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39 of 41 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A must for the Maturin Fan Club, and everybody else, November 9, 2006
This charming little novel is several things at once, as all good books are. It is a double biography of Alexander von Humboldt and Carl Gauss, the two German science giants of the 19th century. They both measured the world, but so very differently. Humboldt by travelling and looking at things and writing down and measuring, literally, about nearly everything that can be measured. The result was a mountain of knowledge, several volumes of descriptions, and one of the foremost travel books of all times, his Travels in South America. By contrast, Gauss never left home, apart from some inner German border crossings (Germany was a patchwork of kingdoms and principalities at that time). He grew up in very simple social conditions and was recognized as a child genius by a great teacher. Gauss measured the world by observing the stars and by induction. Both contributed greatly to scientific progress. Kehlmann bases the Humboldt chapters largely on Humboldt's travels. That makes the book an adventure story in the tradition of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series. Humboldt's advantage over Maturin: he did not have a captain who kept disturbing his research by calling him back to sea. Another one: he was really "real", Maturin is "only" literature. One wonders why the two did not meet. This is surely the most appealing piece of fiction translated from German since Patrick Suesskind's Perfume in the 80s.
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20 of 21 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Quirky and Delightful, December 8, 2006
"Measuring the World" compares and contrasts the lives and accomplishments of adventuresome naturalist Alexander von Humboldt and primarily sedentary mathematician/astronomer Carl Friedrich Gauss. Novelist Daniel Kehlmann opens with an amusing meeting of the two fifty-something notables at the 1828 German Scientific Congress in Berlin. Then he proceeds to tells stories (factual in the main, but with a few, minor liberties) to catch the reader up chronologically, switching between scientists with each chapter. Kehlmann pokes sly fun at Gauss and Humboldt by rendering them as cartoonish grumbler and bumbling virgin respectively. German society of the period doesn't escape satirical treatment either. This waggish unreality tinges everything and everyone, yet the book doesn't tip into such buffoonery that readers can't be awed and enveloped. Take the Humboldt party's arduous adventures on the Orinoco River. Or Kehlmann's enthralling version of Humboldt and companion Bonpland's mountain trek up thousands of feet breathing thinnest air, crossing frail ice bridges and hallucinating entertainingly as they push on. Gauss, master of deduction (as opposed to Humboldt's inductive inclination), has to settle for a less exciting recollection of his life episodes since he lived more inside his head and in classrooms. The author doesn't aim at comprehensive biographical detail, but rather at signifying scenes. Catching up to 1828, Kehlmann returns to Gauss and Humboldt at the Congress, where they spend less time on science than on a muddled mission aiming to snatch Gauss' son, Eugen, from the clutches of the police. Thereafter, the two men part again. When Humboldt makes his subsequent trip to Russia, he is greeted as an icon, but the pomp and circumstance hinders his actually collecting samples or taking measurements as he did on his earlier explorations in South America. He finds his methods outdated anyway. Gauss, who didn't bother to publish many of his visionary ideas (such as radio) when they first formed in his mind (ahead of those who were actually credited later), also finds that he is a revered professor, but his defining and most august work was completed before he was twenty and he exists now as a reputation, a legend in his own time rather than an ongoing contributor. These two measurers of the world are let lie in a kind of pensive limbo at the end of the penultimate chapter. The final chapter follows Eugen Gauss who is traveling, due to his legal woes, to the New World where, not coincidentally, the innovative edge of science is also shifting. His voyage also symbolizes the scientific methods of Gauss and Humboldt merging. This English translation of Kehlmann's German novel is a unique read. It is ironic yet moving, oddly structured and perhaps too compressed yet fulfilling, and packed with German inside jokes that Americans might not pick up on yet still carrying plenty of humor that can be. It is also a book that opens many doors for thought about science, scientists, and the human condition. "Measuring the World" deserves to be read and pondered.
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12 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Re-imagining the World of Humboldt and Gauss, April 8, 2007
What a clever little story: paralleling the lives of two of the 18th-19th centuries' greatest men of science as they re-imagine the world. One trajectory follows Alexander von Humboldt as he explores the Americas with his instruments, measuring nature (magnetic currents, temperatures at different elevations, the distribution of flora and fauna) and describing the world in a way never before possible. The other trajectory plots the path of Carl Friedrich Gauss, the mathematical prodigy who rarely left his little German kingdom, yet expanded the inner universe of mathematics more than any thinker before him, making it possible to understand the outer world like never before. In Kehlmann's artful prose, the lives of Humboldt and Gauss are like parallel lines tracking next to each other--aware of each other's existence, but never touching--until Kehlmann brings them together (as Gauss always new, parallel lines do cross! space is curved!), their lives and their physical and mathematical measurements having measured a world bigger than both of them (as great as they were individually) could have imagined. And each of them realizes the usefulness of the other: measuring the world means investigating nature physically and mathematically. They needed each other all along. In this empathetic historical novel, Kehlmann emphasizes the anxiety and desperation of both his primary characters: Humboldt's desire to explore South America even if it means risking his life ("Humboldt slid down a scree slope. His hands and face were scraped bloody, and his coat torn, but the barometer didn't break.") and Gauss's tragic wish to be more, and know more, than his circumstances allow ("...the pitiful arbitrariness of existence, that you were born into a particular time and held prisoner there whether you wanted it or not," Gauss laments). As far as imagining an historical moment, one when two great thinkers thought of new ways to understand the world, Kehlmann's short book is an intelligent, eloquent recreation of the lives and endeavors of Humboldt and Gauss. This is a novel reminiscent of Alan Lightman's `Einstein's Dreams,' Russell McCormmach's `Night Thoughts of a Classical Physicist,' and even Vonnegut's `Slaughterhouse Five.'
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