Full of interesting detail and anecdotage, a warm and readable history of a key era in science.
How England’s Royal Society was born from, and continued to foster, the groundbreaking innovations of scientists.
“The revolution in science was . . . not the work of one man, but of a Fellowship,” writes Gribbin (The Scientists, 2003, etc.), seeking to spread praise more widely for the breakthrough usually attributed to Isaac Newton. In 1600, William Gilbert, an Elizabethan physician, published the first careful investigation of magnetism, with conclusions firmly based in experiments that Gilbert himself performed and described for the reader. Another Elizabethan doctor, William Harvey, used experimental techniques to trace the circulation of blood. Around the same time, Sir Francis Bacon laid a philosophical foundation for the scientific method. Bacon’s emphasis on experiment and on the practical value of scientific investigations inspired a group of men who began meeting at Oxford in the 1650s to discuss scientific questions. The group included several who would go on to make their marks in science, but one stood out: Robert Hooke, perhaps the last true scientific polymath. When the Oxford group evolved into the Royal Society in 1660, Hooke became the leading light of British science. In fact, Gribbin argues, Hooke clearly anticipated several of Newton’s chief discoveries; only his low social status and less-developed mathematical skill kept him from being granted equal stature with his rival. Newton, for his part, did his best to keep Hooke in the shadows, going so far as to lose the only known portrait of his competitor when he supervised the relocation of the Society to new quarters in 1710. Gribbin concludes the narrative with Edmund Halley, probably the finest astronomer of his era. Halley encouraged Newton to publish, and his 1705 prediction of the return of the comet now named for him demonstrated the accuracy and universality of Newtonian theories.
Full of interesting detail and anecdotage, a warm and readable history of a key era in science.Pub Date: April 5, 2007
ISBN: 1-58567-831-7
Page Count: 352
Publisher: Overlook
Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2006
A tasty, educational treat for tech heads and other web denizens.
The internet was not meant for the likes of us—and yet we have it, through means that tech historian McCullough capably recounts in this wide-ranging history of the internet era.
It wasn’t so long ago that technologists dismissed the thought that ordinary mortals would have a use for a computer and not so long ago that the internet was a skeletal version of its present self, confined to computers administered by the military-industrial complex. Chalk the change up, writes the author, to the opening of the net to civilian traffic—and then to techies at the University of Illinois who, building on earlier platforms, launched the first browser in 1993, early on called X Mosaic “because it was designed to work with X Window, a graphical user interface popular with users of Unix machines.” If any of the terms in the preceding clause are mysterious, then this book may prove tough slogging, but it has plenty of odd drama. For example, Bill Gates came calling on what later became Netscape, hoping to build an alliance; when rebuffed, he retooled Microsoft in order to build a browser of its own, having quickly divined how important the internet would become. McCullough’s story is populated by numerous geeky heroes, notable among them Steve Jobs but most far less familiar, along with some free-riders and businesspeople who realized that the internet’s free gift to the world was something that could be turned into a cash cow. Writes the author, “the Internet might have been launched in Silicon Valley, but to a large extent, it was monetized by startups in New York City.” Most of the individual components of McCullough’s story, which closes with the arrival of the “completely, conceptually perfect” iPhone in 2007, are well-documented, but few other histories of modern technology connect them so fluently. In this, the narrative resembles Steven Levy’s by now ancient Hackers (1984) and John Markoff’s more recent What the Dormouse Said (2005); it compares favorably to both.
A tasty, educational treat for tech heads and other web denizens.Pub Date: Oct. 23, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-63149-307-2
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Liveright/Norton
Review Posted Online: July 30, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2018
A comprehensive, fact-packed examination of the deep's largest denizens, tracing the patterns that connect mythology, biology, and the human imagination. Marine illustrator Ellis (Men and Whales, 1991) starts with the legends and teases out their kernels of fact, drawing on material from medieval bestiaries to cutting-edge scientific discoveries. Sailors ogling mermaids from afar were really staring at manatees, he concludes; the biblical Leviathan was probably the whale (which would be overhunted in later times). The scores of people who have reported sightings of giant sea serpents certainly saw something, Ellis believes, probably a red- crested ribbon fish or the arm of a giant squid basking near the surface. He moves his discussion a step further than simple myth debunking, however, by showing how these creatures have been remythologized in the contemporary consciousness. The whale, once a commodity, is now a symbol, its image adorning T-shirts and its song analyzed for signs of an intelligence greater than our own. Hollywood's special effects have introduced sharks and giant squid as diabolical forces carefully plotting to wreak havoc on the human race. No matter how many Latin names are bestowed on these animals, the author asserts, their evasiveness will continue to ensure their status as ``monsters.'' Ellis has included a hefty dose of marine biology, especially regarding squid and octopus, and his technical writing deflates much of the excitement his subject can provide; titillation has been banished in favor of analysis. The title promises entertainment, but the book might actually be more useful as a reference text—the attention to detail (sightings, strandings, anatomy) is exhaustive, sometimes excessively so. Still, a handful of mysteries are allowed to remain mysterious. Intelligent and often provocative writing, but devotees of Ripley's Believe It or Not will find these sea monsters a bit too tame for their taste. (120 b&w photographs and drawings, not seen)
Pub Date: Nov. 14, 1994
ISBN: 0-679-40639-5
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1994
© Copyright 2025 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
