Darwin: A Life in Poems – Ruth Padel

A poetical biography. Hm. Interesting.

Fearing a saga in verse (which would, I am afraid, have proved intolerable) I was pleasantly surprised to find discrete and disparate poems. Nonetheless, hampered by my preconceptions regarding the function and proper form of poetry, I remained unconvinced that portraying either life story or scientific discovery in poetry was a good, or even practicable, idea.

It was therefore quite surprising to read the whole book in one sitting, experiencing a sense of loss at the conclusion reflecting both a sympathetic response to the author’s intent and a reluctance to disengage from the world created by the narrative.

However, I have not greatly shifted my position with respect to the scope of poetry.

It is worth knowing the background to the book, which Padel sensibly sets out in her introductory Note and Acknowledgements. Padel is a direct descendent of Darwin, and there is a family tradition of publishing on the subject of the illustrious ancestor. Padel draws from her interpretations of Darwin’s own autobiographical material. Some of the poems were commissioned individually, to celebrate Darwin’s bicentenary in 2009. It is to Padel’s credit that she has amalgamated her collected work into a coherent whole.

Coherent but not comprehensive. There is nothing startling or new to learn about Darwin’s theory or methods, and it is by no means an exhaustive rendition of a man’s life. But who would want to read those things in poetry? Biographical ‘side’ notes are provided to fill in dates and more complex information. As a part of the reading experience the notes are neither intrusive nor excessive, a nicely judged balance.

What the poems do offer is a suggestion of the humanity behind a theory which is itself without sentiment. The following verse hints at an ongoing dilemma, where scientific discovery conflicts with the needs of family, besides illuminating Darwin’s sterling qualities as a new father:

‘…anxious to observe
accurately

the expression
of a crying child

but sympathy with his grief
spoiled all my observation.’

Darwin’s scientific discoveries conflict with the religious convictions of his wife, Emma, causing them both significant distress.

THE CONFESSION

‘At last gleams of light have come.
Contrary to the opinion I started with
I am almost convinced
that species are not (it is like confessing
to a murder) immutable. I think I have found
(here’s presumption!) the simple way
by which species become
adapted to new ends.’

‘[…] “The universe we observe,

if properly understood, has all the properties
we should expect if there is no purpose, no design,
no evil and no good. Nothing but blind, pitiless
indifference.” […]’

Light and blindness are motifs that recur, if not always with a consistent inference, but this is in keeping with the conflict experienced by Darwin. Both excerpts convey religious implications to a greater or lesser degree.

What I am not qualified to comment upon is the quality of the poetry. For instance, words like ‘blob’,’plonk’ and ‘splodge’ have no place in my personal lexicon of lyricism, and I really find them quite objectionable. Yes. Of course this is irrational, and that is exactly why I am in no position to judge!

However, even as a rank amateur, I can see how the shifting structure of the poems keeps the narrative dynamic (with reference to the turgidity of that regular rhyming epic I was dreading) and how it can be made to reflect the mood of each section. For instance. Compare these verses from neighbouring poems:

‘Two brothers in the world. He’s sixteen
and bouncing on hot springs

of excitement. ‘Bridge Street
is the most extraordinary thing
I ever saw. We looked over the side

and saw beneath a stream
of people instead of a river!’

…and…

‘He tried numb. He was good at that once. But the assault
of the operating theatre was off the Richter scale
of self-deception. The amputation table: a drawn-out sobbing
yell. The smells – bowels opening, sawn bone.
“Long before the blessed days of chloroform.” ‘

The jaunty feel of the first conveys the excitement of a boy free in a new town, the second much slower piece seeks to reveal a reflective Darwin making serious life choices. If I had chosen to read the poetry out loud… who knows? But that was never going to happen.

My second observation is with regard to Padel’s objectives. Given that some of the poems were commissioned as a celebration of Darwin we have to take the work in that context. A celebration. And in this Padel succeeds, the poetry serving her ends admirably in creating a kind of emotional landscape of an idealised Darwin. I don’t intend the last in a pejorative sense. Perhaps Darwin was the near saint depicted here. But, even if he wasn’t, the poetry, in inviting us to empathise with Darwin to a very high degree, tells us something about how we relate to the heroes of the past. And that is a use of poetry of which I approve.