A Short History of Nearly Everything

As someone who was a chemistry major for a semester and a half, I have a healthy respect for the sciences. I have a decent grasp of basic chem, as well as biology from working in a cancer biology lab for a year. On top of that, I have a fairly good grasp of basic physics and the other major sciences. I like science, I appreciate science. So it should come as no surprise that Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything was a good read for me. The title doesn't lie. Bryson does a good job of giving a crash course in more fields of study than you would think there possibly could be.

Divided by scientific subject and focusing largely on how each field plays into what we experience in regular life, Bryson's book attempts to delve into the epistemology of the sciences, how do we know what we know, the corresponding history of such events, and above all, to create a book about science for everyone that was turned off by the density and sterility of grade school textbooks. Bryson's stories and historical biographical notes of researchers and fieldworkers tend to be humorous (especially if they worked during the 18th and 19th century), and the facts presented are generally astounding. The reader might have heard that Yellowstone National Park is really a volcano, but Bryson's research states much more than a big boom: we're talking death to everyone between the Mississippi and Pacific. Bryson entertains with recountings of strange botanist that preferred to do fieldwork while in the nude, university custodians who penned essays on particle physics that rivaled Einstein, and countless revolutionary ideas that went unnoticed for decades. One special ability of Bryson's that more educators need to pick up on is the ability to inflate the microscopic into terms that are understandable on a real world level. Bringing the cell or atom up to fathomable size is more difficult than one would expect. The same goes for doing the opposite and putting astronomical values like the distance between planets and solar systems on a human level.

A Short History of Nearly Everything faltered in a few places for me though. I found that areas I had already studied to a collegiate level of understanding, like the cell, photosynthesis, or molecular theory were tiresome. The book is not a quick read by any means, at a length of over 500 pages and often consisting of dense material (see particle physics/subatomic particles). I would have enjoyed it more if the material I already knew went down a little easier. Sections on biology, geology, and oceanography felt rather heavy handed, which isn't surprising since geology and oceanography are known to be two of the lesser sciences in academia. Also, for some reason, Bryson ends a book full of amazing theories and facts with a rather dour chapter on all the species humans have helped usher out the door since our arrival. Bryson eschews the style of presenting solid and jaw-dropping information (which was entirely possible to pull of here), and instead goes for a more leaden prose. The result is more than a tad bit disappointing and mostly gloomy.

Even though it is significant, the final chapter is the only one that altogether fails. Otherwise, there are 470 pages that will more than likely captivate the reader while teaching them (sometimes useless) facts. I would warn anyone who had more than an amateur interest in the sciences to read this for pleasure -- professors would probably gag at what they read about their own line of work. But for the general reader, Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything is entertaining and thought-provoking. I never knew so much about astrophysics or why a species' move from being quadrupeds to bipeds is so risky (pelvis and hips must become weight-bearing, birth canal narrows, means pain for mom in child birth and babies born without fully formed brains, lack self-sufficiency at early age). I recommend that readers give this one a shot, and dump it if it isn't for you.


I'm reading a handful of books right now, including some poems by Frank O'Hara, the famous Freakonomics book, and a biography of Charles Bukowski by Barry Miles. Look for reviews when I finish.