Richard Dawkins' 1989 book The Selfish Gene has persuaded many readers that we are, at bottom, vehicles for a genetic program. Our DNA exists to copy itself, but it does so by first building a conscious human organism. That's lucky for us; how many chunks of matter in the universe ever get to experience sunsets, or sonnets, or sex? Many people, however, take Dawkins to be saying that since our genes are in charge, any meaning we may happen to see in life is illusory.

Unweaving the Rainbow is Dawkins' eloquent reply to this depressing charge. Biologists may be unsentimental about their subject, he says, but that doesn't make them unfeeling. And there may be no grand design in life, but there is plenty to be awestruck about. "To accuse science of robbing life of the warmth that makes it worth living is so preposterously mistaken, so diametrically opposite to my own feelings and those of most working scientists, I am almost driven to the despair of which I am wrongly suspected," he writes.