The Autobiography of Charles Darwin is a slightly more grandiose title than what he wrote. Originally, it was a sort of letter for his children. He describes the impetus for telling his story this way:

A German Editor having written to me for an account of the development of my mind and character with some sketch of my autobiography, I have thought that the attempt would amuse me, and might possibly interest my children or their children. I know that it would have interested me greatly to have read even so short and dull a sketch of the mind of my grandfather, written by himself, and what he thought and did, and how he worked. I have attempted to write the following account of myself, as if I were a dead man in another world looking back at my own life. Nor have I found this difficult, for life is nearly over with me. I have taken no pains about my style of writing.

By taking “no pains” about the style of writing, he produced an exceedingly conversational telling of his life that sparkles with an honesty that makes it feel incredibly modern. It is rare to find anyone who effected history as much as he, speaking so frankly about their life and thinking, in his era or any other for that matter.

In the process of relating the details of his life, including his earliest memories and his lackluster academic career, we get a very revealing portrait of a shockingly innocent, almost naive young man. And as he takes us through the stories behind his greatest achievements, it becomes clear he remained innocent and child-like as he became an old man. I don’t know if I’ve ever read such an unselfconscious autobiography.

I hope low vision readers will enjoy this intimate, strange autobiography.