The Thumbnail Book Reviews
by John Q McDonald --- 30 September 2020
by Emily Levesque
Astronomy is the science of exploring our universe so that we better understand where our planet comes from and where it's going. Astronomers are drawn to beauty and complexity of the cosmos, from the swirling images that come from telescopes on the ground and in space, to the astonishingly subtle beauty of the physics and math that both explain what we see and predict what we might see. There are two main popular ideas of what astronomers are like. One is (usually a man) wearing threadbare corduroy jackets in a room stacked with books, contemplating the nature of black holes. The other is of a white coated (again, usually a man) scientist peering through the eyepiece of an enormous barrel-shaped telscope sticking out of a dome on a dark mountaintop. Astronmers are human, though, and come from all demographics and genders. They share an abiding curiosity about the universe, and a wonder at the interconnectedness of cosmic phenomena. And most of them, too, are awed at the experience, still, of standing atop a mountain as the sky darkens and the stars appear.
To that end, we have this wondrous book by astronomer Emily Levesque, who shares the lore of observational astronomy and the fundamental humanity of the endeavor, along with many of its equally human flaws and foibles. She begins her story by telling us the personal history of her love of astronomy, and then some of the history of modern stargazing. As with any other endeavor, there is a kind of oral history of astronomy. Levesque has interviewed and consulted dozens of astronomers who have related their own stories along with those they have learned along the way, as part of the cultural history of their discipline. The author folds these into an ongoing narrative of what it is like to actually be at an observatory, the challenges of changing technology, the beauty of the mountaintops, some of the personalities and some of the tragedies. Yes, astronomy has proven fatal for a sad few. To her credit, she also draws on some of the issues that astronomy faces today, with advancing technology, conflicts over land use and cultural insensitivities, and its ongoing problems with gender and race representation in the field. She approaches these topics in an level-headed and yet somewhat urgent manner, recognizing that in today's unsettled world, this discpline, so steeped in its own history, needs to modernize to endure.
Still, this is a love story with astronomy, too. The human adventures are unique in the exotic nature of the study of the stars, the places these studies are undertaken, and in the increasingly complex technology used to do so. Levesque's telling of all of this is acessible and educational without being wonky or simplistic. We fly aboard a 747 carrying a massive telescope, we observe from concrete tunnels under a Washington meadow, we see the stars in radio light and the ultraviolet. We see them from underground and from space (though she leaves most space-based astronomy as an aside to the ground-based and somewhat vanishing aspect of the business). Levesque's personal journey is intertwined. Her writing is engaging and sometimes conversational. She expresses her own joy in her chosen path, inspired by what has come before, but nevertheless driven by her interest in the very stars she observes, when the weather allows, and the technology cooperates. In a time of reflexive cynical skepticism and gut-level thinking, it is good to be reminded of the basic human compulsion to explore and understand. We need stories like this to remind ourselves to be inspired by a true call to learn about the crazy wondrous cosmos we inhabit, maybe alone here. Astronomers learn early that we can't all be Carl Sagan, but in the stories Sagan told, and in the stories Levesque continues to tell, we can find inspiration. Recommended.
See Also: [The Perfect Machine, by Ronald Florence] [The Sky is not the Limit, by Neil Degrasse Tyson]