Charles Darwin played the piano to earthworms.
He wanted to know whether they could hear. He also shouted at them, breathed on them, and shone a lantern at them in the dark. He collected and weighed their excrement.
These observations are typical of Darwin's work: unassuming creatures at the very margins of our perception, their stories largely untold. He uncovers wonders far less known than the Galapagos finches — but possibly more consequential for understanding the world he saw.
“I am a complete millionaire in odd and curious little facts,” Darwin once wrote, and he meant it. These essays take the strange facts seriously — the worms, barnacles, corals, and many more — and ask what kind of world they point to.
If that sounds like your kind of thing, you’re in the right place.
I'm Michael. I studied Comparative Literature and Philosophy at the Free University Berlin, though that's sixteen years and one life ago now. These days I write around kids and a full-time job, which is why chapters appear slowly, but there's plenty in between.
If something resonates or you think I'm missing something obvious, I'm glad to know. If you've encountered authors who touch on these themes — even sideways — I'd love to hear about them.
