Edward O. Wilson (1929–2021)

A re-read of the wonderful Folio version after reading the original thirty years ago. At the time it was a clarion call of decisions to preserve the natural world as we knew it. Now it reads more like a funeral dirge of advice not taken. Things are not better, not okay, and we are all worse for it. The only saving grace that comes to mind is that speciation will again take hold as we exit the scene, having wasted our inheritance.

E. O. Wilson's Biophilia explores human attachment to everything living, the natural inclination we have to the living world, to life. We anthropomorphise because everything alive is "people". St. Francis preached to bird-people and fish-people (can't help remembering someone remarked, "if he loved birds so much, why didn't he preach to cats?!"), even the Sun, which, waxing and waning, seems very much alive, even capriciously so. We are attuned to life and turned on to life. Life of other show more species is necessary to our life, and the need broadens much past the physical, into our aesthetics and ethics. Prishvin's Lu Wen and Poncins' Eskimo illustrate the attachment in a natural setting, and its range. Humans couldn't exist without biophilia, wouldn't be human without it. It doesn't mean not hunting, it means loving and cherishing what you hunt (or grow) because it gives you life. show less

My first E. O. Wilson! It's clear that some of the ideas in this book have had their place in his earlier works. With that in mind, Half-Earth is still an excellent stand-alone book about ecology and natural resources. Climate change isn't expressly addressed, but Wilson writes in detail about the problems associated with conserving the diversity of Earth's species.

This is a wonderful and refreshing book to read when so many science writers (note: not necessarily scientists) are touting the show more value of "novel ecosystems" and downplaying the problems associated with invasive species. Wilson doesn't sugar-coat anything--the Earth is in trouble in many ways. We as humans should know about the problems we face. There are no simple solutions. The first step is to be educated and informed about the world around us.

This book is very appropriate for people who are interested in learning more about conservation and biodiversity. It's very accessible for those without a science background and should also hold the interest of those more well-acquainted with the topics it covers. It might be a good text to draw from when teaching high school or first year college students. Wilson writes quite beautifully and leaves the reader with much food for thought. show less

The early part of the book, in which young Wilson ranges through the wilderness close to home observing and collecting insects and herptiles with sometimes obsessive focus (should have thought twice before getting too confident about poisonous snakes, Ed) is delightful and at times reminiscent of Sterling North. His post-secondary education, with tales of travelling the globe from island to island discovering and collecting new species of insects and observing many, many ants, is show more fascinating. The feeling of awe with which he describes the wonders of the tropics and its animals -- and the excitement of collecting -- occasionally reminded me of a less comic, but still good humoured, Gerald Durrell. When Wilson acquires tenure and an indoor office, he becomes less exciting. The story becomes "I was privileged to meet some brilliant scientists" (he describes at least one man's physical appearance in as much loving detail as he devotes to the fellow's mind), "I had some ideas, some in collaboration with those brilliant scientists, and I wrote about them, here is a précis of my work, with publication details in a footnote", "my graduate student did most of the on-site work in the Florida Keys, but I got to help" (fascinating brief visits), "James Watson descended upon Harvard and called all us non-molecular biologists 'stamp collectors'" (it was unkind and inaccurate but one can almost see JW's point), "I wrote about some more ideas, here's another footnote". I like reading about adventures. And also, come to think of it, about islands. And about families, but he doesn't really mention his -- for instance, he says his wife and toddler accompanied him on one of his scouting trips to the Florida keys, but he basically leaves them somewhere Floridian and never mentions them in his detailed description of the trip. Or when he returns to Harvard either. (I have to suppose that when he offhandedly mentions, late in the book, that he was working 60 to 80 hours a week, that explains why he never mentions his wife and daughter. Would he even recognize the child if he saw her on the street?) Overall, a remarkable book about the history of science (which does qualify as adventure!) and ants. Highly recommended. show less