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Madame Bovary's Ovaries: A Darwinian Look at Literature

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Literature, it's said, holds up a mirror to life. If our image of life is flawed or blurry the reflection will be hardly better. We are only now beginning to understand how life, especially human life, actually works. The Barashes, drawing on literature and the new science of evolutionary psychology, demonstrate that much of literature may be explained by biology. Instead of literature depicting limited or skewed views of morality or other ephemeral concepts, it can use universals applicable to all humanity. And that means the most enduring literature, no matter unconscious the author might be of Darwin's natural selection, still rests on evolutionary foundations.

The authors, a father-daughter team, have scoured a wide range of literature, from Shakespeare through Tolstoy to Mark Twain, in demonstrating which human characteristics are best portrayed in fiction or drama. They are quick to insist that biology is not "the" tool for analysing writing, but is "a" tool. One which should be used more often and given more attention than it has. They show how Othello, a play whose characters have been adapted to endless variations, is at heart, about male jealousy. Nature teems with examples of manifestations of this basic trait, from the physical to the behavioural. Scientific publications present countless examples from insects to elephants.

The chapter "The Key to Jane Austen's Heart" is about "what women want," and why. There's far more involved than Helen Hunt's ambition to be a successful manager or Freud's lack of answering his own question. The situation rests on finding the right mate. Like male jealousy, females of the species have a strong vested interest in what kind of male they select. Unlike males, females of many species, especially we primates, make a heavy investment in the reproductive process. For human females, there's the long gestation period, need for assistance during upbringing of the offspring and indication of long-term support. One of Darwin's great insights is that while males may do much posturing prior to copulation, it is the females who ultimately accept or reject the male's advances. This situation is reflected in the title of the book. While a female may accept one male for some aspects, she may wander afield searching for others for different reasons. Even a male bird seeking food or other mates may return to the nest to find himself displaced. Whose chicks will he be feeding?

Once offspring have been produced, a whole new spectrum of behaviours is unleashed. How many stable households have been disrupted by parent-offspring conflict? Twain's Huckleberry Finn, with no mother and a dysfunctional father, moves from one surrogate family to another. None beat him, reject him nor judge him, but he leaves them all, closing his narrative with the intent to "light out for the territories". As children mature, they develop their own agendas. From the "terrible twos" to the stresses of adolescence, parent-offspring conflicts reflect the stress of developing individuality, which may only be fulfilled by flight.

We've waited a long time for the insights provided here. Although the Barashes aren't the first to attempt this technique, this book is clearly the best effort made to date. The authors explain every factor clearly, there's no need for the reader to have a degree in zoology. Preconceived notions of what literature is about, however, should be placed in a tightly locked container. There are new and challenging ideas here and every fiction reader should consider them. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]

** Thanks to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

This book muddles cart and horse: at times, evolutionary theory is explained by reference to literature; at times, literary productions are explained by reference to evolutionary theory. The book is as apt to go on an explanatory tangent featuring wasps or gorillas as on one featuring Othello or Emma. This tends to blunt the book's argument, but the defect is not fatal. I would recommend the book more for its explanations of evolutionary theory than for its insights into literature, but there is plenty of each.

Note that the subtitle, "a Darwinian look at literature," is accurate so long as "look" is understood to mean "survey" rather than "perusal." This book examines so many literary works (I counted over 150 in the index) in the light of evolutionary theory that it tends to breeziness. Still, it makes for an interesting and provocative read, if an odd one in places.

To wit, with surprising frequency, the book claims that the deeds or thoughts of a fictional character can be understood as the workings of natural selection or other Darwinian dynamics. No, fictional characters are not the products of natural selection, but rather of human beings, who are. This elision allows the authors to avoid or undertreat a number of interesting lines of inquiry: What is the adaptive value of literature? How, if at all, does it relate to the adaptive value of language generally? Given that human beings are an inveterately fiction-creating species, which aspects of our biological nature do we tend to present faithfully in literature, which do we tend to distort, and why? (And is there a Darwinian explanation for the pattern?) What, in Darwinian terms, can we make of a number of persistent characters, themes, and figurations that would seem to touch on biology: witches, extraterrestrials, life after death, spirits and ghosts, immortals and gods, robots and automatons, human-animal hybrids including sentient animals? Heck, why is the floppy-haired innocent in horror movies always a boy named Timmy, Joey, Bobby, or another name ending with the hard "e" sound?

This book may indeed herald a promising new approach to literature, but the detail work remains to be done. This is a further step toward the "consilience" between science and humanities that E.O. Wilson proposed in his book by the same title, but there are many more to take.

Don't let the fact that Madame Bovary's Ovaries is a fun read fool you; the ideas contained within will forever change the way that you read fiction. Barash and Barash have managed to cogently describe their clever new way to analyze literature. It makes so much sense, you'll ask yourself "why didn't I think of that". In fact, you'll wonder why generation upon generation of English Lit. professors failed to pick up where Darwin left off.

I think it's safe to say that just about any lover of literature will enjoy a fresh perspective of their old favorites after reading Madame Bovary's Ovaries.

"Madame Bovary's Ovaries" may have forever altered my approach to reading fiction. After devouring this fascinating study of human nature as portrayed by countless characters created in popular literature--from Shakespeare to Salinger, Hawthorne to Hardy, Kerouac to Kingsolver--I believe it has helped to give new and extended meaning to nearly every story I've ever read.

There is thoughtful organization to the chapters as each introduces the sub-topic in a very clever and readable way. Through the work of Jane Austen we learn what women want and why. Through Othello, we become more sensitive to male insecurities. The authors use the Corleone family (The Godfather) to introduce the importance of genetics, shared DNA, and branch out to examine various familial relationships. By revisiting the life of Holden Caulfield the parent-child relationship is examined. Sibling relationships take center stage through Cain and Abel, Steinbeck's East of Eden and the daughters of King Lear; and step-parent/child dynamics ring true through the examples of David Copperfield and Cosette and Jean Valjean in Victor Hugo's Les Miserables. Even young Harry Potter gets a mention in this section. Each topic is packed with examples (at times too many, belaboring the point); however, it never fails to bring the reader back to basic biology: the birds and the bees.

This is a well researched and fun read. The authors show deep respect not only for the extensive list of books/authors cited but also for the readers who "consume novels and plays, seeking sustenance along with pleasure." Using classic works to advance their theories, "Madame Bovary's Ovaries," is put forth as a tool to help readers more deeply enjoy reading by understanding and relating to a shared human experience.

The readers know why.

I highly recommend the read and my hat is off to this father-daughter writing team. Well done.

From the author of "I'm Living Your Dream Life," and "The Things I Wish I'd Said," McKenna Publishing Group.

In this enjoyable incursion into human nature via literature, Barash&Barash gracefully rise above the somewhat obscure practice of literary criticism (on an academic level). In the tradition of Dawkins, Pinker, Buss and other evolutionary theorists who have managed to transmit the latest scientific "findings" to the lay-but-interested reader, the authors of this book propose to (begin to) answer a lingering question: what makes works of literature universally appealing to generations of readers?

Sure, there is the individual writer's style, originality, social conscience (none of this will be denied by this book) - but the main thing that makes Homer, Shakespeare, Flaubert or Faulkner so successful, Barash&Barash propose, might have more to do with nature than with art (for art's sake). In that sense, even the title of the book is most fortunate, since it already indicates how much the latter is linked to the first.

Throughout the book, the reader is urged to look at a great number of renowned works of literature from the "gene's eye-view", with Barash&Barash providing the essential tools by explaining the ABC of evolution through natural selection (often enough quoting or referring to the pioneering work of scientists who contributed to the understanding of the gene as the single unit of selection - and the implications of this on organisms' behaviour and tactics). Since maximizing one's chances of passing one's genes on to the next generation is just about all ANY organism on this planet can (or should) "think of", it should come as no surprise that the main topics in literature have mostly revolved around a handful of questions:

- Who should I reproduce with, in order to make sure that my genes get "properly" copied (i.e., combine with another set of genes that secures future reproductive success)?

- (for males) How can I inseminate as many females as possible, thereby sending oodles of copies of my genes to the next generation - without having to pay the heavy price of wife&child support?

- (for males again) How can I be sure that my reproductive partner isn't actually trying to get protection and support from me - and sperm from that nicer-looking guy next door?

- (for females) How can I be sure that my reproductive partner won't take off as soon as I allow him to mix his sperm with my valuable egg - thereby leaving me alone with the heavy task of rearing the offspring?

- (for females again) How can I "fool" a "generous" providing male to rear the child I have produced with another, more promising (but less resourceful) set of genes?

- How can I make sure that my genetic legacy gets passed on - via my own children or at least nephews/nieces, cousins and the whole kin?

- How kind should I be to anybody who is not genetically related to me - i.e., how will my genes benefit from my alliances with strangers?

This doesn't mean that our brains (or those of literary characters) are openly concerned with these questions - rather, one could say that there is a type of unconscious "gene-thinking" permanently going on, which then gets translated into feelings, expectations, satisfaction or frustration. Literature, just like real life, abounds with these "symbolic" expressions of our genes' reproductive "aims".

As it turns out, humans share these nagging anxieties with countless other organisms on the planet, and so, through entertaining and enlightening examples of other creatures' trials and tribulations, Barash&Barash prove how truly universal good literature can be. Which is to say that even Mrs. Blackbird would enjoy Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice", and Mr. Gorilla would feel empathy towards Shakespeare's "Othello" - if only they could be bothered to make something out of human language. (I suspect, however, that rare creatures such as the bdelloid rotifers, who are exclusively female and therefore do not recur to sexual reproduction to get their genes copied, might find most of our literature - with its emphasis on love, jealousy and competition - invariably boring...)

The authors thereby manage to instruct their readers on two fronts: on the one hand, we are presented with a variety of plots and characters that exemplify the workings of natural selection over human minds and societies; on the other hand, we are confronted with "real stories" of many other species that confirm the value of literature as a "mirror" to nature.

If you are NOT particularly offended about the fact that human nature is fundamentally similar to that of elephant seals or blood-sucking bats, this book may turn out to be a helpful and enjoyable form of reflecting about everyday dilemmas and conflicts. And it certainly adds to the understanding of literature not as something otherworldly and complex (which would require the "interpretation" of literary "experts") but as a form of expression, entertainment and instruction that has been useful to humans in their attempts to understand the surrounding world - and find ways of getting their genes through.

Madame Bovaries Ovaries was simply delightful. This is the perfect book for anyone interested in science, literature or both!

This book offers a new look at the "human condition" so often referred to as a mysteriously intangible entity by dry literary critics. The Barashes simply suggest that this "condition" is a biological one, governed by (but not limited to) Darwinian principles.

Their friendly and straightforth style makes this book a joy to read. Its more like a lively conversation than literary criticism.

Their Darwinian look at literature was never dry nor heavy handed. The Barashes provide a refreshing new look at literature in a style that is witty, casual and ironic.

I read this book slowly on vacation and it made me laugh a few times. The topics seem to be so very obvious but when they are illustrated with details from literature some how its all worth it. The book gave me a greater appreciation of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Its kind of fun to read this book while reading another book and you will understand the other book in a different way. No kidding.

The idea of "original sin" didn't quite take root for me, but when I read Wright's "The Moral Animal" 10 years ago, I was instantly hooked on evolutionary psychology. Here was an explanation about human behavior I could believe. The extravagant tail feathers of the peacock and the elaborate seduction altars of the bower bird are burdens the male birds must bear if they wish to secure the affections of the coy and more selective females. Just as these birds act out their courtship routines, same play every time, evolutionary pressures guarantee that we will openly flaunt (and sometimes secretly hide) our human nature. No group has documented this better than our great writers of fiction. The very reason they became famous is because they knew so well how to pluck the strings and play the tunes orchestrated in us by natural selection.

Great stories dating from before humans could write have been been rife with courtship, infidelity, jealousy, altruism, game-playing, love, alpha males and choosy females. They SHOULD be careful and selective. The male's investment in mating - his "lovin' spoonful" - pales in comparison to a woman's pregnancy and possible solo child-rearing. Because human brains are so much bigger, our courtship games are much more complex than the peacocks, making for a fascinating analysis of our great literature from a completely different perspective, provided here by the Barashes.

Chapters include:

Male Sexual Jealousy - demonstrated and described in wrenching detail by Shakespeare, Chaucer, Homer, Hemingway, Mark Twain and others.

What Women Want & Why - Jane Austen shines here, plus Defoe, Orwell, D. H. Lawrence, Bronte, Virgil, Shakespeare again and others.

What Men Want & Why - Gone With The Wind, Tess of the d'Urbervilles, Lolita, Ullyses, Tropic of Cancer, The Great Gatsby, the movies Pretty Woman and The First Wives Club, and other entrees.

The Biology of Adultery - starring Madame Bovary and shockingly detailed by Flaubert, Milton, Homer, Shakespeare, Ovid, Tolstoy, Chaucer, Hawthorne, Joyce, and others.

Kin Selection, or the Enduring Importance of Being Family - Starring The Godfather, with Tom Jones and Sophie's Choice, also selections by Faulkner, Shakespeare, London, Kipling, Keats, Alcott and others.

Regarding the Struggles of Stepchildren - Les Miserables, Cinderella, Harry Potter, Jane Eyre, Oliver Twist, King Lear, War and Peace, David Copperfield, Silas Marner, and others.

Parent-Offspring Conflict - Angst from Phillip Roth, Mark Twain, Shakespeare, The Bible, The Catcher In The Rye, The Brothers Karamazov, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and others.

Wrath, Reciprocity, & Friendship - The Three Musketeers, A Streetcar Named Desire, The Secrets of Ya Ya Sisterhood, more Shakespeare, several selections from Steinbeck, and others.

Epilogue - Literature and Science have, at times, had a rocky road tolerating each other, each carrying their own comforting convictions. The Barashes assert that literature is "more than just a manifestation of DNA, and yet how could biology NOT be relevant to literature?" Hopefully, many in the field of the humanities will be intrigued by their unique approach to literary analysis.

Incidently, Barash co-wrote this book with a daughter who is studying biology and literature. A previous book "The Mammal in the Mirror," he co-wrote with another daughter who was in medical school, and another with his psychiatrist wife. Most likely, this is a positive commentary on not only his interpersonal skills, but also on the advisability of raising children with a full deck of the knowledge in all fields of study available to us all.

I came to this book expecting something wonderful. Instead, what I got was pseudoscience with no sense of scientific method, and pseudo-criticism with no sense of having read at more than a shallow level. A single example will suffice. The authors believe that "Othello" is essentially about the human tendency toward polygamy, which they describe as virtually undisputed. They do not cite scientific sources for this view, because in fact it's highly controversial; as for the play, they quote one brief passage (from Iago) that only vaguely supports their theory about the text. In effect, this book does science the very same way that creationists do: by starting with fixed opinions, and gathering "facts" about them the way some birds gather shiny bits of garbage.

This book should be an insightful exploration of the linkage between storytelling and evolution, but it's not. Its assumptions blind its methods and undercut most of its claims to literary scholarship.

This book's selection of material is too limited for two authors who claim to talk about "literature" at large, covering only narrative. They ignore poetry completely and any literature between the ancient Greeks and the Renaissance, which undercuts their claim that we generally prefer round characters. Medieval drama wasn't full of round characters. These oversights undercut any serious pretentions, which they wisely disavow.

Furthermore, their inspection is shallow, looking at the characters as people rather than diving deeper into the process of literary production and the human need for narrative. They dismiss the past five decades of literary theory and philosophy and treat literary psychological realism as a given.

Ultimately, their insights seem tautological. We like characters because they act a certain way and they reveal certain universal themes. This is, in many ways, criticism of the 19th century dressed up with the trappings of modern sociobiology. And ultimately, I want to ask "So what?" This is more interesting as sociobiology than lit crit.

I suppose this book is okay for a light, entertaining "pop lit crit" book (like a popular science book), but it's not a serious work of lit crit, which is what I was hoping for.