Emma Darwin can rest happy. She and Charles indeed "belong to each other for eternity" (her worried note to him about salvation - he kept it until the day he died), through this touching tribute from their great-great grand-daughter, Ruth Padel. One can imagine the interplay of their emotions reading it together - delight in memories of their ten children, but muscles contracting in sorrow at the three who died young. She will remember with relief the pains of childbirth and Charles be gladly free of his unwelcome daily companion since South America, Chagas disease.
This "life in poems" is a strange but compelling hybrid genre: if it were a segmented worm with iridescent wings it would undoubtedly be named as a new species. Some of the language is that of a writer already known for her naturalist' s eye and poet's ear, used here to recreate the effect on Darwin of the tropical rainforest:
"Leaves of all textures that a leaf
could be: palm, fluff, prickle, matte and plume;
bobbled; shaggy plush. A thousand shades
of ochre, silver, emerald, smoky brass.
He's walking into every dream he's ever seen."
Yet many of the poems are partially "found" ones, full of phrases straight from Darwin or others. A light but reassuring narrative thread is provided by notes running down the side of many poems, as well as by evocative titles: "A Quarrel in Bahia Harbour" shows Darwin making his opposition to slavery clear to Captain Fitzroy; "A Spot of Malaria in the Moluccas" leads into the fateful letter showing Darwin that Alfred Russel Wallace had also realised the mechanism by which species could change. It is no surprise that Charles' and Emma's genes should have helped shape such a well-crafted and affectionate bicentennial portrait. I read it at one sitting.