Amazon.com Review
As a schoolbook figure, Isaac Newton is most often pictured sitting under an apple tree, about to discover the secrets of gravity. In this short biography, James Gleick reveals the life of a man whose contributions to science and math included far more than the laws of motion for which he is generally famous. Gleick's always-accessible style is hampered somewhat by the need to describe Newton's esoteric thinking processes. After all, the man invented calculus. But readers who stick with the book will discover the amazing story of a scientist obsessively determined to find out how things worked. Working alone, thinking alone, and experimenting alone, Newton often resorted to strange methods, as when he risked his sight to find out how the eye processed images: .... Newton, experimental philosopher, slid a bodkin into his eye socket between eyeball and bone. He pressed with the tip until he saw 'severall white darke & coloured circles'.... Almost as recklessly, he stared with one eye at the sun, reflected in a looking glass, for as long as he could bear.
From poor beginnings, Newton rose to prominence and wealth, and Gleick uses contemporary accounts and notebooks to track the genius's arc, much as Newton tracked the paths of comets. Without a single padded sentence or useless fact, Gleick portrays a complicated man whose inspirations required no falling apples. --Therese Littleton
From Publishers Weekly
Gleick's most renowned writing falls into one of two categories: vivid character studies or broad syntheses of scientific trends. Here, he fuses the two genres with a biography of the man who was emblematic of a new scientific paradigm, but this short study falls a bit short on both counts. The author aims to "ground this book as wholly as possible in its time; in the texts," and his narrative relies heavily on direct quotations from Newton's papers, extensively documented with more than 60 pages of notes. While his attention to historical detail is impressive, Gleick's narrative aims somewhere between academic and popular history, and his take on Newton feels a bit at arms-length, only matching the vibrancy of his Feynman biography at moments (particularly when describing Newton's disputes with such competitors as Robert Hooke or Leibniz). As might be expected, Gleick's descriptions of Newton's scientific breakthroughs are clear and engaging, and his book is strongest when discussing the shift to a mathematical view of the world that Newton championed. In the end, this is a perfectly serviceable overview of Newton's life and work, and will bring this chapter in the history of science to a broader audience, but it lacks the depth one hopes for from a writer of Gleick's abilities.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Popular sci-tech author Gleick takes as his subject one of the most written-about figures in the history of science--so what's the new angle here? A crystalline expositor of what Newton accomplished, Gleick throttles back the personal aspects of Newton's life to show the curves of his thought processes. Although Newton's reputation dimmed in the early twentieth century when his papers revealed devotion to alchemy and biblical hermeneutics--what a waste of genius, ran the theme of subsequent biographies--Gleick incorporates them with the physics and mathematics, as aspects of Newton's singular obsession with truth . . and secrecy. He suppressed for decades his invention of calculus; laws of motion; and optics; and harbored vitriolic hatred for those who disputed him, such as calculus co-inventor Gottfried Leibniz. Newton's choleric moods and blazing ideation, Gleick ventures to explain, can be understood in the context of Restoration England's intellectual climate, still heavily mystical and only incipiently rational. Weaving this background into his fine presentation of Newton's interests, Gleick renders a wonderful impression of the icon's mind. Gilbert Taylor
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Review
"Can a talented but non-specialist science writer have any hope of contributing a serious, insightful biography of such a monumental man? In this case Gleick wins the gamble. His Isaac Newton is now the biography of choice for the interested layman…. The extraordinary breadth of Newton's interests is brilliantly delineated by Gleick. Newton the man emerges from the shadows."
--Owen Gingerich, The New York Times Book Review
"Accurate and readable… Gleick has gone back to [Newton's] original notebooks and brought them to life. For casual reader with a serious interest in Newton's life and work, I recommend Gleick's biography as an excellent place to start."
--Freeman Dyson, The New York Review of Books
"A slender, thoroughly researched account of Newton's life, written in a spare sometimes lyrical prose style… What's most fascinating about [Newton], and what makes Gleick's biography so intriguing, is that Newton just sort of came up with things by himself, as if out of the blue…And incredibly, he got the right answers."
--Farhad Manjoo, Salon.com
"What a great subject for James Gleick! Isaac Newton was a geniuses’ genius. His secret jottings changed the way we think about the universe, from the infinite to the infinitesimal. He was larger than life in his search for order, and he had heroic adventures in the realms of mystery and chaos. His behavior on this earth was as eccentric as his voyages beyond it were spectacular. Gleick has written the perfect short life."-- Jonathan Weiner, author of The Beak of a Finch
“The book has the magic of a wonderful laboratory experiment. James Gleick uses some complex components to make a brilliantly orchestrated and compelling narrative.His Isaac Newton is a masterpiece of clarity – so difficult to write, so easy to read.”
--Michael Holroyd, author of Works on Paper
"In addition to reflecting on Newton's genius, Gleick provides a fresh and brilliant portrait of his personality and life, the people who mattered to him, the influences which played on him, and the contexts of his achievements, giving us a vivid picture of this superhuman yet all-too-mortal man."
--Oliver Sacks, author of Uncle Tungsten
“[ISAAC NEWTON] is beautifully paced and very stylishly written: compact, atmospheric, elegant. It offers a brilliant and engaging study in the paradoxes of the scientific imagination.It’s more revealing than a falling apple!”
-- Richard Holmes, author of Coleridge
“After reading Jim Gleick’s beautifully written and intimate portrait of Newton, I felt as if I’d spent an evening by the fire with that complex and troubled genius.”
--Alan Lightman, author of Einstein's Dreams, The Diagnosis andReunion
"Gleick's descriptions of Newton's scientific breakthroughs are clear and engaging… [ISAAC NEWTON] will bring this chapter in the history of science to a broader audience."
--Publishers Weekly
"[An] engaging, concise biography of a monumental visionary and eccentric whose life was as remarkable as the universe he struggled to understand."
--Kirkus Reviews
From the Inside Flap
James Gleick has long been fascinated by the making of sciencehow ideas order visible appearances, how equations can give meaning to molecular and stellar phenomena, how theories can transform what we see. In Chaos, he chronicled the emergence of a new way of looking at dynamic systems; in Genius, he portrayed the wondrous dimensions of Richard Feynmans mind. Now, in Isaac Newton, he gives us the story of the scientist who, above all others, embodied humanitys quest to unveil the hidden forces that constitute the physical world.
In this original, sweeping, and intimate biography, Gleick moves between a comprehensive historical portrait and a dramatic focus on Newtons significant letters and unpublished notebooks to illuminate the real importance of his work in physics, in optics, and in calculus. He makes us see the old intuitive, alchemical universe out of which Newtons mathematics first arose and shows us how Newtons ideas have altered all forms of understanding from history to philosophy. And he gives us a moving account of the conflicting impulses that pulled at this mans heart: his quiet longings, his rage, his secrecy, the extraordinary subtleties of a personality that were mirrored in the invisible forces he first identified as the building blocks of science. More than biography, more than history, more than science, Isaac Newton tells us how, through the mind of one man, we have come to know our place in the cosmos.
From the Back Cover
"Can a talented but non-specialist science writer have any hope of contributing a serious, insightful biography of such a monumental man? In this case Gleick wins the gamble. His Isaac Newton is now the biography of choice for the interested layman…. The extraordinary breadth of Newton's interests is brilliantly delineated by Gleick. Newton the man emerges from the shadows."
--Owen Gingerich, The New York Times Book Review
"Accurate and readable… Gleick has gone back to [Newton's] original notebooks and brought them to life. For casual reader with a serious interest in Newton's life and work, I recommend Gleick's biography as an excellent place to start."
--Freeman Dyson, The New York Review of Books
"A slender, thoroughly researched account of Newton's life, written in a spare sometimes lyrical prose style… What's most fascinating about [Newton], and what makes Gleick's biography so intriguing, is that Newton just sort of came up with things by himself, as if out of the blue…And incredibly, he got the right answers."
--Farhad Manjoo, Salon.com
"What a great subject for James Gleick! Isaac Newton was a geniuses’ genius. His secret jottings changed the way we think about the universe, from the infinite to the infinitesimal. He was larger than life in his search for order, and he had heroic adventures in the realms of mystery and chaos. His behavior on this earth was as eccentric as his voyages beyond it were spectacular. Gleick has written the perfect short life."-- Jonathan Weiner, author of The Beak of a Finch
“The book has the magic of a wonderful laboratory experiment. James Gleick uses some complex components to make a brilliantly orchestrated and compelling narrative.His Isaac Newton is a masterpiece of clarity – so difficult to write, so easy to read.”
--Michael Holroyd, author of Works on Paper
"In addition to reflecting on Newton's genius, Gleick provides a fresh and brilliant portrait of his personality and life, the people who mattered to him, the influences which played on him, and the contexts of his achievements, giving us a vivid picture of this superhuman yet all-too-mortal man."
--Oliver Sacks, author of Uncle Tungsten
“[ISAAC NEWTON] is beautifully paced and very stylishly written: compact, atmospheric, elegant. It offers a brilliant and engaging study in the paradoxes of the scientific imagination.It’s more revealing than a falling apple!”
-- Richard Holmes, author of Coleridge
“After reading Jim Gleick’s beautifully written and intimate portrait of Newton, I felt as if I’d spent an evening by the fire with that complex and troubled genius.”
--Alan Lightman, author of Einstein's Dreams, The Diagnosis andReunion
"Gleick's descriptions of Newton's scientific breakthroughs are clear and engaging… [ISAAC NEWTON] will bring this chapter in the history of science to a broader audience."
--Publishers Weekly
"[An] engaging, concise biography of a monumental visionary and eccentric whose life was as remarkable as the universe he struggled to understand."
--Kirkus Reviews
About the Author
James Gleick is an author, reporter, and essayist. His writing on science and technology–including Chaos, Genius, Faster, and What Just Happened–has been translated into thirty languages. He lives in New York.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
What Imployment Is He Fit For?
Medieval, in some disrepair, the Woolsthorpe farmhouse nestled into a hill near the River Witham. With its short front door and shuttered windows, its working kitchen, and its bare floors of ash and linden laid on reeds, it had belonged to Newton's forebears for just twenty years. In back stood apple trees. Sheep grazed for acres around.
Isaac was born in a small room at the top of the stairs. By the terms of feudal law this house was a manor and the fatherless boy was its lord, with seigniorial authority over a handful of tenant farmers in nearby cottages. He could not trace his ancestry back past his grandfather, Robert, who lay buried in the churchyard nearly a mile to the east. Still, the boy expected to live managing the farm in the place of the father he had never known. His mother, Hannah Ayscough, had come from gentlefolk. Her brother, the Reverend William Ayscough, studied at Cambridge University on his way to joining the Anglican clergy; now he occupied a village rectory two miles away. When Isaac was three years old and his widowed mother near thirty, she accepted a marriage offer from another nearby rector, Barnabas Smith, a wealthy man twice her age. Smith wanted a wife, not a stepson; under the negotiated terms of their marriage Hannah abandoned Isaac in the Woolsthorpe house, leaving him to his grandmother's care.
War flared in the countryside all through his youth. The decade-long Great Rebellion began in the year of his birth: Parliamentarians fighting Royalists, Puritans recoiling from the idolatry they saw in the Church of England. Motley, mercenary armies skirmished throughout the Midlands. Pikemen and musketeers sometimes passed through the fields near Woolsthorpe. Bands of men plundered farms for supplies. England was at war with itself and also, increasingly, aware of itself-its nationhood, its specialness. Divided as it was, convulsed over ecclesiastical forms and beliefs, the nation carried out a true revolution. The triumphant Puritans rejected absolutism and denied the divine right of the monarchy. In 1649, soon after Isaac turned six, Charles Stuart, the king, was beheaded at the wall of his palace.
This rustic country covered a thousandth of the world's landmass, cut off from the main continent since the warming of the planet and the melting of polar ice 13,000 years before. Plundering, waterborne tribes had settled on its coasts in waves and diffused into its downs and valleys, where they aggregated in villages. What they knew or believed about nature depended in part on the uses of technology. They had learned to employ the power of water and wind to crush, grind, and polish. The furnace, the forge, and the mill had taken their place in an economy that thereby grew more specialized and hierarchical. People in England, as in many human communities, made metal-kettles of copper and brass, rods and nails of iron. They made glass. These crafts and materials were prerequisites now to a great leap in knowledge. Other prerequisites were lenses, paper and ink, mechanical clocks, numeric systems capable of denoting indefinitely small fractions, and postal services spanning hundreds of miles.
By the time of Newton's birth, one great city had formed, with about 400,000 people; no other town was even a tenth as large. England was still a country of villages and farms, its seasons ordered by the Christian calendar and the rhythms of agriculture: lambing and calving, haymaking and harvest. Years of harvest failure had brought widespread starvation. Roving laborers and vagrants made up much of the population. But a class of artisans and merchants was coming into its own: traders, shopkeepers, apothecaries, glaziers, carpenters, and surveyors, all developing a practical, mechanical view of knowledge. They used numbers and made tools. The nucleus of a manufacturing economy was taking shape.
When Isaac was old enough, he walked to the village dame school, where he learned to read and studied the Bible and chanted arithmetic tables. He was small for his age, lonely and abandoned. Sometimes he wished his stepfather dead, and his mother, too: in a rage he threatened to burn their house down over them. Sometimes he wished himself dead and knew the wish for a sin. On bright days sunlight crept along the wall. Darkness as well as light seemed to fall from the window- or was it from the eye? No one knew. The sun projected slant edges, a dynamic echo of the window frame in light and shadow, sometimes sharp and sometimes blurred, expressing a three-dimensional geometry of intersecting planes. The particulars were hard to visualize, though the sun was the most regular of heavenly objects, the one whose cycles already defined the measures of time. Isaac scratched crude geometric figures, circles with arcs inscribed, and hammered wooden pegs into the walls and the ground to measure time exactly, to the nearest quarter-hour. He cut sun-dials into stone and charted the shadows cast by their gnomons. This meant seeing time as akin to space, duration as length, the length of an arc. He measured small distances with strings and made a translation between inches and minutes of an hour. He had to revise this translation methodically as the seasons changed. Across the day the sun rose and fell; across the year its position in the sky shifted slightly against the fixed stars and traced a slowly twisting figure eight, a figure invisible except to the mind's eye. Isaac grew conscious of this pattern long before he understood it as the product of two oddities, the earth's elliptical orbit and a tilt in its axis.
At Woolsthorpe anyone who cared to know the hour consulted Isaac's dials. "O God! Methinks it were a happy life," said Shakespeare's Henry VI, "to carve out dials quaintly, point by point, thereby to see the minutes how they run." Sun-dials-shadow-clocks-still told most people the time, though at some churches the hour could be read from mechanical clocks. At night the stars turned in the blue vault of the sky; the moon waxed and waned and traced its own path, much like the sun's, yet not exactly-these great globes, ruling the seasons, lighting the day and night, connected as if by invisible cords. Sun-dials embodied practical knowledge that had been refined over millennia. With cruder sun-dials, the hours were unequal and varied with the seasons. Better versions achieved precision and encouraged an altered sense of time itself: not just as a recurring cycle, or a mystical quality influencing events, but as duration, measurable, a dimension. Still, no one could perfect or even understand sun-dials until all the shifting pieces of a puzzle had been assembled: the shadows, the rhythms, the orbits of planets, the special geometry of the ellipse, the attraction of matter by matter. It was all one problem.
When Isaac was ten, in 1653, Barnabas Smith died, and Hannah returned to Woolsthorpe, bringing three new children with her. She sent Isaac off to school, eight miles up the Great North Road, to Grantham, a market town of a few hundred families-now a garrison town, too. Grantham had two inns, a church, a guild hall, an apothecary, and two mills for grinding corn and malt. Eight miles was too far to walk each day; Isaac boarded with the apothecary, William Clarke, on High Street. The boy slept in the garret and left signs of his presence, carving his name into the boards and drawing in charcoal on the walls: birds and beasts, men and ships, and pure abstract circles and triangles.
At the Kings School, one room, with strict Puritan discipline, Henry Stokes, schoolmaster, taught eighty boys Latin, theology, and some Greek and Hebrew. In most English schools that would have been all, but Stokes added some practical arithmetic for his prospective farmers: mostly about measurement of areas and shapes, algorithms for surveying, marking fields by the chain, calculating acres (though the acre still varied from one county to the next, or according to the land's richness). He offered a bit more than a farmer would need: how to inscribe regular polygons in a circle and compute the length of each side, as Archimedes had done to estimate pi. Isaac scratched Archimedes' diagrams in the wall. He entered the lowest form at the age of twelve, lonely, anxious, and competitive. He fought with other boys in the churchyard; sometimes noses were bloodied. He filled a Latin exercise book with unselfconscious phrases, some copied, others invented, a grim stream of thought: A little fellow; My poore help; Hee is paile; There is no room for me to sit; In the top of the house-In the bottom of hell; What imployment is he fit for? What is hee good for? He despaired. I will make an end. I cannot but weepe. I know not what to doe.
Barely sixty lifetimes had passed since people began to record knowledge as symbols on stone or parchment. England's first paper mill opened at the end of the sixteenth century, on the Deptford River. Paper was prized, and the written word played a small part in daily life. Most of what people thought remained unrecorded; most of what they recorded was hidden or lost. Yet to some it seemed a time of information surfeit. "I hear new news every day," wrote the vicar Robert Burton, attuned as he was-virtually living in the Bodleian Library at Oxford-to the transmission and storage of data:
those ordinary rumours of war, plagues, fires, inundations, thefts, murders, massacres, meteors, comets, spectrums, prodigies, apparitions, . . . and such like, which these tempestuous times afford. . . . New books every day, pamphlets, currantoes, stories, whole catalogues of volumes of all sorts, new paradoxes, opinions, schisms, heresies, controversies in philosophy, religion &c."
Burton was attempting to assemble all previous knowledge into a single rambling, discursive, encyclopedic book of his own. He made no apology for his resolute plagiarism; or, rather, he apologized this way: "A dwarf standing on the shoulders of a Giant may see farther than a Giant himself." He tried to make sense of...
