James is writing about unintentional scientific breakthroughs, which he divides into clumsiness; misfortunes - where things went wrong for the desired outcome, but then achieved something different (a fair number of these are medical); surprises, where results are unexpected; and eurekas, where a major breakthrough is caused by an apparently insignificant observation or comment.
The topics are wide ranging - everything from guncotton to the telephone, Super Soakers (oddly in the 'major breakthrough' Eureka section) to superglue. It's not all inventions, either (though somehow these feel the most appealing) - there are longer pieces, for example, on electromagnetic waves, from Newton's rainbow to gamma rays, and on the Belyayev silver fox experiment with its significance for views on adaption and genetics. And the icing on the cake is that most of the pieces include entertaining stories that bring the accidental discovery alive.
I did genuinely enjoy reading this book, but it has two flaws, the bigger of which pulled it down from 4 to 3 stars for me. The smaller one is that in his mad rush, James can give insufficient detail. For example, he tells of a student called George Dantzig who arrived late at a maths lecture, copied down what he thought was the homework from the blackboard and duly solved the problem, only to discover that it was 'one of the most difficult unsolved mathematical problems in history'. Only we're never told anything about the problem itself. In reality there were two problems, both in statistics, neither of which were key unsolved mathematical problems - and it would have been nice to have had a little detail. (James doesn't mention the obvious inspiration here for Good Will Hunting either.)
The bigger issue is that there's quite a lot that is inaccurate (to be fair to James, the exaggeration mentioned above came from Dantzig's obituary, but there are better sources). A couple of examples. In the story of penicillin - an essential for a book like this - we are told that Fleming made use of Penicillium rubrum, while a few years later a better alternative was discover in the US: 'the bacteria Penicillium rubrum'. Leaving aside the obvious fact that a bacterium is not a mould, neither mould was actually Penicillium rubrum (admittedly Fleming's was initially mistaken for this) - and they obviously weren't the same species or there wouldn't be much point.
Later on we learn about the Eadweard Muybridge's development of moving pictures - this story is littered with errors. James connects everything from Muybridge changing his name (originally Edward Muggeridge) to his development of moving pictures to a disastrous accident where he suffered a head injury. In fact, Muybridge started changing his name long before the accident and his ideas were not based on 'time slowing down in the accident' but a combination of existing toys like the zoetrope, and his blossoming career as a photographer. He was also not acquitted on a murder charge, as James says, on the grounds of brain damage - this approach was tried and failed. His defence lawyer changed tack, and Muybridge was acquitted because his actions were considered the correct response to adultery by a jury. Finally we are told that moving pictures work by persistence of vision, a Victorian explanation that has long proved incorrect. (Perhaps James should have read this book.)
These and other errors are unfortunate, because this is a genuinely fun book that keeps up the interest in its frantic pace. If you can live with not everything being exactly accurate, though, it's well worth the read.
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Review by Brian Clegg - See all Brian's online articles or subscribe to a weekly email free here
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