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Long before Oliver Sacks became a distinguished neurologist and bestselling writer, he was a small English boy fascinated by metals-also by chemical reactions (the louder and smellier the better), photography, squids and cuttlefish, H.G. Wells, and the periodic table. In this endlessly charming and eloquent memoir, the author chronicles his love affair with science and the magnificently odd and sometimes harrowing childhood in which that love affair unfolded. In Uncle Tungsten we meet Sacks' extraordinary family, from his surgeon mother, who introduces the fourteen-year-old Oliver to the art of human dissection, and his father, a family doctor who imbues in his son an early enthusiasm for housecalls, to his "Uncle Tungsten," whose factory produces tungsten-filament light bulbs. We follow the young Oliver as he is exiled at the age of six to a grim, sadistic boarding school to escape the London Blitz, and later watch as he sets about passionately reliving the exploits of his chemical heroes, in his own home laboratory. Uncle Tungsten is a crystalline view of a brilliant young mind springing to life, a story of growing up which is by turns elegiac, comic, and wistful, full of the electrifying joy of discovery.… (more)
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Sacks was a remarkable chronicler of the mind and
Lastly, Sacks literary style is severely lacking in the flow department. He frequently interrupts the narrative to walk us with excruciating detail through technical explanations of the chemical properties of an element or an experiment he conducted in his basement. Feels like his editor gave him a free pass to ramble at ease.
The bottom line is, this concave book has a more limited appeal than expected, given what we know of the author. Instead of reflections on his childhood, we are treated to a master lecture on chemistry and physics. His omissions tell us more about him than his narrative. Unless you have a particular penchant for the hard sciences, you may find yourself frustrated in this read.
His early fascination with chemistry was based on his attraction to the physical properties of materials he saw as solid, permanent in contrast to the chaotic and unreliable social world of WWII.
This early interest was
It is a vivid example of the interplay of nature and nurture.
When told that Henry Cavendish discovered hydrogen, that Mendeleev devised the periodic table, etc., instead of a quickening of interest, my response was continuously, "Yes, I know."
If you didn't take (or have largely forgotten) high school chemistry, and have some interest in science, then this book will provide you with a recounting of chemical thought from earliest times up through Niels Bohr's quantum theories about electrons. It's well-written and very accessible. If you do remember your high school chemistry, the book will probably disappoint a bit.
I found the book rather sad at the end. All the love of chemistry that permeated Oliver Sacks' life was repressed when he reading adolescence as it was expected he would become a doctor. Which he did -- and where he has made a large difference to many lives. But what would have happened had he followed his heart?
But there is more to the book that makes me give this an enthusiastic five stars. As a chemist I was delighted to read a book that gave insight into this space of history of the chemistry profession. The history is two-fold: first it is a history of childhood enthusiasm for science and second it is a history of chemistry in the middle of the 1900s. many a child is enthusiastic about something. For all those children who loved science but never had the means to explore this book will bring sadness at what they lost for not being given such freedom and support. But the book also brings joy at reading that someone, somewhere had the chance to be the brilliant child you always thought you were. Today we highly restrict certain chemicals and also have an emphasis on safety in working with all chemicals. Sacks presents a time period when chemistry and science in general was done with little concern for safety. Instead of glossing over things Sacks presents information and experiments without deluding the reading into thinking it was perfectly safe.
This book is an excellent exploration of multiple themes that are well worth thinking about. I challenge anyone to read it and not find something in it that doesn't provoke some thoughts about what you are doing now with what you are enthusiastic about or what you loved childhood and now have lost as an adult.
Typical of his generous, positive view is that even these sad times (like his brother’s eventual mental illness, and his parents’ unawareness of his own suffering at the horrible school and their inexplicably thoughtless, even insensitive, behavior, and his own anxieties and isolation) never sound regretful or self-centeredly whiny, though he describes them forthrightly. He’s generous and direct and loving in his description of his passions, as well as his depiction of his enormously engaging, supportive and remarkable family. It’s refreshing to read a personal account that is not tortured or blaming.
We know a little boy like this. At the tender age of five, enamored with fire, the boy believed he could make a rocket. He took a four foot length of copper pipe into his backyard, and rammed it into the earth beneath the cavernous shade of a decrepit willow. Into this vessel, he poured a fair amount of gasoline, some measure of other dangerous chemicals, and added a good dose of industrial petroleum jelly. One can readily guess the attitude of his mother when he went inside the house to ask where the family kept the matches.
Despite this early setback, the boy went on with his experiments, such as they were. He was limited by his lack of chemical guidance, and by a stock of materials that consisted of whatever he could scrounge from the garage or the basement. He never did anything important and never learned much of anything except what would and what would not readily burned. This was the extent of his explorations.
As he proceeded through science classes in school, he found he had a great aptitude for chemistry. He easily grasped the principles of organic chemistry when other classmates struggled. The entire concept of a chemical bond seemed so obvious to him as to be second nature. Yet, there was something amiss with our young man's process into the world of science. While he loved to learn the laws and the measure of things, the way certain elements combined while others would not, and how one might tear apart these materials with surprising ease, he sensed a gap in his knowledge. He was learning only the data and theory, but nothing of the process. He had no understanding whatsoever of how all of this knowledge came to be, even less how he seemed to know without knowing all that his teachers would tell.
It wasn't until much later in life, when the boy had left the field of chemistry behind and turned his interests elsewhere, that he discovered what he was missing all those years ago. What he was missing was history. In history, he found the stories of men and women, driven to light fires in the darkness, probing their way through a murky world of an evolving field of thought. There, he found context.
Without context, one is highly unlikely to discover anything new, unless entirely by accident and then it is doubtful that one would recognize the new phenomenon when it was found. In the study of history, one will find examples of just this sort of miraculous tinkering. One will also discover how, with just a slight change in this method or another, a crackpot suddenly becomes a genius.
Unlike the boy in our story, Dr. Oliver Sacks had the benefit of growing up in a scientific family. He had aunts and uncles and parents who were practicing doctors and scientists. All of these sources turned the young Oliver on to the history of science, a history which our boy was so sadly ignorant. Through young Oliver's eyes, we recognized how basic knowledge and the ready availability of materials, combined with practical experience to drive a boy to experiment. However, it was the exposure to history, Dr. Sacks's love of the lives of the scientists who had come before him, that enabled the boy to move from mere mimicry to mastery.
Or at least this is what we're led to believe.
Dr. Sacks does such a wonderful job of introducing history only when the reader {and the boy who is his memory} is prepared to receive it, that we wonder if reality matches the perfect and structured way his education seemed to present itself. Still, even if the truth is a picture of fits and starts, we hardly mind. The book was a pleasure to read, and ought to be required reading for all students of science. Not only will they come away with a better understanding of the facts, but context both the history and a connection with the author's experience will fuel their curiosity.
As we read, we kept finding ourselves referring to the periodic table of elements included in the book. We mused on the possibility of setting up a lab of our own, playing at the experiments. When we caught ourselves in the midst of seriously considering the construction of a Leyden jar, we laughed and wondered how we could feel like such little children again, caught up in the love of science so that we might do such things if only because they could be done.
We are greatly indebted to Dr. Sacks for writing this book, and sharing his personal {and often painful} history. The boy who built the rocket in his backyard would have recognized young Oliver's retreat into the solitary. Perhaps, if he'd had the same advantages, he too might have discovered some comfort in the shelter of science. For us, it was rejuvenating to muse again not just how a fire burns, but why.
- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER
There is quite a lot of the history of science in here, the move from alchemy to chemistry, the development of the periodic table, the discoveries of different elements and the structure of the atom. There is a lot less about Sacks' childhood. It is almost mentioned in passing along side the shifting interest in all things chemical. He describes his school being evacuated during the first art of the war and the dreadful experience he had there, but it barely makes more than a paragraph. His brother's response to the school and the impact on him mental health is hardly more than a couple of lines. Which makes for an odd read, if I'm honest. It's not a memoir of childhood, more a memoir of an interest in chemistry. As a scientist myself, I knew (or once knew) most of the technical detail in here. In which case, for me, it was more a refresher and reminder of what makes science so enthralling. I'm not sure what the non-technical reader would make of it.