbly points out the degree to which preconceptions can influence "science," even subconsciously, and points out the need for a generous dose of skepticism when research purports to divine the intelligence (or cognitive) ability of groups. This skepticism should be heightened when the researcher goes beyond attempting to identify measurable aspects of intelligence and relate them to groups, and takes the additional step of suggesting social policy.

Steven J. Gould is most famous among the general public for his collections of essays from his long Natural History series, "This View of Life". But the best of Gould's writing is perhaps to be found in his single-theme books. And The Mismeasure of Man is arguably the finest among them. The volume is about the long history of the search for scientific justification of racism, and the many faux pas that science has committed when it comes to the study of human intelligence. The 1996 edition of the classic 1981 book also contains some interesting addenda: "Critique of the Bell Curve", and "Three Centuries' Perspective on Race and Racism" (as well as a new introduction), just in case you were not convinced by the arguments lined out in the main text. The Mismeasure can conceptually be divided in two parts: the first deals with the misapplication of measurements of the human body (cranial capacity and facial features), the second one is concerned with the mind (IQ and generalized intelligence). In both cases, Gould follows the same approach that has been so successful in some of his technical opuses, such as Ontogeny and Phylogeny: he tracks the history of a discipline or scientific question, highlights the contributions and discusses the motives of the major players, while simultaneously plunging into the technical aspects of the science behind the problem. So, for example, in order to find out why measuring the cranial capacity of the human head does not tell you much about intelligence, we are introduced to biologists of the caliper of Louis Agassiz (Gould currently holds his chair at Harvard), Samuel George Morton, Francis Galton (Darwin's cousin), and - of course - Paul Broca, the father of craniometry. It is indeed fascinating to find out that theories of the origin of human races actually preceded Charles Darwin and evolutionary thinking, with the "polygenic" school apparently providing solid basis for racism: if the term "human" comprises different species, it is only natural that we rank them according to their biological worth (needless to say, the "objective" ranking invariably ended up putting the author's race - and gender - in pole position, and somewhat ahead of everybody else). The supporters of the opposing theory of "monogenism" were by no means kinder to other races, though. Their argument was that there was only one Adam, and that every human race descended from him, and degenerated to a greater or lesser extent (again, you guess who degenerated more and who the least). Regardless of the premise, all we needed to know according to craniometrists was the size of the brain (as estimated by the internal volume of the cranium) and we will know how intelligent (and thereby "worthy") any individual or race really is. Now, one could object that there is indeed a good correlation between cranial capacity and what we intuitively think of as intelligence among animals. After all, biology textbooks report diagrams showing that carnivores have larger brains than herbivores, regardless of body size. And the accompanying explanation makes sense: carnivores need larger brains because they have to process more information and more quickly, they have to face a larger variety of situations, and be able to make a larger number of vital decisions. In other words, they need to be smarter. Gould acknowledges this, but quickly - and correctly - points out that variation across species does not have to have the same cause and meaning as variation within species. He illustrates this with an array of definitely intelligent people whose brain sizes covered almost the whole gamut displayed by non-pathological individuals. However, this is indeed one of the troublesome aspects of this book and, I dare say, of Gould's writing in general. He dismisses contrary evidence or arguments so fast that one gets the impression of seeing a magician performing a trick. One cannot avoid the feeling of having being duped by the quickness of the magician's movement, instead of having observed a genuine phenomenon. In this particular instance, I can vouch for Gould as a biologist, but I'm not so sure that the general public is willing to trust him on his word. After having dismissed both craniometry and the aberrant work of Cesare Lombroso on the anthropological stigmata of criminals, Gould moves on to his main target: IQ and intelligence testing. IQ testing was originally introduced by the French psychologist Alfred Binet with the intention of spotting children who were falling behind in the curriculum, so that teachers could pay particular attention to them. Alas, such a noble intent soon fell victim to the human tendency of ranking everything, and led to an astounding series of "scientific" enterprises characterized by deep racist overtones. H.H. Goddard saw the feeble-minded (the technical term being "moron") as a menace to society; we should care for him, but we should not allow him to reproduce. One of the ghastly consequences of the eugenic movement in the US was the enactment of immigration restriction laws based on perceived racial inferiority, and the actual forced sterilization of individuals deemed genetically inferior: for a few years the United States teetered on the brink of the same precipice over which Nazi Germany readily dove around the same time. One of the chief obstacles to the use of IQ scores is that there are several ways to devise an IQ test, and the results of different tests are not always congruent when performed on the same subjects. But if we have to use a battery of tests, and then somehow weigh their discrepancies, we lose one major attraction of IQ testing: the ability of ranking human beings on a simple, uni-linear scale of worth. Charles Spearman and Cyril Burt set out to accomplish the feat of reducing multiple-tests complexity once again to a single magical number. Burt was a disciple of Spearman (himself one of the founding fathers of modern statistics) and later claimed to have made contributions to the theory of factor analysis which where in fact Spearman's. Gould plunges into one of the best explanations I have ever come across of the multivariate statistical technique of factor analysis, fundamental to both Spearman's and Burt's work. This allows the reader to gain some understanding of a very important tool in modern biostatistics (one that Gould himself uses for his own technical research), while at the same time being able to follow Gould in highlighting the fundamental problems which Spearman and Burt incurred. Simply put, factor analysis is a statistical technique based on the rotation of orthogonal axes in multivariate (i.e., multidimensional) space. This reduces a complex data set (say, made of the results of ten different IQ tests) to a manageable number of linear combinations of the original variables. This smaller set of dimensions identifies the principal "factors" which explain the correlation structure in the original data. Spearman's suggestion was that all IQ tests have one principal factor in common. That is, the scores on each test are correlated to each other, because they all reflect one underlying quantity, which Spearman named "g", or general intelligence. Spearman therefore provided one of the two pillars of the eugenic movement: there seemed indeed to be one way to rank individuals by their intelligence with the use of one number: this was the score on the g-factor, instead of the score on any of the available IQ tests. Burt's major achievement was a supposed confirmation of the second fundamental piece of the puzzle eugenic puzzle: his studies of genetically identical twins suggested a high heritability (incorrectly read as a high level of genetic determination) of intelligence. So, not only do individuals differ in intelligence, but this is easy to measure and genetically determined. Environment, and with it education and social welfare, cannot alter the innate difference among individuals, genders, and races. QED Well, not really.

Despite the trouble Shermer takes to show how thinking can go wrong [emotive words, the ad hominem attack, etc.], and to berate hypocrites and people with faith in science, he seems completely unaware of these same traits in himself. What's particularly telling is that he mentions several times that he had previously been a "sucker" for numerous pseudoscientific claims, new age nonsense, and the like. He describes his change to skepticism as occuring suddenly, on a single day in 1983. Whether or not this is "artistic license", I couldn't say, but it certainly didn't encourage me to think highly of his capacity for logical thinking. It seems to me that he has simply exchanged other faiths for a new one: Science [as much as he protests that science isn't a subject but a method; it certainly should be only a method, but is unfortunately deified by many -- apparently Shemer included].

The book should more appropriately be titled "Weird Things People Believe", since there is very little information about the psychological, historical, sociological and socio-economic factors that cause or facilitate the belief or need for religion, myth/fairy tale, urban legend, etc. In fact, he seems more to gloat over his imagined intellectually superior position than to offer any useful information -- and in the case of Holocaust deniers, any actual evidence. He produces no references [though he does include a bibliography], and leans heavily on emotive words and a congratulatory "aren't you so smart not to believe this bunk?" attitude.

I did enjoy several anecdotal passages, and the explanation of ESP and the law of averages was very educational. His "I Was Abducted By Aliens" anecdote in particular is quite funny and certainly worth a read. I find myself quite skeptical of many things, and having an interest in sociology I was hoping for something a little more scholarly and thought-out. "Why People Believe.." just didn't deliver. I quit reading about 2/3 the way through, after I decided the frustration I was experiencing and the lack of any real substance didn't warrant completion of the book.

Fledgling and veteran skeptics alike are familiar with the major authors of the field, among them: Carl Sagan, Martin Gardner, and Michael Shermer. Shermer, the publisher of the quarterly magazine Skeptic, possesses a breezy, affable writing style well suited to presenting skepticism to the public. Most chapters of "Why People Believe Weird Things" contain entertaining anectdotes and observations, accomodating readers without insulting their intelligence.

However, those looking for deeper insights into human psychology or skeptical tenets will not find them here. That alone would not be a major fault in this book, but the fact that some passages attempt to construct models of human behavior err on the side of presumption. (One example in particular concerns the cyclical nature of human history: the model is neatly and well-thought out, but sheds little light on its subject). Nevertheless, Shermer's passion for skepticism shows throughout, and the book remains a great read for those interested in the field.

The title is what attracted me at first; who doesn't want to know the answer to that question? I found the first half of the book to be informative and interesting, particularly the section on the 25 faulty deductions that lead to the illogical.

I have two complaints, however. First, Shermer uses a tactic employed by many people who want you to believe what they believe: it's the old, "I used to believe THIS, but then I had a revelation, and now I believe THAT." I've read this in Christian fundamentalist literature, and it's a barely veiled attempt to get us all on the bandwagon. It sounds as contrived coming from a skeptic as it does from a "true believer."

Second, the section on Holocaust deniers was mediocre at best. I didn't know much about these revisionists beforehand and after reading this section I knew a little more, but I didn't understand them any better. It was actually arranged something like a rogues' gallery of revisionists, more of a "Who believes weird things" than "Why they believe it..."

I'd recommend this book for people interested in acquiring discrete tastes of controversial topics, but don't expect an answer to the question Shermer's title challenges us with. Perhaps that's why Shermer renamed his latest book from "Why People Believe in God" to "How We Believe." It's a different approach and maybe one that's easier to answer.

This book didn't really appeal to me as a work of historical fiction, didn't come across as realistic or even plausible.

Professors are not novelists. As accurate as this book might be, the writing is quite poor. It drags and there is very little plot, just a string of events. I'm sure he was a fine scholar.

A long time ago, in a small planet lying on the outskirts of the Milky Way, an intelligent species was fighting desperately for survival. Their world had been invaded by aliens, who were also extremely advanced creatures.

If you've ever read any Science Fiction or seen any Space Opera movie, this plot is very familiar. You probably didn't know that it actually happened in our own world, some 40,000 years ago: the locals were the Neanderthals, their world was Europe, and we were the invaders.

This is a fascinating book, written by a well known paleo-anthropologist and from the point of view of the Neanderthal., that delivers not only an excellent story, but also a plausible model for the extinction of the Neanderthals.

The only drawback, is that by reading the English edition, you will lose the fascinating prologue by Juan Luis Arsuaga (co director of the Atapuerca Project and renowned paleo-anthropologist) available with the Spanish edition. If you like Dance of the Tiger and you can read Spanish, make sure you read some of Arsuaga's books, like "La especie elegida", "El collar del Neandertal" or "Atapuerca. Un millón de años de historia", you'll love them.

Even though Björn Kurtén sets his plot in northern Europe, there are now proofs that the last Neanderthals lived in southern Europe (Southern Spain and Crimea). It's frightening to think that in those places, some not far away from where I live, a member of an intelligent species, very similar to us, once thought: I am the last of my kind, and now it is time to die...

Is it not odd that one of the most competent and serious of the seemingly endless number of Houghton Mifflin's "Best American Series" so far, in 2002, has but one other Amazon review three months after publication and after a holiday-advertising blitz? (I know Eggers' AMERICAN NONREQUIRED READING 2002 is supposed to seem whimsical and therefore attractive--but along with "Best American Recipes," I question Houghton Mifflin's sagacity. What's new for 2003--"Best American Greeting Cards"?)

I agree with the sole other Amazonian that this is far from the strongest volume in the series. Gould, in his last act of editing, admits in the introduction that he spent most of his time writing, not reading. Here, it seems his editorial judgment was more swayed by authorial track records and the Topic of the Moment (9-11) than by the enduring nature of the essays' prose itself. Or perhaps Gould simply had a tin ear with respect to style, so intrinsic to the success and timelessness of creative nonfiction.

Taste is personal, too. I concur with the other reviewer that Franzen's "My Father's Brain" and Vidal's "The Meaning of Timothy McVeigh" are lackluster essays--but unlike him, I wasn't bowled over by Delbanco's "The Countess of Stanlein Restored," about a cello's restoration.

My favorite essay by far was Mario Vargas Llosa's "Why Literature?" Filled with bon mots and wisdom, this essay is the one I found most enduring and worth rereading. "Good literature, while temporarily relieving human dissatisfaction, actually increases it, by developing a critical and nonconformist attotude toward life." This, and dozens of other quotable lines, made me sigh with recognition and underline/bracket the text.

My next favorite was Andrew Levy's portrait of Robert Carter III, "The Anti-Jefferson." I never had heard of Carter and was convinced by Levy that he should be better known and revered in American history.

My remaining favorites are as follow: Jacques Barzun's "The Tenth Muse," a critique of popular culture; Rudolph Chelminski's "Turning Point," my favorite of the many 9-11 essays, which focuses on the artist Philippe Petit, who tightrope-walked between the Twin Towers in 1974; Bernard Cooper's "Winner Take Nothing," about the writing life and father/son relationships; Atul Gawande's "Final Cut," about the dwindling popularity of autopsies; Sebastian Junger's "The Lion in Winter," about war reporting, the Taliban, and Afghanistan; Amy Kolen's "Fire," a disturbingly memorable exploration of the 1911 Triangle factory fire; Adam Mayblum's "The Price We Pay," a first-hand account of 9-11 which, despite its rawness, maintains vitality and relevance; Louis Menand's "College: The End of the Golden Age," an insightful critique of higher education in America; Danielle Ofri's "Merced," a poignant reflection by a physician; Darryl Pinckney's sociologically-astute "Busted in New York," about being jailed for pot smoking; Joe Queenen's brief and wry "Matriculation Fixation," about parental obsessions with childrens' educational paths; John Sack's illuminating "Inside the Bunker," which examines the psychology of Holocaust-deniers; and, finally, Penny Wolfson's haunting, impressionistic, poetic meditation on life, disability, and art entitled "Moonrise."

Six remaining essays go unmentioned. I found them ordinary. However, if you take this reviewer's word for it, there remains prose worth perusing in this less-than-stellar but still-worthwhile addition to a series worth perpetuating.

I had the false impression that the writing and thoughts in this year's Best American Essays would be overwhelmed by the events of September 11, but this book provides a lot of breadth and depth. Gould's selections are excellent; I can't think of a single essay here that does not have some kind of redeeming value. Jacques Barzun's The Tenth Muse and Mario Vargas Lhosa's "Why Literature?" are the requisite but eloquent pieces about the nature and necessity of art. Danielle Ofri's "Merced" is a standout piece: about how a young doctor learns about the fallibility of medicine through a patient's unsolvable illness. I disagree with the reviewers here who found Gore Vidal's "The Meaning of Timothy McVeigh" unworthy of inclusion in the volume; the essay shows another view on the perpetrator of the Oklahoma City bombing that warrants us to consider why some people commit acts of terror, though the piece ultimately fails when Vidal utilizes tired and trite anti government rhetoric. Nicholas Delblanco's "The Countess of Stanlein Restored" is an absorbing history of the origins and restoration of a Stradivarius cello. Adam Mayblum's "The Price We Pay" does not have the polish and pyrotechnics we expect from some of these essayists, but his straightforward telling of his escape from the World Trade towers on September 11 makes for a harrowing recounting of the events.

This year's installment of the Best American Essays is a great selection (but then aren't they always). It was one of the last projects Stephen Jay Gould finished before he died last May. Of course there are all kinds of arguments that can be made for and against certain selections being included and not included.

Three essays really got to me as the best of the bunch (and essays that I imagine I'll reread again and again in the future). The first is Franzen's essay on his father's decline in Alzheimer's. It's a touching essay that is well-written, humorous at times, and helps to understand the 'human' reaction to the disease. The other essays is Bernard Cooper's "Winner Take Nothing" which is a very funny interplay between a father and son who don't understand each other. I remember reading it in GQ, and thinking that this essay surely would be selected for the Best American series. Nicholas Delbanco's essay "The Countess of Stanlein Restored" is a wonderfully written essay that covers the history of violin making and the restoration of one of the more famous violins, and anyone who loves music will love this essay.

Barbara Ehrenreich has an essay discussing her ordeal with breast cancer, and what makes this essay so good is that it isn't all the hopefulness and joy you find in others of its type, rather she deals with the real emotions she felt-the bitterness. And with an almost tongue-in-cheek humor. Sebastion Junger has his 'typical' style essay dealing with the fight for freedom in Afganistan. It's well-written, like his work tends to be. Andrew Levy's essay on Robert Carter III shows why we don't know who Carter is-he just isn't quite interesting enough to write about. There's also an interesting essay by Danielle Ofri on one incident in her medical school training (this essay has convinced me to pick up her collection of memoir essays on med school). There's a great essay by Darryl Pinckney dealing with a middle-aged, middle-class black man getting busted for marijuana possession. It's funny and frightening at the same time. Typical New Yorker material though. Gore Vidal has an essay on McVeigh-which is at times well-written, but at other times borders on the paranoid and juvenile. It is an interesting read though. And the final essay of the collection is Wolfson's "Moonrise" which is another autobiographical essay dealing with the illness of a relative-this one of her son. It's a touching essay that fills the reader with sadness and joy.

Some of the weaker essays are: Jacques Barzun's "The Tenth Muse" which is part biography of Clifton Fadiman and part question on culture, but doesn't ever say anything. And there are the group of obligatory 9-11essays, though not the best I've seen. Amy Kolen has an extremely dull essay, "Fire," which I found so boring, I couldn't even finish it.

I was surprised that this book came recommended from an animal rights perspective. I must admit I haven't taken the time to read it from cover to cover, but so far, it has done NOTHING to make me believe that animals have emotions - and I believe animals experience emotions. For instance, they show a whale's genitalia protruding from the water - and call this love? Or they show a camel sitting down with a grimace, and state "Camels often seem to have a sarcastic sneer on their faces, but this doesn't indicate hostility." Gee, thanks! Also tell a new mom that her baby isn't really smiling - it just has gas. The text part may be better on this book - but the pictures are lacking.

Marc Bekoff has brought together an outstanding collection of experts to share their experience with the broad and deep range of animal emotions. To me it shows that animals are more open and honest with their emotions than humans. The pictures alone can help us grow even more. This book brings Darwin's "The Expression of Emotions in Man and Animal" and The Animal Welfare Institute's "Animal Expressions" to a whole new audience. This book will please those humans who already enjoy animal emotions and will help those who need a push to grow.

This is a book full of colourful ideas and well-considered deductions that often gets lost in the details. The book's main problem is stylistic-- it would appear that it has not undergone the revisions and editing that are necessary for a book on the mass market. Its redundancy sometimes makes it a thicket to read (eg. see Chapter 3). It is too self-referential, self-congratulatory, and it pats itself on the back too much at times. And the digression into baseball and the decline of the .400 hitter is occasionally entertaining but is an obvious statement of statistics, and does not merit the pages that are devoted to it.

Still, the crux of this book is sound, and the reasoning is interesting. Gould revisits some of the ground that he'd examined in his earlier work with paleontology, the Burgess Shale of "Wonderful Life," the intriguing ruminations on the fossil record. Gould's thesis is that progress, at least in the sense of complexity, is due more to a statistical random walk than a pre-planned template that was inevitably bringing it about. This point is subtle, and it is crucial to realize that he is not making some kind of value judgement here. Some of the reviews below confuse the thesis-- Gould is not "knocking humanity off its pedestal" or attacking anthropocentric arguments, or showing that bacteria are somehow superior (though his at-length examination of their features is quite fascinating). He is, furthermore, not questioning the notion of progress, or denying the increase in complexity. What he's saying is simply that, beginning from a state of minimal complexity (bacteria), a number of random events will take place, some of which will indeed generate higher complexity, some of which won't. Natural selection does not necessarily demand higher complexity, rather, it merely demands a better fit to a local niche. Thus it is not essential that life in general become more complex, but some lineages certainly will, and since there is no apparent "maximal complexity" (comparable to the minimal limit at bacteria), those trendlines will be astonishing in their extent and capability. Thus the lineages that produce that progress will naturally attract greater interest by evolutionists, and while this is a trend, it is not an exclusive one. That's all. Higher animals will tend to be more complex, and he's not saying this makes them superior, nor does he claim that they are self-deceiving or inferior in some deeper sense; he is simply pointing out that the mechanisms for generating higher complexity, which he acknowledges shows a trendline, are different, more unpredictable, more uncertain, and more variable than are often surmised.

When the book avoids the verbal tangles that make it difficult in places, it's truly a joy to read. Just skim to get the general gist on which the thesis centres itself and come back to some of the more involved sections when you have more time to delve more deeply into the subtleties of the argument. It is, for all its flaws, an enjoyable collection of ideas from a proven author.

As a long time fan of Professor Gould's essays, I hoped that this full-length work would be equally entertaining and informative. I was not let down. "Full House" contains the author's usual combination of wit, insightful anecdotes, encyclopedic knowledge of biology/geology/paleontology, and wonderful literary style. The reading was all the more poignant in the light of Professor Gould's recent death, and I could not help but wonder if science will ever again have such a brilliant spokesman.

Rather than tackling a specific aspect of natural history, in "Full House" Gould strives to make a philosophical point about the way we (mis)understand systems: "The variation of a 'full house' or complete system should be treated as the most compelling 'basic' reality; averages and extreme values (as abstractions and unrepresentative instances respectively) often provide only partial, if not downright misleading, views of a totality's behavior" (p. 100). The full meaning and greater implications of this statement are difficult to understand at first reading, which is precisely why Gould has written an entire book (see comments below) on the subject.

To breath some life into this statistical idea, Gould discusses two main subjects: the disappearance of .400 batting averages from professional baseball, and the fallacy that evolution is inherently directed towards creating more complex organisms, with Man as the ultimate culmination. Baseball and evolution? Yes, these are admittedly disparate topics, but I liked the variety. After all, I believe the crux of this work is the general statement about our understanding of systems, not one system in particular. So be warned, if you're seeking a book strictly about biology or natural history, this is probably not the best choice.

Much of the criticism here on Amazon focuses on the book's unnecessary length and its redundancy. I must agree that there were several points at which Gould seems to be repeating himself. It feels like he had more to say than he could possibly fit into his usual essays, but not quite enough for an entire book. I wonder if he felt compelled (either by himself or maybe his publisher) to expand the work to at least 200 pages. Depending on your interest in the material, the length might be a real drawback, or simply a slight nuisance. I was not particularly bothered and finished the book in two days.

Even if you are not fully persuaded by Gould's argument, or if the book seems unnecessarily long, I hope you will enjoy the reading. Gould is (alas, was) a brilliant and engaging writer, in my humble opinion. The proper anecdote, allusion, or quotation was always at his fingertips and he knew when to make the reader laugh. (I could not restrain my chuckles as he lambasted M. Scott Peck's fatuous equation of love and evolution [p. 27]). This book contains a fine mix of intriguing content and great writing. I would recommend it to anyone seeking a quick read that will stretch the brain a bit.

Full House: The Spread of Excellence from Plato to Darwin written by Stephen Jay Gould is a book that is anthropocentic in view, but nonetheless, eloquently argumentive for the new paradigm of progress in which variety, not complexity, is the true measure of excellence.

Gould is a master at writing about science, an explainer of difficult ideas and concepts, bringing a wealth of history in his writing for a well gounded in fact argument. Contentious and polemics are just two of Gould's passionate, but eloquent techniques for getting your attention. As you read this book you'll begin to understand why Gould is so popular as a writer... he's a wonderful storyteller.

"Full House" takes the reader on a journey to reconceptualize our view of natural reality in a fundamental way... making the argument... that variation is the ultimate reality of excellence as a function shaped by selection. Gould gets a little anecdotal as he works his arcana into his arguments, making the reading go by quickly, but more importantly you are learning all along.

Yes, if you've read a lot of Gould's work you'll read many points that Gould has brought to the table before. This being said, these are reconceptualized here, as Gould shows you what we intuitively know to be true. The dare-devilish humor and wit of Gould are evident in this work, bringing the reader along the thought-trail as he transcends one paradigm to another with fervor and intelligence.

This is a well written book as all of Gould's work... unintimidating with masterful storytelling technique.

a good introduction to darwins thought.it points out many things that he was wrong on but it cannot be said as the author points out as darwin simply pushing on ideas of other people

We must be gentle with Stephen Gould. He has stood on the brink of the abyss, confronting the Great Mystery. It is his good fortune [and ours] that he was able to step back and remain with us to continue exercising his fine research and writing for our benefit. ROCKS OF AGES is an expression of his gratitude for the reprieve; a highly personal statement resulting from a crisis. In the past, such thoughts committed to paper usually remained in someone's journal, locked away in a drawer to be retrieved by later generations. Perhaps Steve Gould would have been wiser to follow that example.

This book contains so many flaws that in listing them it's difficult to know where to start. Or stop. Above all else, it's impossible to answer the fundamental question posed to any author: who is this book written for? Scientists? Gould wants science and religion at peace. So which scientists are at war with religion? Did he really write this book solely as an assault on Richard Dawkins, the only truly outspoken critic of religion in the scientific community? One book, one man; a slogan reminiscent of kamikaze pilots.

Is 'religion' the target audience? Gould takes 132 pages [of 222] to admit he knows nothing of Islam, Hinduism, Shinto, Aboriginal worship or other 'non-Western' religions. Doesn't leave much to choose from, does it? Judeo-Christian tradition remains the last available readership for ROCKS. And 'Rock of Ages' isn't a Jewish hymn.

By deduction then, we surmise he's addressing Christianity in seeking a peace. Good luck to him. Darwin didn't attack religion in Origin, but the Church put it on the Index before the ink was dry, yearning for a pole and some dry branches with which to 'redeem' the author. It was religion that launched the war against science, not vice versa, no matter how deviously Gould evades that fact. He cites the long history of theologians dabbling in natural phenomena as a sign of the merger of science and religion he seeks. The position, like most of this book, is false. Like many artists and composers of earlier days, 'scientific' theologians existed for one reason - no-one else had access to an education. Even Darwin entered university intending a clerical future. If you didn't subscribe to the Thirty-Nine Articles, you didn't get through the porticullis. SAT tests don't challenge the soul.

So why did Gould produce this poorly conceived volume? In HOW WE BELIEVE, Gould's friend Michael Shermer gave 'consolation' as the chief reason for Americans' adherence to christianity. 'Consolation', however, remains a vague term. Presumably, the root issue is what happens After? Gould, having faced that question, has given us this book as the result. Never mind all the pap about ethics and morals he drags us through. Who gave Christians a monopoly over what is ethical and moral? Or even beautiful?

The real issue is the Great Mystery and how we face it. Gould cites Mark Twain on comparing natural versus christian morals [the ichneumon wasp episode]. He should have delved more deeply into Twain, who described Christian mothers imparting a Moral Sense to their children and 'soiling their minds'. Twain, too, considered the After, finding it sterile, devoid of meaning unless human values were introduced. He described the dichotomy of Sheol and Paradise as 'heaven for climate, hell for society'.

Gould has once again handed the creationists a cudgel to use on the research community. To his iconoclastic assault on Darwin's natural selection, he has added an apologia for religion, urging Christians to keep snug within their own magisterium. Unfortunately, Christians feel that bailiwick includes public school boards and the tax office. The result will be an enlarging of the disparity of resources expended on church facilities versus research institutions. It is money that keeps research going, and if those funds are diverted into the magisterium of religion, there will be even less for paleontological field research. Snug in his office of semi- retirement, Stephen J. Gould will not feel the loss.

For thinking people there really should be no conflict between science and religion. Science tells you how to build an atom bomb, but it can't even address the question of whether you should use it. Religion, on the other hand, grapples with serious moral questions and offers wisdom about how to live your life. Gould makes clear that only a fundamentalist (i.e Biblical literalist) views Religion and Science like "the Hatfields and the McCoys." (If you think the Bible can do a better job than science of explaining the fossil record, for instance, you won't find much sympathy here.) However, Gould - an agnostic - clearly concedes religion its domain. Reading this book could do a lot of people a lot of good. (Unfortunately, my guess is the ones who could use it most will never pick it up. Some folks aren't much for exposing themselves to contrary points of view.) The book is a good introduction for someone who hasn't really considered the separate realms and dual functions of science and religion. Gould, ordinarily a fabulous essayist, writes much more gracefully in his other volumes in my view. I might have supposed it was ghost written by Joe Friday: just the facts, mam.

Dr. Gould reconciles the separate and equally important domains of religion and science using the life, times and perspectives of some of science's great thinkers. His message of tolerance and understanding is made from an open, yet skeptical, perspective. His thumbnail biography of Charles Darwin is so touching that it can bring almost anyone to tears. As one who does not yet know enough to know the truth with respect to belief systems, I found much harmony with Gould, Darwin and Thomas Henry Huxley. It is a compact book (222 5" by 8" pages of large type with large margins) and easily read in a day. It is a satisfying read that, by its very nature, leaves you ready for more.

book review _Hidden Histories of Science_
Hidden Histories of Science

Collection of 5 essays:
jonathan Miller on "Going Unconscious"

Stephen Jay Gould on "Ladders and Cones: Constraining Evolution by Canonical Icons"

Daniel J Kevles on "Pursuing the Unpopular: A History of Courage, Viruses, and Cancer"

R.C Lewontin on "Genese, Environment, and Organisms"

Oliver Sacks on "Scotoma: Forgetting and Neglect in Science"

A light read on the topic of: "episodes or themes, in the history of science that seemed to them worth recalling, not least because of what they suggested about the uses or implications of scientific history itself." pg ii Uneven essays, more like something i expect to read on the net rather than in print.

"Going Unconscious" is about hypnotism. An interesting example with the Okey sisters who had been successful "in a Pentecostal congregation in a nearby church, where their glossolalic interventions had attracted admiring attention. The career of these two young women neatly illustrates the way in which the symptoms of serious personality disorders can be shaped and then reshaped, depending on the social intitution in which they manifest themselves. In a congregation which recognized and valued the notion of 'speaking in tongues' the sisters modulated their conduct until they were recognizable as Pentecostal prophets, whereas in the wards of the newly converted professor of medicine their repertoire changed under the influence of Elliotson's positive conditioning and they re-emerged as mesmeric shamans." pg 11

"Ladders and Cones" is S.J.Gould's contribution to the evolution discussion as he points out that the common pictures we all have in our minds as a result of their being published repeatedly. The ladder of life and the cone(tree) of life as dominate motifs transmitted as inaccurate pictures.

"Pursuing the Unpopular" is the best of the essays. On cancer, the 75 year history of retrovirus, following luck and scientific society's disregard to show that oncogenes exist.
"It is difficult to think of another case of scientific advance where almost every one of the key pioneers encountered pointed resistance from his community of peers." I'd offer pirons as the infective agent in mad cow disease and the bacterial infection basis for ulcers as two more cases. "What permitted the pioneers eventually to prevail was to a significant extent their professional courage, imagination, and persistence. Yet it was also the tolerance and pluralism of the basic biomedical research system--the tolerance of deviant ideas and the pluralism that provides niches in which the ideas have a chance to flourish." pg 107-6

"Genes, Environment, and Organisms"
1. mechanistic nature of biological explanations
2. the historical nature of biological explanations
3. the contingency of biological explanations
4. the great need for developmental explanations
5. internal and external explanations play a very important part in the developmental scheme
6. life creates its own environment.

The experiment on page 124 with the supporting picture on page 125 is very good. Take 3 plants, divide each into 3 pieces, plant each piece in a different environment based on elevation. Watch the results that each plant does grow differently in each environment especially as compared to the set of results.

Oliver Sacks is a really good attention-grabbing author, "Scotoma" which is darkness or shadow, as used by neurologists, denote a disconnection, a hiatus in perception caused by a lesion in the central nervous system. pg 150 It is a neat look at several points in science where ideas where lost to be discovered years later, color preception is one of the examples. The radical continguency of science is again looked at mostly in the medical field. This essay was the impetus for the book.

A nice read, nothing great, might have been much more given the taste of each essay, but unfortunately left as a taste and not a full meal.

thanks for reading the essay.

The jacket summary for this book suggests an interesting concept for exploration, namely the reasons that some scientific theories remain in obscurity for generations, only to be subsequently 'rediscovered' and validated. After reading this book, I'm still waiting for a thorough treatment of this phenomenon. The book is a collection of five essays that are not thematically connected as well as I would expect. Several of the essays largely consists of anecdotes and personal observations, not any sort of philosophical development or historical overview. Oliver Sacks' closing essay, "Scotoma: Forgetting and Neglect in Science", is by far the best and could well serve as the basis for a more complete treatment. Too bad I couldn't find this article on the New York Review of Books Web site since it would save buying the book.