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Overview
Winner of the Los Angeles Times Book Prize
The early years of the nineteenth century saw an intriguing yet little-known scientific advance catapult a shy young Quaker to the dizzy heights of fame. The Invention of Clouds tells the extraordinary story of an amateur meteorologist, Luke Howard, and his groundbreaking work to define what had hitherto been random and unknowable structures—clouds.
In December 1802, Luke Howard delivered a lecture that was to be a defining point in natural history and meteorology. He named the clouds, classifying them in terms that remain familiar to this day: cirrus, stratus, cumulus, and nimbus. This new and precise nomenclature sparked worldwide interest and captured the imaginations of some of the century's greatest figures in the fields of art, literature, and science. Goethe, Constable, and Coleridge were among those who came to revere Howard's vision of an aerial landscape. Legitimized by the elevation of this new classification and nomenclature, meteorology fast became a respectable science.
Although his work is still the basis of modern meteorology, Luke Howard himself has long been overlooked. Part history of science, part cultural excavation, The Invention of Clouds is a detailed and informative examination of Howard's life and achievements and introduces a new audience to the language of the skies.
Synopsis
In 1802, Luke Howard, an amateur meteorologist, delivered a lecture in which he presented a nomenclature to classify clouds. Still in use today, this nomenclature launched the science of meterology (and also captured the imaginations of some of the 19th century's greatest figures in the fields of art, literature, and science). His story is told here by Hamblyn, who is a graduate of the universities of Essex and Cambridge, where he wrote a doctoral dissertation on the early history of geology in Britain. The book's design is unusual and somewhat inexplicable: wider than it is tall (8.5x5.5), it tends to fall out of the reader's hands.
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Kirkus Reviews
When Luke Howard named the clouds 200 years ago, it was an exciting, popular event. Science writer Hamblyn taps into that electricity and sends it running through the pages of this exemplary, scientific-history deubt. Others have tried to get a handle on clouds, the most ungraspable element in nature, explains Hamblyn. There were Thales of Miletus, the Taoist Ministry of Thunder, and three men whose heads were always far into the atmosphere: Democritus, Aristotle, and Lucretius. The brilliant if quixotic Robert Hooke had classified clouds in the mid-17th century ("cleer," "checker'd," "hairy," "water'd," and "lowring"), but it was Howard's labels ("cirrus," "stratus," "cumulous," and "nimbus") that seized the popular imagination and held fast. The turn of the 19th century was a great age of science and talk, and the natural sciences were in "a search for narrative order among events. Since the sky has always been more read than measured, it has always been the province of words." If something as restless and mutable as clouds could be captured in variations of four termswell, that made Howard a latter-day alchemist who brought home the bacon. The author does a peerless job setting the scientific scene during the period, describing the increasingly charged atmosphere at the hall where Howard unveiled his classification, and the remarkable journey it led him on into "the nacreous realm of fame": Goethe took his paper and made a poem out of it, while Constable consulted his work during his studies of clouds. Hamblyn is a particularly graceful writer, even when, rapt in the sound of his own voice, he finds another way to say what he said the sentence before. "Clouds themselves, by their very nature, are self-ruining and fragmentary," he says, then quickly reminds us that "every cloud is a small catastrophe, a world of vapor that dies before our eyes." You'll never confuse a nimbocumulus with a cumulonimbus again, once you finish this entertaining and a luminous history of meteorology.