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3.62 AVERAGE
3.62 AVERAGE
so far it is definitely very interesting although it is not an easy read so I'm afraid I will probably not finish it because I just can't focus on a thinking book right now with everything else going on, but I'll do my best to get as far as I can though!
update, never finished, it didn't really turn out to be what I thought it was and it was just too hard to get into even if some of the info. was interesting.
update, never finished, it didn't really turn out to be what I thought it was and it was just too hard to get into even if some of the info. was interesting.
So I may have fallen in love with Galileo a little bit. What a man! And what a book! This book was a rich, human, layered look at a really incredible life and deeply touching father-daughter bond.
I was inspired to get this as it was sitting in the Museo Galileo bookshop, and - boy - is that a fun museum! After gazing in wonder at a majestic, giant Ptolemic sphere, as well as the dried, leathery remains of Galileo's three fingers (!!!! yes, these exist and they're preserved in a weird-ass goblet thing in Room XI, visit as soon as you can, I highly recommend), I was like, hell yes I'd like to learn more.
Written in equal parts primary document, general Renaissance history lesson, and straight-up biography, this book is - in turn - equal parts deeply philosophical about the history and philosophy of empirical research and the scientific method, and deeply human about daily life in 16th century Italy (*romantic music*). I feel like Galileo's story is often framed as an iconoclastic religion vs. science show-down, featuring the honorable scientist pointing out the not-obvious-but-true (we're sitting on a spinning rock as it loops around a giant ball of fire) while shrill, shrieking forces of superstition and oppression (here embodied in the Catholic Church) violently shut him up. I was certain there was violence? But I guess I had conflated poor Giordano Bruno's story with Galileo's. There's no violence, except psychic violence and much bad feelings. And people get sick a lot, oh boy, do they - but I guess it was 400 years ago.
What's nice is that this book actually humanizes both sides of the Vatican vs. Galileo trial, and, in turn, brings out all the gritty nuances and complexities. Galileo, for example, seems eminently pragmatic, a brilliant man at the bleeding edge of a proto-scientific method, arguing with "philosophers" (which then meant both philosophers and mathematicians/scientists/etc) about the importance of using math in "natural philosophy" (i.e. physics; oh, but everything was jumbled up by then and not in these ridiculous academic divisions - a discussion for another book review, I suppose). He's also, un-paradoxically, deeply Catholic, and very quick to disavow any of that crazy Copernican (Earth-around-the-sun) stuff as soon as the Vatican leans on him. Yo, he was just playin'. The Vatican, for its part, and particularly Pope Urban-the-Roman-numeral, isn't so much shrill and regressive - so much as reacting against various internal and external pressures. Internal pressures from, it seems, other scientists with bruised egos trying to drag down Galileo, and external pressures in the form of a Lutheran revolution happening up north and everyone kinda laughin' at the Catholics/Italians. In short, it seems like Galileo definitely got the wrong end of the stick and was scapegoated. And it was definitely fascinating to see how insecure both Galileo and the Church felt about having this kerfuffle spectated by all the now-liberating-themselves Lutherans up north. "They're laughing at us!" etc etc.
But much of the drama did give me pause, and make me think of the cultural slot that science often needs to fit in, and also - oh - the majesty of empirics. The glory of creating things, of tinkering, or discovering and understanding! And - of course, in these days (hours!) of NASA's New Horizons passing Pluto - the gorgeous, mind-bending astronomy of it all!
So what about the titular daughter then? In Galileo's younger days, he had several illegitimate children with a nice Venetian woman who was not noble enough or something to marry. The eldest was a daughter and, since Galileo had no prospects of marrying her off (cuz illegitimate), he sent her to a convent when she was super young. And she grew up into, I guess, Maria von Trapp? i.e. Picture the best nun you can imagine. The nicest, sweetest, most loving, most Platonic ideal of a nun, and you have this woman, I guess. She really seemed great. And she and Galileo maintained a life-long correspondence about EVERYTHING. We've lost Galileo's letters (burned in the pits of Vatican, no doubt), but hers survive - and they're rich, funny, interesting insights into life back then. They're also a super-interesting way to contextualize Galileo's genius: here was a man who, when not working on his paradigm-shattering masterwork, had to worry about, among other things, (1) the donkey that was too stubborn to let the servant ride it, (2) many many sick nuns suffering various minor and major ailments, (3) how's the season's wine coming along?, (4) could you please send 20 scudi?, and, OK, (5) the Bubonic plague (fair).
What I'm saying is, the mix of the mundane with the magnificence was brilliantly done. It made you realize how buried genius can be. How it's so difficult to see the amazingness of what you're doing until many centuries pass. But not TOO difficult - the Vatican, after all, justifiably believed Galileo's ideas would be influential, widespread, and alter everything. And they were - immediately! As much as Galileo himself (vainly) tried to downplay and "j/k" everything.
tl;dr: Super good. Read it if you love science, a day in the life of the Renaissance, or space.
I was inspired to get this as it was sitting in the Museo Galileo bookshop, and - boy - is that a fun museum! After gazing in wonder at a majestic, giant Ptolemic sphere, as well as the dried, leathery remains of Galileo's three fingers (!!!! yes, these exist and they're preserved in a weird-ass goblet thing in Room XI, visit as soon as you can, I highly recommend), I was like, hell yes I'd like to learn more.
Written in equal parts primary document, general Renaissance history lesson, and straight-up biography, this book is - in turn - equal parts deeply philosophical about the history and philosophy of empirical research and the scientific method, and deeply human about daily life in 16th century Italy (*romantic music*). I feel like Galileo's story is often framed as an iconoclastic religion vs. science show-down, featuring the honorable scientist pointing out the not-obvious-but-true (we're sitting on a spinning rock as it loops around a giant ball of fire) while shrill, shrieking forces of superstition and oppression (here embodied in the Catholic Church) violently shut him up. I was certain there was violence? But I guess I had conflated poor Giordano Bruno's story with Galileo's. There's no violence, except psychic violence and much bad feelings. And people get sick a lot, oh boy, do they - but I guess it was 400 years ago.
What's nice is that this book actually humanizes both sides of the Vatican vs. Galileo trial, and, in turn, brings out all the gritty nuances and complexities. Galileo, for example, seems eminently pragmatic, a brilliant man at the bleeding edge of a proto-scientific method, arguing with "philosophers" (which then meant both philosophers and mathematicians/scientists/etc) about the importance of using math in "natural philosophy" (i.e. physics; oh, but everything was jumbled up by then and not in these ridiculous academic divisions - a discussion for another book review, I suppose). He's also, un-paradoxically, deeply Catholic, and very quick to disavow any of that crazy Copernican (Earth-around-the-sun) stuff as soon as the Vatican leans on him. Yo, he was just playin'. The Vatican, for its part, and particularly Pope Urban-the-Roman-numeral, isn't so much shrill and regressive - so much as reacting against various internal and external pressures. Internal pressures from, it seems, other scientists with bruised egos trying to drag down Galileo, and external pressures in the form of a Lutheran revolution happening up north and everyone kinda laughin' at the Catholics/Italians. In short, it seems like Galileo definitely got the wrong end of the stick and was scapegoated. And it was definitely fascinating to see how insecure both Galileo and the Church felt about having this kerfuffle spectated by all the now-liberating-themselves Lutherans up north. "They're laughing at us!" etc etc.
But much of the drama did give me pause, and make me think of the cultural slot that science often needs to fit in, and also - oh - the majesty of empirics. The glory of creating things, of tinkering, or discovering and understanding! And - of course, in these days (hours!) of NASA's New Horizons passing Pluto - the gorgeous, mind-bending astronomy of it all!
So what about the titular daughter then? In Galileo's younger days, he had several illegitimate children with a nice Venetian woman who was not noble enough or something to marry. The eldest was a daughter and, since Galileo had no prospects of marrying her off (cuz illegitimate), he sent her to a convent when she was super young. And she grew up into, I guess, Maria von Trapp? i.e. Picture the best nun you can imagine. The nicest, sweetest, most loving, most Platonic ideal of a nun, and you have this woman, I guess. She really seemed great. And she and Galileo maintained a life-long correspondence about EVERYTHING. We've lost Galileo's letters (burned in the pits of Vatican, no doubt), but hers survive - and they're rich, funny, interesting insights into life back then. They're also a super-interesting way to contextualize Galileo's genius: here was a man who, when not working on his paradigm-shattering masterwork, had to worry about, among other things, (1) the donkey that was too stubborn to let the servant ride it, (2) many many sick nuns suffering various minor and major ailments, (3) how's the season's wine coming along?, (4) could you please send 20 scudi?, and, OK, (5) the Bubonic plague (fair).
What I'm saying is, the mix of the mundane with the magnificence was brilliantly done. It made you realize how buried genius can be. How it's so difficult to see the amazingness of what you're doing until many centuries pass. But not TOO difficult - the Vatican, after all, justifiably believed Galileo's ideas would be influential, widespread, and alter everything. And they were - immediately! As much as Galileo himself (vainly) tried to downplay and "j/k" everything.
tl;dr: Super good. Read it if you love science, a day in the life of the Renaissance, or space.
Galileo's Daughter is really a biography of Galileo centered around letters with his daughter, Suor Maria Cheleste. A most prodigal daughter, Sister Maria asks Galileo for money, food, or supplies almost every time she writes him, and they rarely discuss much beyond the state of their health and the gifts and recipes they exchange. While Galileo's biography is fascinating, and this book covers it fairly well, the daughter hook is a bust, making this an average biography.
informative
fast-paced
emotional
informative
medium-paced
challenging
informative
slow-paced
informative
inspiring
relaxing
medium-paced
A very good book, probably a 4 star, but I'm giving it a 3 star because Sobel gives it a deceptive title. The structure and content of the book is 80% about Galileo and his theory of the heliocentric universe. The story rises and falls along that theme. Yes, Sobel includes several letters from Galileo's daughter Sister Marie Celeste, but her story is only about 20% of the book, hence the deception.
I was glad to learn more about both topics. It was interesting to read in detail about the way scientific knowledge was allowed or disallowed by Catholic authorities. I had no idea how many church leaders took an active interest in scientific topics. I didn't realize how many academics were on the church payroll. And I didn't realize how many committees were formed for supervising intellectual endeavors: teaching, research, publishing and such. There was a lot of time, money and energy invested in the process. This highlights the social construction of knowledge, which is probably happening in our own time, but it's harder to see the soup in which you swim!
I was also glad to learn more about the life of a cloistered nun. Galileo had a few illigetimate children, and he worked hard to get two of them, full sisters, cloisted in the same convent. History has several letters that Sr. Maria Celeste penned to him; none survive that he wrote to her. I read with attention about the very physical and material world that she inhabited.
Yes, she was dedicated to a spiritual life, but all living people have material needs. Her letters are filled with discussion of needle work, gardening, cooking, repair work and other activities that filled her day--and sometimes her nights. She was an intelligent, industrious, and caring person. She also had to petition her father for financial support. The sisters in her convent were constantly on the edge of starvation.
Part of the historical context also included plagues in several Italian cities. It was informative but horrifying to read about the ravages of this disease and how it affected travel, communication and commerce for Galileo, his daughter and their family and associates.
Indeed, the book was detail rich and sometimes difficult to read, but I was content to get a more complex view of Galileo and his work and to learn probably all that is available about his daughter, Marie Celeste, who was a support and comfort to him both intellectually and for her very fine skill at making citron candies for him!
I was glad to learn more about both topics. It was interesting to read in detail about the way scientific knowledge was allowed or disallowed by Catholic authorities. I had no idea how many church leaders took an active interest in scientific topics. I didn't realize how many academics were on the church payroll. And I didn't realize how many committees were formed for supervising intellectual endeavors: teaching, research, publishing and such. There was a lot of time, money and energy invested in the process. This highlights the social construction of knowledge, which is probably happening in our own time, but it's harder to see the soup in which you swim!
I was also glad to learn more about the life of a cloistered nun. Galileo had a few illigetimate children, and he worked hard to get two of them, full sisters, cloisted in the same convent. History has several letters that Sr. Maria Celeste penned to him; none survive that he wrote to her. I read with attention about the very physical and material world that she inhabited.
Yes, she was dedicated to a spiritual life, but all living people have material needs. Her letters are filled with discussion of needle work, gardening, cooking, repair work and other activities that filled her day--and sometimes her nights. She was an intelligent, industrious, and caring person. She also had to petition her father for financial support. The sisters in her convent were constantly on the edge of starvation.
Part of the historical context also included plagues in several Italian cities. It was informative but horrifying to read about the ravages of this disease and how it affected travel, communication and commerce for Galileo, his daughter and their family and associates.
Indeed, the book was detail rich and sometimes difficult to read, but I was content to get a more complex view of Galileo and his work and to learn probably all that is available about his daughter, Marie Celeste, who was a support and comfort to him both intellectually and for her very fine skill at making citron candies for him!
informative