Of course it is important to isolate that protein, identify that gene, write that grant, and prepare that lecture. But for the holidays, consider the Big Picture, that unmanageable landscape that absorbs your own specialty along with that of everyone else. Unless you have a Nobel Prize medal stashed in the desk drawer, or an "emeritus" in your job title, it's probably difficult to make the Big Picture a day-to-day consideration. Hence, this book list. No one of the following titles can provide a god's-eye view of the natural world, but if you make time to browse through several of the books selected herein, you might be able to shake off a sense of dread overspecialization as you contemplate a return to the lab after the holidays.

In Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge (Alfred A. Knopf, 1998, 322 pp., $26), biologist Edward O. Wilson discusses the often ignored or overlooked connections he sees between all areas of learning. At the time of the book's publication earlier this year, some readers divided their colleagues into two groups - those who had read the book and those who had not.

Others saw a less than rock-solid intellectual foundation underlying Wilson's thesis. The buzz has died down, but the value of the book has not lessened. Wilson presents thought-provoking arguments with interesting historical references. Appreciating the unity of knowledge, as Wilson imagines it, is worth both the price of this book and the time spent reading it.

Another respected veteran of biological research, Ernst Mayr, reaches beyond reductionism to the basic question: What is biology? His answer, This Is Biology: The Science of the Living World (Harvard University Press, 1997, 352 pp., $29.95; Belknap Press, 1998, 352 pp., $15.95, paper), includes observations and conclusions gathered from a long life of profitable study, research, and contemplation. If you have forgotten that biology is more than a molecular jigsaw puzzle, more than DNA protocols and gene cloning, reading Mayr's work can change your perspective. The individual chapters of his book on development, evolution, and other major subdivisions of the life sciences are all influenced by the author's belief that grasping the major principles of biology requires more than mastering the mechanics of the physical sciences.

A complete understanding of the field may also require greater recognition of the influence of language on the ways biological research and progress are viewed. That is the thesis of Evelyn Fox Keller's book, Refiguring Life: Metaphors of Twentieth-Century Biology (Columbia University Press, 1995, 134 pp., $21; 1996, $15.50, paper). Based on a series of three lectures, Keller makes her points with "highly readable, jargon-free prose," according to our reviewer. Drawing on many disciplines, she demonstrates "how metaphorical language can have lasting effects on the course of science."

It should be possible to apply some of Keller's lessons to Galileo's Commandment: An Anthology of Great Science Writing (W.H. Freeman, 1997, 450 pp., $26.95), edited by Edmund Blair Bolles. The collection includes writing by both professional scientists and science writers. Many of the selections are examples of exceptional science writing. Others read like what many have come to expect from less-gifted scientific stylists.

Nevertheless, as one of the few anthologies in its field, the collection easily qualifies as good browsing material, if your interests extend to the history of science. Many of the topics concern biology, which for many biologists (remember the section reserved for "relevance" in grant applications) means, ultimately, human biology.

From our hominid ancestors to humanity's present stage of evolution, Ian Tattersall provides an overview of our species in Becoming Human: Evolution and Human Uniqueness (Harcourt Brace & Co., 1998, 272 pp., $27). This survey reflects the personal views of a highly qualified expert, who attempts to demonstrate that humans represent a "new concept" in evolution. Paleoanthropologists work in a field full of controversy, much of it due to differing views of evolution and interpretations of the fossil record. Tatersall can be a rewarding, opinionated guide to human evolution.

Once modern humans appear on the scene, Jared Diamond takes over with an engrossing explanation of nothing less than the fate of the species in Guns, Germs and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies (W.W. Norton & Co., 1997, 480 pp., $27.50; W.W. Norton & Co., 480 pp., 1999, $14.95, paper; Audio Scholar/Penton Overseas, 1998, $24.95, audiocassette). Whether or not Diamond succeeds in doing for the history of civilization what Darwin did for evolution, the result is an erudite synthesis that seeks to explain why human history unfolded as it did.

Despite the historical sweep of Diamond's book, he could not include the full history of all human endeavor. Roy Porter ably covers in detail one aspect of that history in The Greatest Benefit to Mankind: A Medical History of Humanity (W.W. Norton & Co., 1998, 800 pp., $35). Porter explains how many diseases moved into the human camp as civilization and agriculture developed. The practice of medicine evolved as human society developed. "Porter's ability to integrate this vast body of material within the framework of his narrative" impressed our reviewer as extraordinary.

For a lighter look at human biology, take the trouble to locate a copy of The Trouble With Testosterone and Other Essays on the Biology of the Human Predicament (Touchstone Books, 288 pp., 1997, $23; Touchstone Books, 288 pp., 1998, $13.00, paper), by Robert M. Sapolsky. This entertaining, well written collection of 18 essays tackles the biological bases of behavior in primates, including humans. Sapolsky, an experienced researcher, seems to lack the awe many authors bring to science and offers, instead, wit and a skeptical intellect. Upon first review, HMS Beagle called the book "fresh, compelling and thoroughly readable." That qualifies it as good holiday reading material.