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3.62 AVERAGE
3.62 AVERAGE
"I have never met a man so ignorant that I couldn't learn something from him."
I truly enjoyed this book and would recommend it to anyone who is interested in the history of space discovries and of modern science.
Jupiter has always been my favourite planet and Io has always been my favourite moon in our galaxy, this naturally led me to being very fascinated by Galileo and his discovries. I learnt so much more about the philosopher and the man dubbed the father of modern science; it was an incredibly kind and progressive individual. I was also unaware of all that he discovered.
I loved that the novel contained letters from his daughter, it gave a beautiful insight to the man he was.
I truly enjoyed this book and would recommend it to anyone who is interested in the history of space discovries and of modern science.
Jupiter has always been my favourite planet and Io has always been my favourite moon in our galaxy, this naturally led me to being very fascinated by Galileo and his discovries. I learnt so much more about the philosopher and the man dubbed the father of modern science; it was an incredibly kind and progressive individual. I was also unaware of all that he discovered.
I loved that the novel contained letters from his daughter, it gave a beautiful insight to the man he was.
A bit of a slog at the end, but overall an interesting look at the era. It's really amazing that any advancements in science were made in such an environment.
I grew up Protestant. I mean PROTESTANT. I don't think there was a Catholic in my family for 500 years. So, now I'm very curious about anything to do with medieval or renaissance history, which naturally includes Catholic history. This book taught me a lot about those subjects and helped me realized that I'm enthralled with physics, too. I'm also very impressed with Galileo -- of course.
I found this a fascinating history of Galileo's life and times through the lens of his daugher's letters from her convent. A great book.
Hooks are delightful and can gather an audience, but, if they don't deliver on their foretold promises, you risk alienating that audience altogether. And, for a while, I thought this idea was going to be the case here.
The book opens with a letter from Suor Maria Celeste, the daughter of our imminent Galileo Galei, the man Albert Einstein once called the father of modern science. As the letter unfolds, the reader imagines the delight of getting to know this unknown woman of the 16th century—and perhaps even learning of her hidden contributions to science or art. Alas, that was not to be the case. (Unless you wish to call her contribution to her father's emotional wellbeing her life's work—which, in all seriousness, Celeste would have loved—but this is probably not what modern readers have in mind.)
By p.104 I was even feeling some repugnance towards her when she writes to her father: "I readily concede that you are the one to correct and advise me in all matters, just as I desire you to do and would so appreciate your doing, for I realize how little knowledge and ability I can justly call my own."
I started to think the fact that I'd probably take away from this book was that those famous frilly neck collars that appeared in all of Galileo's portraits? (See the cover if unsure.) They were made by his daughter: sewn, bleached, and laundered all with ridiculously intricate care. Poor, Celeste.
But I was wrong. And Celeste wouldn't have wanted my pity.
I was reading this book within the context of the 21st Century promise/hook. And after a while, I got over myself some. Suor Maria Celeste, named Virginia before taking her vows, was a daughter who lived and died in a convent, one chosen by her father from a very young age. Unable to leave after taking her vows, she spent her entire life behind the convent walls, where she was tasked with many many chores, provided very little food, and given even fewer opportunities for sleep.
But upon reading further, I began to appreciate the relationship between Galileo and Maria Celeste, seeing it for its uniqueness in a time when women were not given credit for much at all. No, she was never taught science. It's doubtful it ever crossed Galileo's mind to do so. But she was taught writing and reading--and, in fact, often transcribed Galileo's early works in her beautiful penmanship.
Galileo never married--though he had three children with a woman from Florence: Maria Celeste, another daughter who never wrote (and may not have been able to) and a son, who was your typical prodigal disappointment. (It is beyond frustrating to read of Maria Celeste locked away in this convent, while her younger brother squanders his opportunities.) I don't know (and I'd guess we can't know) whether Galileo had lovers after the birth of his children, but it does seem that his daughter provided him with the emotional support of a wife and companion. He needed her in order to devote his life to science—and, in fact, he later moved to Arcetri, where the convent resided, so that they could converse daily in person. (He literally lived a few blocks away for about a decade and likely would have continued to do so until his death if the Inquisitors hadn't snapped him up in their toothy jaws.) So I guess it's that old trope--that behind every successful man is the woman who supports him. But I think this book gives Maria Celeste her welcomed spot in history.
Galileo was a devoutly religious man--and it was fascinating to learn more about his trial before the Inquisitors, which was a literal trial of the Earth vs. Sun for the center of the world. Here, Sobel gives us the transcripts, and it's simply incredible to read. Somewhere along the way, I realized that I likely wouldn't have read about this life of Galileo without that somewhat misleading hook, and I was glad the hook had worked.
And, in the end, I decided it wasn't misleading. Maria Celeste lived a life of her own. She deserves recognition for what she chose to be and who she was.
The book opens with a letter from Suor Maria Celeste, the daughter of our imminent Galileo Galei, the man Albert Einstein once called the father of modern science. As the letter unfolds, the reader imagines the delight of getting to know this unknown woman of the 16th century—and perhaps even learning of her hidden contributions to science or art. Alas, that was not to be the case. (Unless you wish to call her contribution to her father's emotional wellbeing her life's work—which, in all seriousness, Celeste would have loved—but this is probably not what modern readers have in mind.)
By p.104 I was even feeling some repugnance towards her when she writes to her father: "I readily concede that you are the one to correct and advise me in all matters, just as I desire you to do and would so appreciate your doing, for I realize how little knowledge and ability I can justly call my own."
I started to think the fact that I'd probably take away from this book was that those famous frilly neck collars that appeared in all of Galileo's portraits? (See the cover if unsure.) They were made by his daughter: sewn, bleached, and laundered all with ridiculously intricate care. Poor, Celeste.
But I was wrong. And Celeste wouldn't have wanted my pity.
I was reading this book within the context of the 21st Century promise/hook. And after a while, I got over myself some. Suor Maria Celeste, named Virginia before taking her vows, was a daughter who lived and died in a convent, one chosen by her father from a very young age. Unable to leave after taking her vows, she spent her entire life behind the convent walls, where she was tasked with many many chores, provided very little food, and given even fewer opportunities for sleep.
But upon reading further, I began to appreciate the relationship between Galileo and Maria Celeste, seeing it for its uniqueness in a time when women were not given credit for much at all. No, she was never taught science. It's doubtful it ever crossed Galileo's mind to do so. But she was taught writing and reading--and, in fact, often transcribed Galileo's early works in her beautiful penmanship.
Galileo never married--though he had three children with a woman from Florence: Maria Celeste, another daughter who never wrote (and may not have been able to) and a son, who was your typical prodigal disappointment. (It is beyond frustrating to read of Maria Celeste locked away in this convent, while her younger brother squanders his opportunities.) I don't know (and I'd guess we can't know) whether Galileo had lovers after the birth of his children, but it does seem that his daughter provided him with the emotional support of a wife and companion. He needed her in order to devote his life to science—and, in fact, he later moved to Arcetri, where the convent resided, so that they could converse daily in person. (He literally lived a few blocks away for about a decade and likely would have continued to do so until his death if the Inquisitors hadn't snapped him up in their toothy jaws.) So I guess it's that old trope--that behind every successful man is the woman who supports him. But I think this book gives Maria Celeste her welcomed spot in history.
Galileo was a devoutly religious man--and it was fascinating to learn more about his trial before the Inquisitors, which was a literal trial of the Earth vs. Sun for the center of the world. Here, Sobel gives us the transcripts, and it's simply incredible to read. Somewhere along the way, I realized that I likely wouldn't have read about this life of Galileo without that somewhat misleading hook, and I was glad the hook had worked.
And, in the end, I decided it wasn't misleading. Maria Celeste lived a life of her own. She deserves recognition for what she chose to be and who she was.
Maria Celeste reminds me of a friend of mine -- very capable and smart, so kind and helpful (nearly to fault, if it weren't clearly making them happy), and a joy to talk to. The relationship between her and her father in her adulthood sounded sweet. I'm grateful to the author for presenting it among bits of historical and personal context, which made it easier to paint a mental picture of the life of a figure I usually imagine as too grand to walk amongst people.
I'd recommend this book to anyone curious about science history and/or the interplay of science and religion. As a previous physics and astronomy student, I found myself thinking of the book as a spinoff from school texts that referenced Galileo, so that was fun. Fascinating read.
I'd recommend this book to anyone curious about science history and/or the interplay of science and religion. As a previous physics and astronomy student, I found myself thinking of the book as a spinoff from school texts that referenced Galileo, so that was fun. Fascinating read.
informative
medium-paced
emotional
informative
reflective
slow-paced
Great read. History in a well-written narrative. Although I enjoyed it immensely, it's one of those titles that you can pick up, read a chapter, and put down again. Gotta have one of those on your shelf now and again.
I'm looking forward to diving into Longitude soon.
I'm looking forward to diving into Longitude soon.
informative
slow-paced