The Age of Wonder, Part III

The Age of Wonder


By: Richard Holmes
Reviewed by: Felicity T., 16
Rating: Really liked it


Here goes the next episode of my review of The Age of Wonder! The truth is, I have finished it by now, but it’s taken me a while to get into a writing mood. I should work on that, because it’s not a good habit to wait to do things until you feel like it. (:

These next three chapters of the book, chapters 3-5, are written about early air ballooning, a cool guy with a weird name (Mungo Park), and more about William Herschell. Let’s start with chapter 3: “Balloonists in Heaven.” In this chapter, Holmes recounts the perilous and controversial history of the first hot/air balloons. A few things struck me about this chapter, and I think they’ll probably strike you, too. First of all, I found my 21st century brain incredulous at some of the common opinions that surrounded the first air balloons. The scientific community at the time (mid-1700s), from England to France to America, was even more incredulous at the rumors of people floating—flying—in baskets! Since you and I are used to the idea of airplanes and related extreme sports like skydiving, it was shocking to realize that this long ago, the idea of human flight had been delegated to the tall-tale/fantasy genre. No one believed that people could eventually take flight, in the sky. Even the most learned men of the age, men like Joseph Banks were skeptical when people started to talk about the possibility of a successful air balloon. And once the balloon successfully carried people into the air, the passengers were amazed when they understood a bird’s-eye view of the world beneath them. Isn’t that amazing? Honestly, I don’t think I have ever considered a map that was not from a bird’s-eye view, looking down on the lay of the land from the sky. Imagine the mind-blowing wonder these men must have experienced, being the first humans to see what the world looks like from so high up. I thought that was pretty awesome. Another thing that stood out to me in this story was the Britain-France animosity/competition. I kind of understand why England and France have often been at odds with one another, but in this chapter, I consistently felt confused about the national urge in each country to win the “air balloon race.” Why couldn’t they just have worked together? Remember, this is before Napoleon, so there is less reason for distrust (to put it mildly). I guess in the end, it didn’t really matter, because the rivalry was fuel for scientific progress. That’s not to say that the ends always justify the means. I think they did in this case, and if you have no idea what I’m talking about, you should go read the chapter.

Chapter 4, “Herschel Among the Stars,” continues the story of Herschel’s life. He continues in his discoveries, gains prestigious connections (like getting to meet Napoleon), gets married, and has a son. He’s getting a little older at this point. I know I didn’t mention her much in my previous review, but a key part of William Herschel’s biography rests with the contributions of his younger sister, Caroline. Her story has some tragic, but legitimate Cinderella heartbreak factor. After a childhood of suppression, Caroline moved in with her brother, William, and eventually became his essential, yet little-recognized assistant in his astronomical work. It’s very sad to read about how much Caroline’s connection to her brother served her sense of identity and purpose, and how ignorant he was of this. It seems that William’s marriage injured Caroline’s ties with him in many ways—she moved out—but they also served to make her more independent in her own lifestyle and astronomical discoveries. William's marriage benefitted Caroline also in the fact that it produced his son, John, who grew very close with Caroline. They had an exemplary mentor-type relationship, and it seems that John was Caroline's dearest connection in her life. In this chapter, William Herschel not only becomes something of a family man; he also becomes a key speculator in the theories of deep space, deep time, cosmic evolution and expansion. These notions alienated him from many traditional Christians at the time, because they leaned heavily toward atheism and dismissed God from their constructs. Herschel's discoveries are surprisingly close to what public school teens are taught in science classes today, which I find interesting, considering that these ideas are centuries old.

Chapter 4, "Mungo Park in Africa," was one of the shortest chapters in this book, and possibly one of my favorites. I found myself quickly endeared to the strange and introspective character of the man Mungo Park. Weird name, I know. Evidently, he was named after the Irish Saint Mungo. It's one of those 'don't ask' names, I guess. And I can live with that, because this man was seriously interesting. He was very tall, and had very scientific leanings, but at the same time, he stood outside the social norms of his (and probably our) times. Mungo was not really easy to talk to, but he was very much a thinker, and references to his journals in The Age of Wonder evidence this quality. Why was Mungo Park in this book? Because he was an early explorer into the African interior. You may not know this, but for centuries, the Western world was deeply unacquainted with the geography and dealings of Central Africa. It's pretty hard to get there, after all. To the north, you have the expansive Sahara, and the African interior is noted for its often hostile natives and, uh, not tame wildlife. So Mungo Park volunteers to try to explore some of Central Africa and to find the elusive city of Timbuktu. This story, for me, really was the saddest one yet. I would say "spoiler alert" right now, except for the realization that this is history: there are no spoilers, everything's already happened. So the tragic truth is that Mungo gets killed a few years into his perilous journey, after an unprecedented level of Western tolerance toward perceived indigenous barbarianism. Seriously, when I reached the part of the chapter where he died, I was so broken-hearted that I had to put the book down for a while. It was kind of stupid of me to expect him to survive. I mean, everyone in this book dies eventually--it takes place like two and a half centuries ago. Still, it was quite a disappointment for the hero of the story to die. In the end, Mungo became a legend and inspired many others to explore Africa, so his legacy was not in vain.

With that, I'll wrap up my second review. More will follow: there are five chapters left, so I'll try to cram them into two more posts. At this point in my reading, I remember feeling a little drained from so much condensed information, but also inspired to be a more passionate person in terms of my search for discovery and knowledge.


Recommended to: people who love to be inspired, people who like to read biographies, people who enjoy reading about science and history together, people who are into Romantic literature