Galileo did not consider himself a heretic, and he didn’t even particularly see himself as a rebel-he did his best to adhere to the guidelines set down by the Church.

From the transcripts of his trials, we see Galileo the penitent Catholic. From the writings of cardinals and other correspondents, we see Galileo the gentleman philosopher. Through Maria Celeste’s letters, we see Galileo the father and convent benefactor. Sobel tackles Galileo the myth, deconstructs it, and shows us Galileo the man. We’ve rather mythologized Galileo, down to his defiant yet apocryphal, “And yet it moves!” that he was supposed to have uttered at his sentencing. What I most enjoyed about Sobel’s approach is the way she grounds Galileo’s life in the history of the Italian states and the Catholic Church (which is reeling from the ramifications of the Reformation). This is far more of a history book than a science book (and I’m ok with that). Hence, while Sobel will mention the science that Galileo advances, she doesn’t go into a great deal of detail about how that science works. The emphasis here is less on the scientific nature of Galileo’s work and more on the political and social context in which Galileo performed it.

Sobel begins with the usual tour of Galileo’s youth before digging into his decades of productive discovery, invention, experimentation, and writing. Though I’m not sure the amount of letters and focus on her is enough to earn the book its title, I’m willing to stipulate the conceit because the book is otherwise luscious. While Galileo is far better known than the subjects of her more recent The Glass Universe, Sobel takes a new approach to biography of him by including letters from his daughter, Maria Celeste. Her books make these historical figures come alive. She has this ability to discuss the history of science in an enlightening and inspiring way.

Dava Sobel is perhaps my favourite non-fiction author.

Dava sobel books