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A review by nicturner89
The Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and Terror of Science by Richard Holmes
4.0
A lovely book. Well written and for the most part interesting.
As with any volume which seeks to cover so wide a province as 'science' as well as poetry and, to a lesser extent, wider social change, there are peaks and troughs when it comes to holding the reader's interest. The first chapter on Banks journey to Tahiti is wonderful, as is that framed around Mary Shelley's creation of Dr Frankenstein and his Monster. Likewise the chapters which narrate William Herschel's, and his often overlooked sister Caroline's, mapping of the cosmos are also of immense interest.
Of less interest are the two chapters given over to Humphrey Davy and his lamp. Davy is a prig and his wife, who is simultaneously tedious and preferable to her husband, plays too great a role in narrative. That said these passages are well written and entertaining and any lack of appreciation is probably down to my being unable to muster as great an enthusiasm for advances in chemistry as I can for physics and explorers being washed up on paradisiacal Pacific islands (let's charitably call this anthropology).
Fortunately I think you could just about get away with reading those chapters which interest you and skipping past the rest.
There are themes which run through the book, one of which is Joseph Banks, who, upon returning from his transoceanic jaunt founded the Royal Society. Indeed once Banks dies the book loses its way. The last chapter feels like a recitation of the exploits of sons of greater sires of whom only Faraday and Darwin, who has a walk on part, will be familiar to the layman. (I had heard of Babbage but for the life of me I couldn't tell you why).
Ultimately the story Holmes is telling is the death of the Renaissance Man. When Banks set out for the Pacific his qualifications for the task were keenness and an ability to pay his way. At his death a large part of the membership of the Royal Society were gentlemen amateurs of no training, many of whom never contributed a scientific paper. Twenty years later the idea of a fellow closer to Bertie Wooster than to Francis Crick being able to make a mark on the scientific landscape is laughable.
The age of the poet engage and musing over scientific advance was also coming to and end. Wordsworth, Byron, Percy and Mary Shelley and Coleridge are not insignificant figures in this story. No scientist was present when the challenge was set to write a ghost story that night on the shores of Lake Geneva; a challenge which led to the creation of Frankenstein. Yet by 1834 Percy Shelley, Byron and Coleridge would be dead. They would not be replaced. After Davy no major scientist wrote and published books of verse. The age of the scientist had begun.
As with any volume which seeks to cover so wide a province as 'science' as well as poetry and, to a lesser extent, wider social change, there are peaks and troughs when it comes to holding the reader's interest. The first chapter on Banks journey to Tahiti is wonderful, as is that framed around Mary Shelley's creation of Dr Frankenstein and his Monster. Likewise the chapters which narrate William Herschel's, and his often overlooked sister Caroline's, mapping of the cosmos are also of immense interest.
Of less interest are the two chapters given over to Humphrey Davy and his lamp. Davy is a prig and his wife, who is simultaneously tedious and preferable to her husband, plays too great a role in narrative. That said these passages are well written and entertaining and any lack of appreciation is probably down to my being unable to muster as great an enthusiasm for advances in chemistry as I can for physics and explorers being washed up on paradisiacal Pacific islands (let's charitably call this anthropology).
Fortunately I think you could just about get away with reading those chapters which interest you and skipping past the rest.
There are themes which run through the book, one of which is Joseph Banks, who, upon returning from his transoceanic jaunt founded the Royal Society. Indeed once Banks dies the book loses its way. The last chapter feels like a recitation of the exploits of sons of greater sires of whom only Faraday and Darwin, who has a walk on part, will be familiar to the layman. (I had heard of Babbage but for the life of me I couldn't tell you why).
Ultimately the story Holmes is telling is the death of the Renaissance Man. When Banks set out for the Pacific his qualifications for the task were keenness and an ability to pay his way. At his death a large part of the membership of the Royal Society were gentlemen amateurs of no training, many of whom never contributed a scientific paper. Twenty years later the idea of a fellow closer to Bertie Wooster than to Francis Crick being able to make a mark on the scientific landscape is laughable.
The age of the poet engage and musing over scientific advance was also coming to and end. Wordsworth, Byron, Percy and Mary Shelley and Coleridge are not insignificant figures in this story. No scientist was present when the challenge was set to write a ghost story that night on the shores of Lake Geneva; a challenge which led to the creation of Frankenstein. Yet by 1834 Percy Shelley, Byron and Coleridge would be dead. They would not be replaced. After Davy no major scientist wrote and published books of verse. The age of the scientist had begun.