100 Books Like On the Shoulders of Giants

I spend a lot of my time trying to clarify the bilge poured out by the merchants of fake science: the flat-earthers, creationists, and climate deniers mainly, but also medical quacks and other fruitloops who throw out alternative science, stuff which is like normal science, with one small exception. I was already fighting these fights when Wolpert came to Sydney, and I chaired a lecture he gave. He showed us where the problem lay in combatting idiocy: the idiots depend on naïve and naked intuition.

Invariably, these unhinged pseudo-realities rely on a simple misreading of scientific lore, and Lewis explained that this is because a great deal of science is counter-intuitive. We can’t see evolution happening, the world looks flat, the sun appears to go around us, and common sense says that kinetic energy must be proportional to velocity, not it's square. Enter the simpleton who slept through a key… show more.

I have to deal, from time to time, with nervous would-be experts who have an abject fear of hybrid species in the sanctuary where I am a volunteer. One of the main lessons you take away from this ecological history is that hybrids drive a great deal of evolution, and trying to wipe out the hybrids is, in fact, an attempt to interfere with nature.

Looking at Europe as an evolutionary melting pot, we see that time and again, species migrated into the continent and were transformed, whether the immigrants were humans, elephants, or plane trees. Like all of Flannery’s books, Europe is food for thought, something to savour.

I never knew that the telegraph started as a series of physical towers conveying coded messages by line of sight from one hill to another. It took years for the word telegraph to refer to the system we know so well, relying on electrical lines, the telegraph key, and Morse code.

I love how Standage finds the through line from this 19th-century communications network to the Internet we all take for granted today.

A whole book about a single stone? Whaaaaat?

Sure, The Planet in a Pebble is usually filed under ‘popular science’ but with a premise like that, we could also consider it a work of experimental literature.

Zalasiewicz picks up a pebble on a Welsh beach – humble, rounded grey slate intersected by a seam of white quartz – which starts him on a journey back over 4.5 billion years, looking at the minerals of early Earth.

We watch elements of our pebble progress through the rock cycle, eroding from igneous rock, slowly settling in a bacteria-rich bed of sediment within the early ocean before re-lithifying, metamorphosing under intense heat and pressure as mountains are formed by the movement of continental plates, to at last be exposed again and splintered from its mother rock by the force of wind and waves.

Primarily a historical work, this book explores how curiosity went from a kind of strange and disreputable act to something that became celebrated and tamed as part of the scientific process. With a focus on the early days of modern science, it is filled with a huge number of delightful examples of what passed for curiosity in previous centuries.

When I was asked to review this book, my first instinct was to decline. Newton (1642-1727) was a towering genius but a dull fellow, with no interest in other human beings. He often published anonymously for fear that, he explained: "Public esteem, were I able to acquire and maintain it … would perhaps increase my acquaintance, the thing which I chiefly study to decline." How can a biographer make such a person interesting?

The author dodges very nimbly around this problem, giving us an account, not so much of the man as of his reputation and influence. Perhaps this means that her book is not a true biography, but it is done with such skill and wit, I include it anyway.

Using the modern view of science, many economic historians have sought to diminish the effects of science on the technologies in the 18th and 19th centuries. This wonderful book by a sociologist documents how science, as it was then practiced, pervaded the whole structure of British society, from preachers teaching that Newton had revealed the architecture that God had imposed during creation, to a journal teaching Newtonian science to women. As Jacob puts it: “The role of science…was not that of general laws leading to the development of specific applications. Instead it…[provided] the theoretical mechanics and the practical mathematics that facilitated technological change. Brought together by a shared technical vocabulary of Newtonian origin, engineers and entrepreneurs…negotiated…the mechanization of workshops or the improvement of canals, mines, and harbours.

This is a delightful read about a subject I’ve been attracted to for many years: gravity. The odd fact is, while we can use Newton’s laws to determine all sorts of things that gravity can do—with sufficient precision even to guide spaceships to orbits around other planets—we still don’t really know what gravity is.

The book is an extended essay about the history of our ideas about gravity’s myths, maths, and mysteries. I especially enjoyed how Panek raises and lightly touches upon so many aspects of the question, juggling it with finesse from every angle. He covers the ground long before, up to, and past Newton’s breakthrough. I particularly liked his discussion of the problem of comets in Newton’s theory. Panek concludes with recent gravity wave detections.

Twenty years ago, while driving to my favorite lunch-hour swimming place in Hawaii, I heard the renowned physicist Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar being interviewed on the radio about the release of his new book on Newton’s Principia.

Chandrasekhar’s goal was to present Newton’s thought and ‘mathematical craftsmanship’ in a way accessible to the modern reader. Long an admirer of Chandra and Newton, I was sold. This labor of love is the book to read if you want to know all about how Newton did it.

But in fairness, it is not really for ‘the common reader:’ its math level varies from simple to challenging. Yet there is so much there, even if you don’t get it all. The illustrations are big and clear; his technical and historical asides are fascinating and stimulating.

Years ago, I decided to plunge headfirst into Newton’s great and famously daunting work, the Principia, to see what I could grasp. My education is in mathematics and physics, and I thought I’d give it a go. With Dana Densmore’s book by my side, I discovered, to my surprise, that the wonder of Newton’s achievements can be known to anyone, even to those without any particular mathematical training.

If you too are curious—and you must be—please get Dana Densmore’s remarkable book! She’s a mathematician who writes beautifully—she’ll walk you through every stage of the master’s thought. It’s a beautiful book to look at and have: Donahue’s meticulous graphics and translations in colored font are fun to pore over, alongside Dana’s intelligent commentary.