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Our Bodies, Our Planet: A Parasite’s History of Us
Parasites and parasitic relationships are fundamental to life on Earth and to human history. Our Bodies, Our Planet explores how vital they are. Unlike harmful pathogens, parasites may produce no ill effects and may even improve our well-being and the lives of the creatures that surround us. Marcus Hall shows how our fellow travellers have evolved to help keep us alive, else they themselves will perish.
Parasitism is a phenomenon of partnership, and the association of parasite and host has had far-ranging cultural, biological and possibly geophysical consequences. From Ascaris to Zika, we are instinctively repulsed by these little freeloaders, but what collateral effects do they have on our lives, lifestyles and imaginations? As Hall demonstrates, we disregard our parasites at our peril.
Parasitism is a phenomenon of partnership, and the association of parasite and host has had far-ranging cultural, biological and possibly geophysical consequences. From Ascaris to Zika, we are instinctively repulsed by these little freeloaders, but what collateral effects do they have on our lives, lifestyles and imaginations? As Hall demonstrates, we disregard our parasites at our peril.
320 pages, Hardcover
Published November 21, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
July 12, 2025
Book Review: Our Bodies, Our Planet: A Parasite’s History of Us by Marcus Hall
Rating: 4.7/5
Marcus Hall’s Our Bodies, Our Planet is a revelatory, boundary-smashing work that turns our instinctive revulsion toward parasites into a lens for understanding human evolution, ecology, and even culture. With the rigor of a scientist and the narrative flair of a historian, Hall reframes these “biological freeloaders” as unsung architects of our collective story—a perspective so provocative I found myself questioning everything from hygiene dogma to conservation ethics.
What dazzled me most was Hall’s reframing of parasitism as symbiosis. His exploration of how parasites like Ascaris or Toxoplasma may subtly enhance immune resilience or even influence behavior (e.g., the eerie “zombie ant” phenomenon) reads like ecological thriller meets philosophical manifesto. I was particularly struck by passages linking parasite-host dynamics to broader planetary health—like how gut microbes might mirror Earth’s nutrient cycles. Hall’s prose balances wit (We are ecosystems with shoes) with profound insight, especially when debunking the sterility myth of modern medicine.
The book’s interdisciplinary ambition is both its brilliance and slight flaw. While chapters weaving parasitology with art history (e.g., Renaissance depictions of wormy saints) or geopolitics (parasites as wartime weapons) fascinate, they occasionally feel like detours from the core biological narrative. A tighter focus on Homo sapiens as planet and parasite might have amplified the thesis. That said, Hall’s scholarship is impeccable, particularly his critique of how Western medicine pathologized coexistence with parasites—a bias with cascading ecological consequences.
By the final page, I felt intellectually exhilarated and oddly grateful—not just for Hall’s paradigm-shifting perspective, but for the humble helminths quietly shaping our lives. This isn’t just a book; it’s a mind-expanding invitation to reconsider our place in nature’s web.
Thank you to the University of Chicago Press and Edelweiss for the advance copy. Our Bodies, Our Planet belongs on shelves alongside I Contain Multitudes] and [The Hidden Half of Nature]—a masterpiece that will leave you side-eyeing your microbiome with newfound respect.
For those that TL;DR my review, here are my final impressions:
-Turns everything you thought you knew about parasites on its head—these ‘freeloaders’ might just be the unsung heroes of human evolution.
-What if the key to human health isn’t eradication but coexistence? Hall’s groundbreaking book challenges our war on parasites—and wins.
-A masterclass in interdisciplinary thinking: blending history, biology, and ecology to redefine parasitism as nature’s most misunderstood partnership.
-Hall proves that parasites aren’t just hitchhikers—they’re architects of our immune systems, cultures, and even planetary health.
-For fans of I Contain Multitudes, this is the next essential read in microbiome science and environmental history.
-We are ecosystems with shoes—Hall’s witty, whip-smart prose makes even tapeworms fascinating.
-From zombie ants to gut microbes, this book reads like a thriller about the tiny rulers of our world.
-Ever thanked a parasite? After reading this, you might.
-Hall’s work is as transformative as Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring—but for the invisible world inside us.
Rating: 4.7/5
Marcus Hall’s Our Bodies, Our Planet is a revelatory, boundary-smashing work that turns our instinctive revulsion toward parasites into a lens for understanding human evolution, ecology, and even culture. With the rigor of a scientist and the narrative flair of a historian, Hall reframes these “biological freeloaders” as unsung architects of our collective story—a perspective so provocative I found myself questioning everything from hygiene dogma to conservation ethics.
What dazzled me most was Hall’s reframing of parasitism as symbiosis. His exploration of how parasites like Ascaris or Toxoplasma may subtly enhance immune resilience or even influence behavior (e.g., the eerie “zombie ant” phenomenon) reads like ecological thriller meets philosophical manifesto. I was particularly struck by passages linking parasite-host dynamics to broader planetary health—like how gut microbes might mirror Earth’s nutrient cycles. Hall’s prose balances wit (We are ecosystems with shoes) with profound insight, especially when debunking the sterility myth of modern medicine.
The book’s interdisciplinary ambition is both its brilliance and slight flaw. While chapters weaving parasitology with art history (e.g., Renaissance depictions of wormy saints) or geopolitics (parasites as wartime weapons) fascinate, they occasionally feel like detours from the core biological narrative. A tighter focus on Homo sapiens as planet and parasite might have amplified the thesis. That said, Hall’s scholarship is impeccable, particularly his critique of how Western medicine pathologized coexistence with parasites—a bias with cascading ecological consequences.
By the final page, I felt intellectually exhilarated and oddly grateful—not just for Hall’s paradigm-shifting perspective, but for the humble helminths quietly shaping our lives. This isn’t just a book; it’s a mind-expanding invitation to reconsider our place in nature’s web.
Thank you to the University of Chicago Press and Edelweiss for the advance copy. Our Bodies, Our Planet belongs on shelves alongside I Contain Multitudes] and [The Hidden Half of Nature]—a masterpiece that will leave you side-eyeing your microbiome with newfound respect.
For those that TL;DR my review, here are my final impressions:
-Turns everything you thought you knew about parasites on its head—these ‘freeloaders’ might just be the unsung heroes of human evolution.
-What if the key to human health isn’t eradication but coexistence? Hall’s groundbreaking book challenges our war on parasites—and wins.
-A masterclass in interdisciplinary thinking: blending history, biology, and ecology to redefine parasitism as nature’s most misunderstood partnership.
-Hall proves that parasites aren’t just hitchhikers—they’re architects of our immune systems, cultures, and even planetary health.
-For fans of I Contain Multitudes, this is the next essential read in microbiome science and environmental history.
-We are ecosystems with shoes—Hall’s witty, whip-smart prose makes even tapeworms fascinating.
-From zombie ants to gut microbes, this book reads like a thriller about the tiny rulers of our world.
-Ever thanked a parasite? After reading this, you might.
-Hall’s work is as transformative as Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring—but for the invisible world inside us.
July 19, 2025
I enjoyed this book. I liked the conversational tone and the occasional bit of humour. I found that all the science was well explained and that the author frequently waxed philosophical, sometimes at the expense of pacing. The book was interesting because the relationship between parasites and us isn’t as clearcut as I had been led to believe. Overall, this was a worthwhile read. Thank you to Edelweiss and University of Chicago Press for the digital review copy.
February 25, 2026
A terrifying argument, parasites are good because they kill rich people same as the poor so they are an instrument of social mobility, is made multiple times in the book. A less controversial one, also repeated that because we co-evolved with them we became reliant on each other and they convey some, yet not well specified but assumed benefits is equally grating. Fuck mosquitos and fuck your vague "increased immune response". People in Sardinia live longer on average not because they're ridden by parasites, they live longer because all the weak ones got killed (and benefit fraud). This is considered a good outcome only by someone farming humans (or stealing public money) and by the author.
The argument against clear cut relationships in ecosystems is more interesting. In the end, designations of parasite are simplifying.
The argument against clear cut relationships in ecosystems is more interesting. In the end, designations of parasite are simplifying.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews