From Publishers Weekly
When birds take a dip in the water, is it to clean their feathers, or is it just plain fun? The author addresses such questions in a brisk, erudite and enormously entertaining contribution to the growing genre of books about the emotions of animals. Balcombe, an animal behavior research consultant for the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine, presents an excellent, approachable introduction to the basic issues in animal behavior, with the potential to gain a much wider reception than such classics as Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson and Susan McCarthy's
When Elephants Weep. By presenting evidence "from both scientific study and anecdote, that the animal kingdom is rich in pleasure," Balcombe balances a general philosophical look at the prevalence of pleasure among animals (he rejects the view that all behavior must be explained in terms of adaptation for survival) with detailed anecdotal evidence of how specific animals experience pleasure in play, food, sex, touching and love. But what may most attract readers to Balcombe's powerful argument "that animals have minds and feelings" is the cover photo: two smiling pigs nuzzling each other in an inescapably endearing pose.
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From Scientific American
If you have ever scratched a dog’s belly as the animal lies, legs splayed, you would find it hard to believe that the pooch was not experiencing pleasure. Jonathan Balcombe, who has tickled many a mammal, thinks so, too, and he rails at the reductionism of biologists who see animals as genetic automatons that seek little more than to eat, sleep and reproduce. Instead, he asserts, "We are evolutionarily continuous with the other beasts ... and we are now realizing that ours is a planet rich with other minds and experiences."
Balcombe is an animal behavior research scientist with the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine in Washington, D.C. To back up his claim that all vertebrates, at least, experience pleasure, he presents hundreds of anecdotes about animals playing, eating, copulating, grooming, loving—and enjoying all of it. Most examples come from biologists observing or experimenting with an array of species from moles to whales, but Balcombe also quotes pet owners and talks about his own menagerie.
Interestingly, his best counter to the belief of some scientists that animal behavior is largely instinctual and in service of reproduction comes in his chapter on sex. In many species, only a few dominant males gain access to females, but this fact scarcely means the others abstain from sex. To the contrary, Balcombe documents the widespread practice of homosexual couplings and masturbation. The only reward for these creatures seems to be pleasure. Because animals—at least mammals—can experience both pleasure and pain, Balcombe concludes that we owe them better treatment. He ends Pleasurable Kingdom with a plea for improving the lives of animals, from battery hens and pigs kept in dark concrete barns to the millions of lab rats consigned to wire cages.
Unfortunately, some bad stylistic and logical choices lessen the book’s impact. Balcombe lists far too many anecdotes and adds too little analysis. He also makes presumptuous leaps: the fact that birds have brilliant plumage, and eyes to see other birds’ feathers, does not mean they possess an aesthetic sense. One story of a chimp supposedly watching an African sunset is turned into an epiphany in which the ape is "contented with life." Such unprovable assertions detract from an otherwise well-argued thesis.
Jonathan Beard
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