A Natural History of the Senses

This book is a delightful romp through the senses. While Diane Ackerman weaves in and out of the biological aspects of the human senses, she takes us through a ride. The ride takes us through our senses' role in literature, life, human relations, art, and many aspects of human endeavor.

Diane's book is a joyous romp, but don't read it in one sitting. If you wish to discover little worlds you have forgotten, read one chapter daily. Savour the material and let it sink in.

Remember, this book is not a thriller. Enjoy it and read it again after a few years.

I never like to give a bad review. It seems mean to the author and to those who like the book. However, in this case, someone should, just for balance.

This book was just a painful slog for me. If a friend hadn't recommended it so highly, I would have blessedly abandoned it. I finished it, finally, but found no there there. Reading it was like being stuck for weeks -- perhaps on a cruise to the Antarctic or at a summer job on a New Mexican ranch -- with a self-indulgent, self-centered 18-year-old girl who likes to recite why she was voted most likely to succeed and editor of the literary magazine at her competitive suburban high school.

Ackerman slathers purple prose alternately over strings of quotations dug up from better writers on the show more five senses, and -- and this is much worse -- pretentious personal anecdotes like her cruise to the Antarctic or her job on a "working cattle ranch" in New Mexico.

Her mode of nature writing, or science writing, or whatever this book purports to be, is to make an assertion that she attributes to "us," and then to puncture this alleged trope with recitations from a high school science textbook. Yes, the sky is not really blue, it just looks blue. This is not actually a revelation for most educated people.

Her language is overwrought. Her demonstrations of alleged poetic sensibility are transparent pleas for admiration. Her attempts on nearly every page to show herself as an epicurean of everything -- kissing! cold water! -- would embarrass anyone with a modicum of modesty or perspective, much less the actual Epicurius.

I wanted to give it one star, but I am reserving that for, I don't know, a fascist text, should I ever be forced to read one. So, two stars, in honor of the ten or so pages I found actually interesting. They were about other people, of course, that being artists with vision problems.

TLDR? Not quick. Not enjoyable. Not illuminating. Not worth it. show less

In A Natural History of the Senses Diane Ackerman has produced a densely populated compendium of scientific, artistic, and emotional details related to smell, touch, taste, sound, sight, and synesthesia. She doesn’t occupy herself with any one aspect of each sense for long, always moving on, wanting not to deprive you of anything she knows. If the devil is in the details then there’s much deviltry in her book.

There’s also, to my surprise, much that pleases. The first time I tried the book I had put it aside, unwilling to sit with it any longer, resorting finally to reading random pages until the desire to do even that died. Its feasts of “sensuist” experiences seemed so much excess, the act of reading it work providing little show more that inspired. I’d think: I’d be exhausted if my senses, any of them, were keyed up as much as all of Diane Ackerman’s are seemingly all of the time. She speaks of the SHOCKING green of chlorophyll. Shocking?

And yet now, coming to the book again a quarter century later, it’s all so much more impressive. I even found her provoking me to make small resolutions. Examples of notes to self:
—She is moved to tears by Eucalyptus smells . . . We have plenty of these trees around here. Find a few, stick my nose near or against them, and see what happens.
—She hears the sound of waves breaking on the beach in a way others do not . . . I live near the ocean. Head on over there and do as she instructs: press ear against sand and listen.

Yep. I’ve come to my senses. A Natural History of the Senses inspires. show less

Written with a poet's sensiitivity to language, this is a beguiling compound of scientific knowledge with literary and historical quotation concerning the five traditional senses. These are followed by chapters on synaesthesia and on tricks used by writers to stimulate their creativity. Wherever you dip into this extraordinary compendium you are sure to find a pearl - and without having to prise open the oyster. The suggested further reading alone could occupy a lifetime.

This book is my bible. I've read it a number of times and plan to read it again, and again, and again.

Ackerman sums up her intention for this book wonderfully in her introduction--

"To begin to understand the gorgeous fever that is consciousness, we must try to understand the senses--how they evolved, how they can be extended, what their limits are, to which one we have attached taboos, and what they can teach us about the ravishing world we have the privilege to inhabit."

We are connected to the world around us through our senses. The more aware we are of this connection, the better our appreciation of our world. Awareness improves our focus on our senses and teaches us how to better utilize them. Ackerman improves our awareness by show more exploring each sense from both biological and historical aspects. Ackerman's use of language infuses poetry into these analyses, likened to the experience of exploring an environment.

Your food will taste better and the air will smell sweeter after reading this book. We seem to take our senses for granted when in fact they are one of the keys to happiness and love for life. If anything, this book should be in the self-help section.

Take a deep breath and taste each molecule you take in. The world is a beautiful place. show less

This went back and forth from being fascinating to being something of a slog. Ackerman meanders through facts, histories, and her personal experiences as they relate to the five senses, covering a wide range of topics.
The author is a poet—and I’m not a big fan of modern poetry—and that really came through in certain sections. Sometimes I really liked the way she turned a phrase, like this one, toward the end of the book.

What a strange lot writers are, we questers after the perfect word, the glorious phrase that will somehow make the exquisite avalanche of consciousness sayable.

But often enough, I just felt like I was punching my way through lots and lots of words.
I’m glad I read it—I never would have known about miraculous show more fruit or the greater honeyguide and lots of cool other things if I hadn’t. On the other hand, if I’d never read it, I never would have heard of the sadistic cook Mizald, who I imagine has been burning in hell these many years.
Anyway.
This was written about 30 years ago, and I don’t know if the way she referenced her sources was typical or not. She’s got a Further Reading section at the end, listing the books she used for research (presumably), but there are no footnotes or endnotes with more specific citations. I looked things up that I cared enough about to verify.
I heard about this book from a brief reference in The Other End of the Leash, and thought it sounded intriguing. Lots of it was, but if I were a skimmer, I probably would have had a better reading experience. show less

If I had to keep only one non-fiction book out of my whole collection, this would be the one. Ms. Ackerman writes beautifully, leaving you hungry for more. She has a fantastic way of interweaving fact, poetry, anecdote, and humor. I read it way too fast, and had to go back for more.