A few days back, I was sent a link to an essay by Neal Stephenson, (author of Anathem, The Baroque cycle, Cryptonomicon and other novels). It is In the Beginning was the Command Line, and is an extended, detailed disquisition on operating systems and other stuff. Like universes and so forth.
And it kind of reminded me of The Cathedral and the Bazaar by Eric S. Raymond from around 1999 onwards (I think - it evolves).
Then, yesterday, while reading an entertaining book about typefaces and fonts ("Just My Type: A Book About Fonts", by Simon Garfield, 2010), I came acros a strong recommendation for Eric Gill's "Essay on Typography" from 1931.
All of this made me want to essay some thoughts about Essays.
It seems obvious from at least two of the examples above that the form is far from dead. Rather, it has acquired a huge new lease of life via the Internet - but also some recent striking newspaper essays impressed me. For exmple. a Simon Schama article for the NYT springs to mind from around six years ago, on radical American history and how it might act as a key for challenging right-wing responses to 9/11.
Essays are not just non-fiction books. They - ideally - should be shorter, and more focused. So neither On The Origin Of The Species nor The Principia Mathematica counts an essay. For me, On Fairy Stories just scrapes under the wire.
And the latter also hints at another aspect of essays - they are usually colloquial, and accessible. They may even, like On Fairy Stories, have begun as talks or lectures. But typically not political speeches. Repackaging the Gettysburg Address does not make it an essay.
And the really great essays may often be annoying. They get under the skin, and you disagree with them -while at the same time being carried along by the prose.
They have influence - they live on, people remember them and cite them, continue to laugh along with them -or build scientific or other academic disciplines based upon them
So here then is a short, random selection of essays (loosely defined, some other short nonfiction is in it) that seem to me reasonably seminal, or interesting or something. As a general note, I will admit to a gneral European rather than American bias. For which no apologies. And for no readily discernable reason, they are arranged in date order.
Commentariolus, Copernicus, Nicholas, 1514. This is his short outline/precis of what later became "De revolutionibus orbium coelestium." (On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres). In other words one of the most significant scientific works of the renaissance.
Of Friendship, Bacon, Francis, 1625. Bacon wrote many esays, of course, but this is one of the best.
Areopagitica, Milton, John, 1644. On the freedon of speech - Milton's great anti-censorship polemic.
The Education of Women, Defoe, Daniel, 1719. He's in favour, of course.
A Modest Proposal For Preventing The Children of Poor People in Ireland From Being A Burden to Their Parents or Country, and For Making Them Beneficial to The Public, Swift, Jonathan, 1729. OK so who hasn't read this? Really? Stop reading this blog now and go and read this essay at once. It's essential. Now read it again. Good, isn't it?
Advice on the Choice of a Mistress, Franklin, Benjamin, 1745. Just because it is funny...
And now it's time for Hazlitt - so much loved and eulogised by the late, great Michael Foot. Many to choose from, but I limited the selection to three:
On Corporate Bodies, William Hazlitt, c.1821. Marvellous splenetic rant. "Corporate bodies are more corrupt and profligate than individuals, because they have more power to do mischief, and are less amenable to disgrace or punishment. They feel neither shame, remorse, gratitude, nor goodwill"
On Going a Journey, William Hazlitt, c.1821. This is the witty, calm, poised iconoclastic Hazlitt grabbing a subject and dealing with it at length.
On The Pleasure Of Hating, William Hazlitt, c.1826. For my own part, as I once said, I like a friend the better for having faults that one can talk about.
The Chemical History of a Candle, Faraday, Michael, 1860. I can't really claim this as an essay in all honesty, but what the hell.. Probably Faraday's most famous Christmas lecture series.
On The Decay of the Art Of Lying, Twain, Mark, 1882. Lying nees to be done properly. No high-minded man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly lying of the present day without grieving to see a noble art so prostituted.
The Soul of Man Under Socialism, Wilde, Oscar, 1891. Paradoxical, libertarian, artistic, witty, human and annoying in equal measures.
De Profundis, Wilde, Oscar, 1897. Really, a letter to Douglas written from Reading jail.
Mr Bennett and Mrs Brown, Woolf, Virginia, 1923. A beautiful, great modernist blast against Arnold Bennet and the "realist" novel.
On Being the Right Size, Haldane, J.B.S, 1928. A beautiful short piece and the origin of the notion that a horse splashes.
A Hanging, Orwell, George, 1931. Classic reportage and feeling.
The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, Benjamin, Walter, 1936. Still fresh and relevant, despite the fact that we are several generations of technology on.
Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics, Tolkien, J.R.R., 1936. It could be argued that this was the first piece of writing that really began to understand and sympathise with Beowulf.
If Hazlitt has to be limited to just three essays then the same must apply to Orwell. But it is hard, very hard.
Wells, Hitler and the World State, Orwell, George, 1941. Timely, precise, astonishing.
Decline of the English Murder, Orwell, George, 1946. Famous and rightly so.
On Fairy Stories, Tolkien, J.R.R., 1947. Could be said to have been the piece that kicked off a whole industry of thinking and thought about fantasy and the fantastic.
There's Plenty of Room at the Bottom, Feynman, Richard P., 1959. The founding text, I think, of nanotechnology.
Structure, Sign, and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences, Derrida, Jacques, 1966. The real secret joy of this piece is just how impenetrable it is!
The Death of the Author, Barthes, Roland, 1967. Arguifying against the establishment ways of seeing art and culture - and winning...
Transgressing the Boundaries: Towards a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity, Sokal, Alan D., 1994. And finally, the only possible, and wholly necessary, corrective to the Derrida and his brethren.
Showing posts with label Faraday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Faraday. Show all posts
Friday, 18 May 2012
Sunday, 7 November 2010
Why Kew? (Age of Wonder)
If we spent a pleasant later-Summer day last month in Kew, looking at the buildings and all sorts of things, one of the stronger reasons why I wanted to go was that I'd just finished reading Richard Holmes's The Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and Terror of Science.
This is his 'relay race of scientific stories' - telling the tale of the second scientific revolution in Britain (at the end of the eighteenth century). From a starting point of Joseph Banks' trip to Tahiti, he tells the stories - in particular - of Davy and the Herschels, as well as those of the early balloonists; Mungo Park in Africa and Frankenstein. Coleridge's philosophy and influence is ever-present, and Holmes also tells the story of the Royal Society under Banks, and the succeeding generation of scientists (John Herschel, Faraday amongst many).
It's very compellingly written, and although the subject matter in places may be gnarled and hard to cut through, he does so with a certain lightness of touch which can be quite beguiling. (Although on the downside this does mean Holmes can be somewhat self-indulgent, as when he puts in a pleas for GM Food in one of his otherwise-excellent footnotes).
Banks of course was the first Director at Kew. The book doesn't discuss his work there very much (by that point in Banks's life the narrative focuses more on his Presidency of the Royal Society and his growing influence on the development of all Sciences through that office.
So I thought it would be interesting to go to Kew. Clearly correct (technically it hadn't been my idea originally but I'd been glad to go along). There is a lot about the history & heritage on the Kew InterWeb site (where they also suggest that Banks wasn't the first Director - reading between the lines he was either the second, or he was a Superintendent, in charge but without the title. So I suppose I got that wrong).
This is his 'relay race of scientific stories' - telling the tale of the second scientific revolution in Britain (at the end of the eighteenth century). From a starting point of Joseph Banks' trip to Tahiti, he tells the stories - in particular - of Davy and the Herschels, as well as those of the early balloonists; Mungo Park in Africa and Frankenstein. Coleridge's philosophy and influence is ever-present, and Holmes also tells the story of the Royal Society under Banks, and the succeeding generation of scientists (John Herschel, Faraday amongst many).
It's very compellingly written, and although the subject matter in places may be gnarled and hard to cut through, he does so with a certain lightness of touch which can be quite beguiling. (Although on the downside this does mean Holmes can be somewhat self-indulgent, as when he puts in a pleas for GM Food in one of his otherwise-excellent footnotes).
Banks of course was the first Director at Kew. The book doesn't discuss his work there very much (by that point in Banks's life the narrative focuses more on his Presidency of the Royal Society and his growing influence on the development of all Sciences through that office.
So I thought it would be interesting to go to Kew. Clearly correct (technically it hadn't been my idea originally but I'd been glad to go along). There is a lot about the history & heritage on the Kew InterWeb site (where they also suggest that Banks wasn't the first Director - reading between the lines he was either the second, or he was a Superintendent, in charge but without the title. So I suppose I got that wrong).
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
At the Royal Institution
Yesterday we (the boys and I) went to one of the Royal Institution Christmas Lectures. This year's lecture series is by Professor Sue Hartley. Called the 300 Million War, it is about the battle between the plants (who don't want to be eaten) and the animals (who want to eat them).
I first went to one of these talks back in the 70s - I must have been between 14 and 17; I can remember it was about heat and thermodynamics. (Actually, looking at the record it was probably George Porter on 'The Natural History of a Sunbeam' so that gives you an insight into just how poor my memory is). Then in 2003 I took the eldest to see Monica Grady (who I used to know at college), talking about geology and space (to put it very simplistically).
But actually the Christmas Lectures have been going for far longer than that. The first was in 1825; Michael Faraday gave many of the earlier ones himself. So allowing for the WWII years (when the lectures were cancelled), this year's lectures are something like the 180th in the series.
I was also interested in trying to meet up with an ex-colleague of mine who has recently become something very senior there. So we went early.
However, yesterday was also the day that the Guardian ran a full page article on the internal politics at the RI, its funding and the position of the Director, Susan Greenfield (actually Baroness Greenfield), who has been leading the organisation since 1998. So I guessed that he might be a just a little busy - and so it proved.
Well, we got there early and the events team did seem very busy, so we went to the cafe for drinks. I didn't recall this, nor the glass elevator and roof - it all seemed brand new; the Guardian article had highlighted the new building works, and from here they were both very obvious and very impressive - very well done indeed. While we were sitting there, gangs of teenagers were wandering around (in a nice way) waiting for the Lecture.
And then someone led a Shetland pony past us. We were surprised, to say the least, and several of the teenage girls nearby started cooing over it.
My ex-colleague did join us for 10 minutes, which was good of him, as he seemed to have had an incredibly busy day. He recommended the Faraday museum downstairs, and when we mentioned the pony he just replied laconically 'That means they were late.'
So anyway, he left us and we tried the Museum in the basement. It was small but excellent - very well done, and with absolutely unique content. Faraday's original lab, a display of the first Dewar flask, the first electrical transformer, Faraday's egg, and the TEN elements all discovered at the Royal Institution. Brilliant.
And then to the lecture, (in the original lecture theatre of course, also recently refurbished and looking very spick and span). This had the requisite number of explosions, displays, messy experiments, animals (as well as the pony there were aphids, a huge St Bernard dog and a two-toed sloth). and so forth. It was fun - and then we went home.
The RI is strongly, strongly recommended. I can't believe it is sensible of me only to go there on odd Christmasses. It is a one-of-a-kind organisation, and just wonderful.
You should go there too. Go at once.
I first went to one of these talks back in the 70s - I must have been between 14 and 17; I can remember it was about heat and thermodynamics. (Actually, looking at the record it was probably George Porter on 'The Natural History of a Sunbeam' so that gives you an insight into just how poor my memory is). Then in 2003 I took the eldest to see Monica Grady (who I used to know at college), talking about geology and space (to put it very simplistically).
But actually the Christmas Lectures have been going for far longer than that. The first was in 1825; Michael Faraday gave many of the earlier ones himself. So allowing for the WWII years (when the lectures were cancelled), this year's lectures are something like the 180th in the series.
I was also interested in trying to meet up with an ex-colleague of mine who has recently become something very senior there. So we went early.
However, yesterday was also the day that the Guardian ran a full page article on the internal politics at the RI, its funding and the position of the Director, Susan Greenfield (actually Baroness Greenfield), who has been leading the organisation since 1998. So I guessed that he might be a just a little busy - and so it proved.
Well, we got there early and the events team did seem very busy, so we went to the cafe for drinks. I didn't recall this, nor the glass elevator and roof - it all seemed brand new; the Guardian article had highlighted the new building works, and from here they were both very obvious and very impressive - very well done indeed. While we were sitting there, gangs of teenagers were wandering around (in a nice way) waiting for the Lecture.
And then someone led a Shetland pony past us. We were surprised, to say the least, and several of the teenage girls nearby started cooing over it.
My ex-colleague did join us for 10 minutes, which was good of him, as he seemed to have had an incredibly busy day. He recommended the Faraday museum downstairs, and when we mentioned the pony he just replied laconically 'That means they were late.'
So anyway, he left us and we tried the Museum in the basement. It was small but excellent - very well done, and with absolutely unique content. Faraday's original lab, a display of the first Dewar flask, the first electrical transformer, Faraday's egg, and the TEN elements all discovered at the Royal Institution. Brilliant.
And then to the lecture, (in the original lecture theatre of course, also recently refurbished and looking very spick and span). This had the requisite number of explosions, displays, messy experiments, animals (as well as the pony there were aphids, a huge St Bernard dog and a two-toed sloth). and so forth. It was fun - and then we went home.
The RI is strongly, strongly recommended. I can't believe it is sensible of me only to go there on odd Christmasses. It is a one-of-a-kind organisation, and just wonderful.
You should go there too. Go at once.
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