Patricia Fara has written a number of accessible history of science titles in the past, for example Science: a four thousand year history and Sex, Botany and Empire - but they have been conventional, if readable, academic titles. In her book on Erasmus Darwin (finally making it into paperback after eight years), she subverts the genre, along the way making it the most enjoyable relatively heavy-duty history of science book I've ever read.
Fara claims in her introduction that her approach was inspired by reading Lolita on a train: one of Humbert Humbert's thoughts inspired her to ponder the nature of history and how the process of uncovering what happened in the past differs from the straight line narrative we usually read. As a result, Fara draws us into the unstructured process of discovery, where new, sometimes serendipitous, findings can send the writer off on a whole new tack. (I say 'claims in her introduction' not in a negative way, but because Fara does warn 'in this book about Darwin, my [fictionalized] personal narratives are not necessarily completely true.')
The subject of the book is Erasmus Darwin, grandfather of the somewhat better-known Charles, best remembered for his long poems on biology and nature - distinctly impenetrable to modern eyes - and as a member of the famous Lunar Society that brought together Midlands natural philosophy enthusiasts at the end of the eighteenth century. Although the book does have some biographical content, the focus is Darwin's writings and particularly on a mocking spoof of his work called The Loves of Triangles, which shifts the focus of Darwin's The Loves of Plants onto mathematical shapes in what is primarily an attack on his politics and to a degree religious beliefs. Along the way, we discover that Darwin was more than a medic who dabbled in biology and slightly prefigured evolutionary theory: there is a strong political thread in his work, including a focus on the abolition of slavery, along with enthusiasm for industry and for sexual themes (with the inevitable modesty of the day).
I confess that as a science writer myself, I am probably an ideal audience for this book. I identify totally with the way that discoveries made during the research and writing can shift the direction of a book as it is written, and require the author to suddenly plunge into a new topic in a way that's delightful for her or him to experience. And there's something refreshingly honest about Fara's admission of struggling with Darwin's stodgy, drawn-out poetical style - something anyone addressing many Victorian novels we are supposed to find wonderful may also have experienced.
If I have a criticism, it's that there isn't enough of this meta-text in the book. Fara sets out to produce a very different form of history of science title - and succeeds - but perhaps too high a percentage of the content has a conventional form and ends up exposing us to repeated exposition of Darwin's principle themes and stodgy versification. However, this doesn't undermine the fact that this is a wonderful way to make the process of exploring the history of science come alive.
This study of Darwin through his didactic poetry uses the approach on a small and relatively insignificant corner of scientific history - I would love to see the same approach, made even more bold and personal, applied to some of the big picture aspects of the subject. For now, though, this was an impressive step forward in a field not always famous for its innovation.
Fara claims in her introduction that her approach was inspired by reading Lolita on a train: one of Humbert Humbert's thoughts inspired her to ponder the nature of history and how the process of uncovering what happened in the past differs from the straight line narrative we usually read. As a result, Fara draws us into the unstructured process of discovery, where new, sometimes serendipitous, findings can send the writer off on a whole new tack. (I say 'claims in her introduction' not in a negative way, but because Fara does warn 'in this book about Darwin, my [fictionalized] personal narratives are not necessarily completely true.')
The subject of the book is Erasmus Darwin, grandfather of the somewhat better-known Charles, best remembered for his long poems on biology and nature - distinctly impenetrable to modern eyes - and as a member of the famous Lunar Society that brought together Midlands natural philosophy enthusiasts at the end of the eighteenth century. Although the book does have some biographical content, the focus is Darwin's writings and particularly on a mocking spoof of his work called The Loves of Triangles, which shifts the focus of Darwin's The Loves of Plants onto mathematical shapes in what is primarily an attack on his politics and to a degree religious beliefs. Along the way, we discover that Darwin was more than a medic who dabbled in biology and slightly prefigured evolutionary theory: there is a strong political thread in his work, including a focus on the abolition of slavery, along with enthusiasm for industry and for sexual themes (with the inevitable modesty of the day).
I confess that as a science writer myself, I am probably an ideal audience for this book. I identify totally with the way that discoveries made during the research and writing can shift the direction of a book as it is written, and require the author to suddenly plunge into a new topic in a way that's delightful for her or him to experience. And there's something refreshingly honest about Fara's admission of struggling with Darwin's stodgy, drawn-out poetical style - something anyone addressing many Victorian novels we are supposed to find wonderful may also have experienced.
If I have a criticism, it's that there isn't enough of this meta-text in the book. Fara sets out to produce a very different form of history of science title - and succeeds - but perhaps too high a percentage of the content has a conventional form and ends up exposing us to repeated exposition of Darwin's principle themes and stodgy versification. However, this doesn't undermine the fact that this is a wonderful way to make the process of exploring the history of science come alive.
This study of Darwin through his didactic poetry uses the approach on a small and relatively insignificant corner of scientific history - I would love to see the same approach, made even more bold and personal, applied to some of the big picture aspects of the subject. For now, though, this was an impressive step forward in a field not always famous for its innovation.
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