It's ironic that the last book I read this year was The Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and Terror of Science by Richard Homes, which is considered the best science book of the year. There was an article couple of weeks ago on how science is boring!!
"ASTONISHING discoveries in space, revelations about human nature, frightening news on the environment, medical advances that will banish life-threatening diseases: an inexhaustible stream of wonders runs through the pages of New Scientist. All tell the same tale. Science is exciting. Science is cutting-edge. Science is fun.
It is now time to come clean. This glittering depiction of the quest for knowledge is... well, perhaps not an outright lie, but certainly a highly edited version of the truth. Science is not a whirlwind dance of excitement, illuminated by the brilliant strobe light of insight. It is a long, plodding journey through a dim maze of dead ends. It is painstaking data collection followed by repetitious calculation. It is revision, confusion, frustration, bureaucracy and bad coffee. In a word, science can be boring."
That's one reproachable hypothesis albeit its omnipresence. The issue of being fascinated by and addicted to science doesn't come adrenaline pumping overnight but it's like an life long beautiful romantic love story which grows every day. Richard Homes brings light to this theory so beautifully by chronically the stories of Joesph Banks, Humphry Davy and William Herschel. Science (and history) writing cannot get more thrilling than this, it has all the necessary ingredients of a Hollywood potboiler. Besides the science in the book, the human drama that unfolds and the dramatic changes people go through in their life span is something that acts as a purveyor to philosophize in general.
Reading this book makes one melancholic and wonder how life would have taken a different turned if we had read these books as a kid. But its never too late since the human curiosity and awe for the unknown can never be satiated.
"ASTONISHING discoveries in space, revelations about human nature, frightening news on the environment, medical advances that will banish life-threatening diseases: an inexhaustible stream of wonders runs through the pages of New Scientist. All tell the same tale. Science is exciting. Science is cutting-edge. Science is fun.
It is now time to come clean. This glittering depiction of the quest for knowledge is... well, perhaps not an outright lie, but certainly a highly edited version of the truth. Science is not a whirlwind dance of excitement, illuminated by the brilliant strobe light of insight. It is a long, plodding journey through a dim maze of dead ends. It is painstaking data collection followed by repetitious calculation. It is revision, confusion, frustration, bureaucracy and bad coffee. In a word, science can be boring."
That's one reproachable hypothesis albeit its omnipresence. The issue of being fascinated by and addicted to science doesn't come adrenaline pumping overnight but it's like an life long beautiful romantic love story which grows every day. Richard Homes brings light to this theory so beautifully by chronically the stories of Joesph Banks, Humphry Davy and William Herschel. Science (and history) writing cannot get more thrilling than this, it has all the necessary ingredients of a Hollywood potboiler. Besides the science in the book, the human drama that unfolds and the dramatic changes people go through in their life span is something that acts as a purveyor to philosophize in general.
Reading this book makes one melancholic and wonder how life would have taken a different turned if we had read these books as a kid. But its never too late since the human curiosity and awe for the unknown can never be satiated.
"Two things fill my mind with ever new and increasing wonder and awe, the more often and persistently I reflect upon them: the starry heaven above me and the moral law within me... I see them in front of me and unite them immediately with the consciousness of my own existence" - Closing phrase of Immanuel Kant's Critique of Practical Reason (1788)
No comments:
Post a Comment