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Degrees Kelvin: A Tale of Genius, Invention, and Tragedy

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The author has done a fine job in bringing this man, William Thomson (Lord Kelvin) to life. He was one of the primary movers of the scientific world of the Victorian era, and much can be learned of the development of the physical sciences through a study of his methods, personal interactions, and achievements.

Thomson was one of the dozen or so illustrious men, almost entirely British, Scottish, German and French, who developed the central ideas of thermodynamics and electromagnetism in the middle of the 19th century. His particular contribution, among many, was to popularize and further develop the ideas of the Frenchman, Carnot, of the famous reversible heat engine. This was to lead ultimately to the discovery of the absolute temperature scale, now named for him, and to entropy. In electromagnetism, he stood between the non-mathematical insights of Faraday, and the highly mathematical formulation of Maxwell and Heaviside, which has changed little in its fundamental approach, and is still taught to sophomores today. In fact, he and a friend wrote the first recognizable classical physics textbook for undergraduates. And he played a big role as a consultant/inventor for the first transatlantic telegraph cable, a story well told here and in Gordon's recent "Thread Across the Ocean."

Thomson was something of a prodigy, gathering honors and publications at a very young age, but later in life his productivity fell off into an idosyncratic crankiness. His required approach to problems was to devise mechanical analogs for phenomena, which turned out to be too limited to arrive at a full field theory of electromagnetism and atomism, neither of which he ever accepted fully. He was a true believer in the ether, but was never able to use it to produce a fruitful alternative to Maxwell's E&M or kinetic theory.

It was interesting for me to note the obvious parallels between his life-arc and that of Einstein. Einstein was also unable to fully participate in the later scientific developments in quantum mechanics because of a prejudice or block similar to Thomson's requirement for a mechanical model. And then Kelvin spent an inordinate amount of energy in developing an improved ship's compass (a profitable success), while Einstein tried mightily (but unsuccessfully) to improve the refrigerator. Einstein killed Kelvin's ether by ignoring it, but was in turn killed by his insistence that "God doesn't play with dice."

Lindley has written a well-researched but entertaining and well written book. The illustrations are a good addition, not seen before by me. A scientist himself, he is well equipped to understand the science of the times, and is unerring and enthusiastic for his subject. Well done!

British physicist Sir William Thomson, better known to history as Lord Kelvin, was among the most brilliant scientists of the 19th century. Already a published author upon his arrival at Cambridge as an undergraduate (in 1841), Thomson went on to a distinguished career during which he made advances in the studies of electricity and magnetism, heat and light, as well as establishing the existence of an absolute zero--the work with which he is probably most readily identified. But Thomson was, above all else, a practical thinker who most enjoyed applying scientific principles to the solution of real-life problems. Thus, while involved in the various attempts that were made to lay the first transatlantic telegraph cable, Thomson invented the mirror galvanometer, a more sensitive instrument for receiving electronic pulses than had previously been available. Likewise, Thomson's interest in sailing led to his invention of sounding machines for aid in navigation and the design of a more reliable naval compass.

Lindley's account of Thomson's life and career alternates in the telling between discussions of science and of personality. The former will be appreciated by readers with some scientific background, but Lindley does not dumb down his technical discussions sufficiently for the aid of the general reader. Far more accessible is Lindley's discussion of Kelvin's life outside of the laboratory, as for example his account of the subtle battle between the young William and his somewhat domineering father James--over the former's expenses, attentiveness to school work, social contacts, moral probity, exercise, conduct of professional relationships, and so on. James Thomson was involved in the particulars of William's life and early career to a degree that must have been maddening to the young man. (Much of their struggle revolved around a position that opened at Glasgow University, where James Thomson was a professor of mathematics. James wanted desperately for his son to work at the University. William got the position, at the age of 22, and stayed there for more than fifty years.) There are, too, rewarding accounts of the various luminaries with whom Thomson came into contact, such as the autodidact Michael Faraday (whose accomplishments and personality have clearly impressed the author).

Lindley frames his biography with a discussion of the unfortunate fact of Kelvin's career that he became in his later life something of a dinosaur, clinging stubbornly to antiquated ideas--such as an upper age for the earth of a mere 100 million years--while science advanced around him. Celebrated in his life, Kelvin has suffered a posthumous diminution of reputation. Such is the "tragedy" of Lindley's subtitle ("A Tale of Genius, Invention, and Tragedy"), but it is overstated. Kelvin's life was filled with frenetic, joyous work on projects that fascinated him, and he was appreciated during his lifetime for his contributions. If in some areas Kelvin's conclusions were wrongheaded, he was yet responsible for substantial scientific advances. He seems to have been a wholly fascinating figure, and Lindley does a service in making his story available to readers.

Reviewed by Debra Hamel, author of Trying Neaira: The True Story of a Courtesan's Scandalous Life in Ancient Greece

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When I was in high school, the only thing I knew about a "Kelvin" was that it was associated with a temperature scale that was expressed in Kelvin units (symbol: K). That is, the lowest temperature possible known as "absolute zero" is 0 degrees K (minus 273.15 degrees Celsius). And that's it! I never realized that this was a way to honor a scientific genius named Lord Kelvin, originally William Thomson (1824 to 1907).

This detailed, well researched, and easy-to-read book, by Dr. David Lindley, traces the life of this now little-known scientific genius and inventor. But "it was not for science alone that Kelvin became famous but because of the way he brought science into ordinary life." And he brought science into ordinary life by developing numerous useful inventions (which made him a wealthy man). And his legacy continues to this day. For example, "the modern inkjet printer...uses essentially [a] trick that Thomson dreamed up in the 1860s!" Or consider that Lord Kelvin's "ideas and principles [are] still taught today at the core of any course on basic physics."

In fact, Lord Kelvin was so well known in his day that when he died he was buried alongside Isaac Newton. Quite an honor!

Lord Kelvin's life was a fascinating one. In his story, you will encounter other great legends such as Newton, Einstein, Alexander Graham Bell, Cavendish, Charles Coulomb, Pierre Curie, Charles Darwin, and James Clerk Maxwell. He had a broad range of scientific interests. What really intrigued me and what I found totally unexpected were his thoughts on the extraterrestrial origins of life on Earth.

In the center of this book are nine black and white illustrations that I have not seen before. They add another dimension to the book.

Finally, the only minor problem I had with this book was with the idea of Kelvin's life being somehow a "tragedy" (as stated in the subtitle). Actually, he had no more tragedies than other people. The fact that he did not eagerly accept the theories of other scientists seems to me that he was cautious which is the mark of a good scientist. The only real tragedy that I can see from reading this book is that history seems to have forgotten him.

In conclusion, this is a fascinating story of a scientific genius and inventor. This book is truly "destined to become the definitive biography of one of the most important figures in modern science!!"

(first published 2004; acknowledgements; introduction; 6 chapters; epilogue; main narrative of 315 pages; 9 black and white illustrations; bibliography; notes; index)

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David Lindley's biography of Lord Kelvin is one of the most enjoyable books that I have ever read. The author provides a fair assessment of the man within his historical and scientific milieu and one is left with a sense of having obtained a deeper understanding of 19th century scientific thinking. The complexities of the foundation of thermodynamics are dealt with capably as is the scientific outlook of Kelvin as an advocate of a purely mechanical universe, in particular against the changing views towards the end of the 19th century. Overall a balanced approach between science and personal detail for a book of this type.

I was surprised to learn of his many commercial inventions where he applied the physics he had discovered. His early work in product testing of the cable for the transatlantic telegraph cable was years ahead of its time. I found this book an easy read, Kelvin (Thomson) was a real down to earth scientist and the author has captured his essence.

As an engineer myself, I've developed something of a hobby of learning about the people behind the names given to all these equations I use on a daily basis. Kelvin is one of said names, though throughout most of his life he went by the name William Thomson. In "Degrees Kelvin," the author, David Lindley, tells the story of this 19th-century British scientist from his undergrad days at Cambridge through his death at the end of 1907. I think most scientists and engineers would enjoy reading this book and learning about one of the men responsible for the all-important laws of thermodynamics. I think Lindley did a remarkable job of presenting the man; if it were possible I would surely like to meet the Lord Kelvin. He seems like a friendly and amazingly intelligent man that I'm sure I could talk with for hours.

In addition to the work on thermo, Thomson was instrumental in getting the transatlantic telegraph cable working, invented the forerunner to inkjet printers, a compass, and several other pieces of science that don't necessarily bear the name Kelvin. But this biography isn't just a story of the science; Lindley tells a captivating story and brings the man to life based on Thomson's correspondence, various diaries, and newspapers. We learn about his family and his friendships with G.G. Stokes, P.G. Tait, and H.L.F. von Helmholtz, among others. Something that came as a surpise to me was the rivalries (read: borderline soap-opera drama) concerning just who was responsible for creating the laws of thermodynamics, the fighting over how to lay the cable, and Kelvin's stubbornness in his later years concerning Maxwell's theory of electromagnetism and refusual to believe in the modern developments of science such as radiation. Nevertheless, Thomson was always interested in using his math and science skills to solve practical problems, which is something that strikes close to home for me as an engineer. Thanks to this book, I now have a much deeper respect for, and understanding of, William Thomson, 1st Baron Kelvin of Largs.

This is an absolutely fascinating romp through nineteenth century physics which has as its vehicle the life of William Thomson - perhaps better known as Lord Kelvin. Thomson's scientific life and times are very well portrayed - he was interested in almost anything that constituted natural philosophy (today known as physics). But in addition to his pursuits in pure science, Thomson was also intensely interested in using science to develop technology for the betterment of humanity. Consequently, some of his contemporaries have criticized him for spending too much time tinkering and not enough time applying his tremendous intellect to more abstract scientific problems. Thomson's fields of activity were many: thermodynamics, electromagnetism, age of the earth and participating in the laying of the transatlantic cable being only a few. The writing style is clear, authoritative, friendly, accessible and quite captivating. The science is very well explained, despite the fact that illustrative diagrams have not been included.

After reading the book, I was left rather puzzled by the word "tragedy" in its subtitle. Although the elderly William Thomson was often rather reluctant in embracing new development in physics, mainly near the turn of the twentieth century, he did lead a rich productive life and was lauded and respected by his scientific contemporaries and the public alike. Somehow, the word "tragedy" does not seem appropriate.

Although anyone can enjoy this book and learn much from it, because of its scientific content, science buffs are likely to relish it the most.

Degrees Kelvin, written by David Lindley, is a book about a very influential figure in the world of physics who is sometimes forgotten.

The book chronicles the life of William Thomson (eventually Lord Kelvin) from the time that he was an inquisitive student in his father's mathematics lectures at Glasgow University in England, through the great and eventually turbulent events in Thomson's scientific career. Very early on in his life Thomson became the Professor of Natural Philosophy at Glasgow University, a position that he was to hold for much of his lifetime. Most notable, in his career that spanned many different fields, was his work with electricity for the telegraph industry. His work in this field allowed for the construction of the first transatlantic telegraph and improved upon the design of wires to transmit electricity over long distances. One of Thomson's lesser known, but still important accomplishments was the creation of the first modern physics textbook. There are many other interesting things that were important in Thomson's life and Lindley goes into great detail.

One of the most endearing aspects of this book is the way that it can embrace science yet still read like a novel. One of the book's flaws is that at times it gives to much background information about other 19th century scientists that eventually slow down the reading and detracts from the author's main message. In writing this biography Lindley was trying to create something to represent a very important scientist whose name is lost in history. This biography is extremely interesting to read because Thomson has helped to shape many scientific principles of the modern age. This book would be recommendable to anyone who enjoys science, in particular physics, and who would like to read about a man who helped physics come to be. Overall, it is decently presented and anyone who likes science would probably enjoy most of the book.

To cable historians, William Thomson, later knighted and eventually elevated to the peerage as Lord Kelvin, is a key figure in the field. Thomson developed the first theories of electrical propagation on long undersea cables, devised the mirror galvanometer which enabled reliable communication on the first cables, followed that with the siphon recorder and many other inventions. He sailed on a number of cable expeditions, and provided consulting services to cable companies for many years, and died a wealthy man as a result.

But how did a Cambridge-educated mathematician and theoretical physicist become an engineer and industrialist? David Lindley's new biography of Kelvin, the first in many years, traces the prodigy's early education in science (encouraged by his father, a professor of mathematics at Glasgow University), through his early career as an academic, to his work on cable theory and engineering, and finally his diverse activities in later life as an internationally famous industrialist, scientist and engineer.

Thomson's introduction to the cable industry is a Connections story: In 1854, Astronomer Royal George Airy, hoping to use the new cross-Channel cables to synchronize astronomical observations between London and Paris, but discouraged by the fuzzy signals through the cables, asked telegraph engineer Latimer Clark to investigate the problem. Clark invited Michael Faraday to visit the cable works and observe experiments in transmitting signals through underwater cables. Faraday determined qualitatively that the cable was acting like a Leyden jar, storing electrical charge because of the proximity of the water to the insulated conductor and published a paper on the subject, but did not develope a rigorous theory. Faraday's results were briefly mentioned to Thomson at a scientific meeting that same year, but Thomson did not have time to consider them until some time later, when, characteristically for him, he dashed off in a couple of days the complete theory of the transmission of a pulse of electricity through an insulated underwater cable. This Thompson did while staying at his estate on the coast of Scotland, without access to publications or experimental apparatus.

By 1854, the prospect of a cable across the Atlantic was much in discussion. Various schemes were proposed, and Cyrus Field began rasing capital in Britain and America for a company to lay the cable. By December of that year, Thomson and his associates had applied for a patent on a remedy for cable problems, and Thomson published a paper on the subject in 1855. Throughout the preparation for the first Atlantic Cable expedition, Thomson developed and refined his theories (although working independently of the companies making the cable), and by 1857 he was actively involved in engineering research on the properties of copper. In 1858 he took out his second patent, for the mirror galvanometer, and his success in cable engineering was assured. He sailed on a number of cable-laying expeditions, licensed his patents to the cable companies, and sold them equipment of his own manufacture.

This was by no means the end of Thomson's contributions to pure science, but as Lindley makes clear, the financial and social rewards of his successful ventures in the burgeoning cable industry drew Thomson more into engineering and manufacturing activities, and by the time of his death in 1907 (having been created Baron Kelvin of Largs in 1892) he was regarded as a holdover from an earlier age of science, unable to accept Darwin's theory of evolution, with reservations about the existence of atoms, and at odds with other scientists on the age of the earth.

Although this review has focused mainly on Kelvin's work on cable engineering, Lindley's book reconciles all the facets of Kelvin's personal and professional life, from brilliant forward-thinker to engineer to opinionated old man, and gives an insightful account of the career of this 19th century scientific hero.

Degrees Kelvin is a well written biography on one of the men that helped lay the foundations of modern science. David Lindley does an excellent job at writing a detailed, but never tedious account of how William Thompson became Lord Kelvin.

Although it's impossible to tell Kelvin's story without discussing some aspects of his science, this is by no means a dull story. I felt the author took great care at presenting the man - both flawed and genius - behind the science.

If you enjoy science and would like to know some of the people that gave their name to some of the great advances in science, this book will not disappoint.