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Meet Victorian London's most dynamic duo: Charles Babbage, the unrealized inventor of the computer, and his accomplice, Ada, Countess of Lovelace, the peculiar protoprogrammer and daughter of Lord Byron. When Lovelace translated a description of Babbage's plans for an enormous mechanical calculating machine in 1842, she added annotations three times longer than the original work. Her footnotes contained the first appearance of the general computing theory, a hundred years before an actual computer was built. Sadly, Lovelace died of cancer a decade after publishing the paper, and Babbage never built any of his machines. But do not despair! The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage presents a rollicking alternate reality in which Lovelace and Babbage do build the Difference Engine and then use it to build runaway economic models, battle the scourge of spelling errors, explore the wilder realms of mathematics, and, of course, fight crime -- for the sake of both London and science. Complete with extensive footnotes that rival those penned by Lovelace herself, historical curiosities, and never-before-seen diagrams of Babbage's mechanical, steam-powered computer.… (more)
User reviews
This is one of those books where it is hard (if not impossible) to imagine anyone not loving it. The author’s immense enthusiasm for his subjects and his characters shines through on every single page of this volume and transmits itself to the reader thanks to the wonderful drawings, the stunning inventiveness and the catching humour with which Sydney Padua tells her stories. While these are not quite the historical Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace but alternative version who live in a pocket universe where the Analytical Engine was actually build, the author obviously loves her research and has dug up a huge amount of actual, real information, ranging from the fascinating to know to entertaining anecdotes to the outright bizarre, and she pours out this cornucopia of facts in a wealth of footnotes, end notes to the footnotes and footnotes to the end notes of the footnotes.
For anyone familiar with the web comic this is a very close and nice approximation of all the links to Google Documents Padua likes to sprinkle across her pages (and of course there are footnotes there, too) and while not quite as extensive, bookish footnotes have of course the advantage of being more period-appropriate. Another difference to the web version of Lovelace and Babbage is that (at least to my untrained eye) she seems to have re-worked the graphics – on the web site you can follow the evolution of the author’s drawing style and see her control of and playfulness with the medium grow from comic to comic. The book on the other hand presents the (current) peak of her craft and is much more unified; it also contains a new story not on the website featuring Ada in Wonderland. Both “Organised Crime” and “Vampire Poets” are not in the books though – but one can hope for a future volume.
Anyone not familiar with the web comic is in for the even bigger treat of encountering Lovelace and Babbage for the first time and experience the unfettered glee of seeing a historic injustice righted, our intrepid heroes rewarded with the appreciation they deserve while they use the powers of the Analytical Engine to fight crime in an almost-historical Victorian London. On the way, you will meet many of their contemporaries like you’ve never seen them before, from William Gladstone to George Eliot, from Queen Victoria to that irresistible sex symbol Isambard Kingdom Brunel, and much loud laughter, astonished gasps and delighted squees are bound to ensue. It is not all fun and chortles, though – Sidney Padua never lets the reader forget that it is alternative history she is drawing and that things did not work out that well for her protagonists in our version of history. Thus, she keeps a faint but steady current of melancholy running underneath her merry tale but at the same time always keeps their very real achievements in view, turning the comic into an homage to the indomitable spirit of discovery and invention (and quirky character traits). At the very least, do check out the website but I really cannot recommend this book strongly enough.
The subtitle of this graphic novel is "The (Mostly) True Story of the First Computer." The novel's creator, [[Sydney Padua]], manipulates the actual interactions of 19th century math prodigy Ada, Countess of Lovelace and eccentric
Babbage's Analytical Engine is central. Babbage designed a mechanical device, powered by a hand crank, with gears and shafts to calculate and print logorithmic tables. This he called the Difference Engine. A kind of test module was all that Babbage ever built, in part because he got a better idea: a much much larger and more complex machine with greater capabilities. He called that the Analytical Engine, and he didn't get that built either. He was fine-tuning his plans for it up until he died in 1871.
Ada, the Countess of Lovelace, you'll learn on the first page or two, was the daughter of poet Lord Byron. She was a math wiz, but also, as befits the spawn of Byron, a bit of a nutcase. She was 18 when she met the 42-year-old Babbage. Although a few experts dispute the claim, Lovelace is often cited as the person who wrote the first computer program. Padua, needless to say, makes a great deal of their association.
Padua conjures an alternative universe—Is this de rigueur in this type of publication?—so she can imagine that the Analytical Engine actually is built. She portrays it as a mammoth and deafening conglomeration of cogwheels, towering stacks of gears, shafts, levers, toggles, gauges, pipes, valves, pumps, tubes, switches, and endless belts of punched cards, housed in a Victorian warehouse of parallel corridors overhung by a web of catwalks suspended from skyhooks, linked by spiralling and Escherian stairways, all converging to a vanishing point shrouded in shadow and steam clouds. Superintending this mysterious, clicking, clanking, hissing, yes, even frightening, industrial-seeming behemoth—always just on the thin edge of control—is Ada Lovelace. Oh, not the frail Victorian Countess of Lovelace, but steely-eyed Ada, standing tall, clay pipe clamped in her teeth, garbed in Jodphurs, riding boots, and close-fitting tunic.
In an appendix, Padua does a remarkable job of transferring Babbage's 2-D engineering drawings of his machine into perspective views, to elucidate its operation. I can't say I grasp it entirely, but her presentation is fascinating.
In the short term, it all came to naught. Lovelace descended into periods of madness and died at 36 in 1852. Babbage rumbled on until his death in 1871, his Engines never built. But in the long term, Babbage is popularly recognized as the first computer designer, Lovelace as the first programmer. The book is novel, entertaining, and pretty informative.
Charles Babbage is Victorian London's unrecognized inventor of what would become the modern day computer with his plans for a monstrous mechanical calculating machine. Ada Lovelace is the Countess of Lovelace and daughter of the mad and brilliant poet, Lord Byron. Ada Lovelace translates a description of Babbage's calculating machine with annotations that were three times longer than the original plans. These footnotes from Lovelace actually contain the first known general computing theory, a century before the first actual computer was built! Unfortunately Lovelace passed away before her paper was ever published and Babbage never built his brilliant machine.
Sydney Padua creates an alternate reality where Lovelace and Babbage create their awesome calculating machine. A behemoth that grows and grows in steam powered engines, and gears, and analytics, and doo dads and just freakin' awesome stuff. They will open up and explore the wild and untamed dimensions of mathematics! They will create economic models to stave off depressions! The will battle the demons of spelling errors! And for the Queen herself, create dot matrix kittens!
Tongue in cheek perhaps, totally geeky surely, but fun all the same. Original. Thought provoking. Full of "what if" and untapped potential. In Babbage, the blustering scientist whose uncompromising and attitude make him a social pariah, Padua has developed a character whose brilliance makes him an outsider to a society he frowns upon but needs to continue his work. In Lovelace, the pre-feminist in Victorian society whose love of mathematics is only rivaled by her fear and disdain for poetry and the arts. Poetry which is in too many ways her opium, her drug, her weakness as she abhors the immoral ways of her father. Together they could have accomplished the unthinkable and in The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage, they do. Granted by happenstance at times but isn't half the fun?
A terrific read!
I actually didn’t read this book for a long time after buying it, as I thought it would simply print
I highly suggest this book for anyone who wants to know a bit about Ada Lovelace, Charles Babbage, the Difference Engine, the Analytical Engine, or Victorian-era political cartoons. If you like steampunk this should be required reading – yes the fiction of Verne is important, but a bit of grounding in the crazy science fact of the day is not to be overlooked. But even if none of that is particularly interesting, the book is educational, funny, frequently laugh-out-loud-in-a-restaurant funny, and yet at times deeply bittersweet. It is a wonderfully worthwhile read.
I’m glad the website is still up, because there are several wonderful vignettes that didn’t make it into the book, but I am extremely happy to have this hard copy, and may just give copies to people I like.
Dear Sydney Padua, thank you for teaching me about Isambard Kingdom Brunel.
The speculation in this book is, what would happen if they had actually been able to build the Analytical Engine and write code to program the machine. This speculation happens in a pocket universe where Padua can let her imagination flow. This book had a very interesting structure. Its the first book where I needed 2 bookmarks. Each page of each chapter had footnotes that related to the action in the various panels. There were also endnotes that further clarified the footnotes, as well as several appendices of various period documents (letters and articles) that helped emphasis the story.
What both fascinates me and frustrates me is that I'm not sure what's true and what's fiction. Obviously the main story is fiction, but the footnotes and endnotes provide excellent historical backup, but in some cases, I think, "that can't be true, can it?". Its witty, self-deprecating and I thoroughly enjoyed it. While I knew of Babbage and Lovelace beforehand, this give me incentive to read more about them.
8/10
S: 1/21/15 - F: 2/8/16 (19 Days)
First of all, it has Ada Lovelace, who is a fascinating person: the daughter of Lord Byron,
But what really made the academic historian in me squee was the research! Most of the dialog is quoted directly from primary sources. The book is full of other historical and literary figures such as Brunel, George Sand, Charles Dickens, and of course Queen Victoria. The comics not only have footnotes, but also endnotes AND appendices! Padua has done her research well, and clearly knows when she's being historical and when she is imagining alternate realities. The whole book is a labor of love and fascination, and as a reader, it is impossible not to share in that love and fascination.
This was fun to read, but now I'm looking forward to re-reading it.
They were also, apparently, really fascinating, eccentric, and colorful characters who make great material for a graphic novel. Although I'm not actually sure whether "graphic novel" is quite the right word for this book. It's a mixture of fiction and non-fiction, with, as the subtitle suggests, rather more of the latter than the former. Actually, its origin story is rather charming. The author initially just created a humorous little biography of Ada Lovelace in webcomic form. But she found the end of that story a little too depressing for the light tone of the comic: Lovelace, sadly, died young, and Babbage died frustrated and unfulfilled, having never succeeded in actually constructing his Engine. So Padua instead concluded her comic by imagining a "pocket universe" in which they were able to build the thing, after all, and use it to "have thrilling adventures and fight crime." The comic turned out to be quite popular, which was nice, but also led to people assuming she was now writing a comic about the alternate-universe adventures of Lovelace and Babbage, when really she was just making a throwaway joke. She kept insisting to people that no, she wasn't writing anything of the kind, even as she kept finding herself, well, sort of writing it. This book is the result!
I actually do think the Lovelace bio that starts it out is the best part. It's hilarious, informative, geeky, and delightful. The fictionalized adventures that follow are sometimes whimsical -- one of them features an Alice-in-Wonderland version of Lovelace falling through a looking-glass into the Engine itself -- but are mostly just little excuses to bring in other famous people of the time, many of whom were personally known to Babbage and Lovelace, often taking their dialog directly from their written works or letters, and providing lots and lots of factual footnotes. Which sounds a bit dry, and the footnotes do get a little out of hand in the first adventure -- something the author notices and ends up making a meta-joke about -- but overall it actually works surprisingly well. The humor is always cute and fun, the historical facts are genuinely interesting, and Padua is clearly so fond of these two nutty geniuses and enthused by her own research into them that it's truly infectious.
She also includes interesting quotes from some primary sources she's found at the end, as well as a section showing her own drawings of the Analytical Engine and taking us through its workings. (Well, in a simplified fashion, anyway, because it's all very dauntingly complex.)
Recommended for anyone who's interested in Lovelace and Babbage, the history of computer science, the Victorian era in general, or a bit of pleasantly nerdy humor.
The book begins with a brief
Padua’s art is wonderfully effective. Her black and white drawings are imbued with energy and life, and I’m completely jealous of her skill at creating such wonderfully expressive faces!
In the foreword, Sydney Padua describes how the book began as a brief comic she created at a friend’s request for Ada Lovelace Day. When the end of her comic suggested an alternate universe, various corners of the internet thought she was planning a webcomic about steampunk style adventures between the duo. Although Padua had no such plans in mind, she began researching Ada Lovelace and Charles Babbage, and she wound up becoming utterly fascinated with Lovelace, Babbage, and the Analytical Engine. And Padua’s passion for her subject matter shines through at every turn, and the book is so much greater for it.
Padua also found much potential humor lying in wait. For instance, Charles Babbage had a long lasting vendetta against street musicians. Even when Padua is departing on some flight of fantasy, she still provides extensive footnotes on historical information. I’m not kidding, there’s pages and pages of footnotes, and I highly suggest reading all of them. They’re both knowledgeable and engaging. I ended up learning a lot in the process of reading The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage, and like all the best books that dabble in history, it left me with a desire to go out and learn more.
I can’t recommend this altogether charming collection enough.
Originally posted on The Illustrated Page.
I think scholars can learn a thing or two from Padua. She has a passion for the subject that just jumps from the page and it is very infectious, also, she is hilarious. If I have just one criticism, it is that the footnotes during the comic,
The subtitle of this graphic novel is "The (Mostly) True Story of the First Computer." The novel's creator, [[Sydney Padua]], manipulates the actual interactions of 19th century math prodigy Ada, Countess of Lovelace and eccentric
Babbage's Analytical Engine is central. Babbage designed a mechanical device, powered by a hand crank, with gears and shafts to calculate and print logorithmic tables. This he called the Difference Engine. A kind of test module was all that Babbage ever built, in part because he got a better idea: a much much larger and more complex machine with greater capabilities. He called that the Analytical Engine, and he didn't get that built either. He was fine-tuning his plans for it up until he died in 1871.
Ada, the Countess of Lovelace, you'll learn on the first page or two, was the daughter of poet Lord Byron. She was a math wiz, but also, as befits the spawn of Byron, a bit of a nutcase. She was 18 when she met the 42-year-old Babbage. Although a few experts dispute the claim, Lovelace is often cited as the person who wrote the first computer program. Padua, needless to say, makes a great deal of their association.
Padua conjures an alternative universe—Is this de rigueur in this type of publication?—so she can imagine that the Analytical Engine actually is built. She portrays it as a mammoth and deafening conglomeration of cogwheels, towering stacks of gears, shafts, levers, toggles, gauges, pipes, valves, pumps, tubes, switches, and endless belts of punched cards, housed in a Victorian warehouse of parallel corridors overhung by a web of catwalks suspended from skyhooks, linked by spiralling and Escherian stairways, all converging to a vanishing point shrouded in shadow and steam clouds. Superintending this mysterious, clicking, clanking, hissing, yes, even frightening, industrial-seeming behemoth—always just on the thin edge of control—is Ada Lovelace. Oh, not the frail Victorian Countess of Lovelace, but steely-eyed Ada, standing tall, clay pipe clamped in her teeth, garbed in Jodphurs, riding boots, and close-fitting tunic.
In an appendix, Padua does a remarkable job of transferring Babbage's 2-D engineering drawings of his machine into perspective views, to elucidate its operation. I can't say I grasp it entirely, but her presentation is fascinating.
In the short term, it all came to naught. Lovelace descended into periods of madness and died at 36 in 1852. Babbage rumbled on until his death in 1871, his Engines never built. But in the long term, Babbage is popularly recognized as the first computer designer, Lovelace as the first programmer. The book is novel, entertaining, and pretty informative.
And then there are the fantastical steampunk adventures they might have had if only they'd gotten around to making the first computer. The adventures are as heavily footnoted as the
Padua's tales (more vignettes than typical stories) are best in conveying specific aspects of the Engine or the biographies of Lovelace and Babbage, in a cheeky manner but without losing the thread of their accomplishments. Without the footnotes and documentation, the comic itself would be a far lesser achievement.
//
Fabulism aside, Padua's documentation is detailed, I can imagine no better introduction to both the breadth of Lovelace's biography and Babbage's, as well as several of the finer details and asides. It appears Padua found a primary document unknown to scholars which she uses to claim proof of Lovelace's mathematics bona fides and of Babbage's sincere admiration for her as friend and mathematician:
The anti-Ada position, briefly, was that Babbage was never a true friend to Lovelace; that he did not think her a good mathematician; and that he must basically have written the Notes on the Engine himself. So you may imagine my very great pleasure when I stumbled across a document that contradicts every one of these points at one single stroke. [241]
The document is a letter from Henry Reed, describing a personal visit from Babbage and published in an 1867 number of Southern Review, stating explicitly that Babbage said to Reed that Lady Lovelace was the author of the only paper on the "software" for his Engine, and he admired her skills very much. There is at this time no reason at all to believe Reed would fabricate.
It's lovely and wonderful. I hope Padua writes more.
In reality, both Lovelace and Babbage died before the Analytical Engine could be built. In this book, however, Padua plays a bit loose with time and space and history, inventing a "pocket universe" in which Lovelace didn't die young, the Analytical Engine was built and functional (mostly), and Lovelace and Babbage team up and use their invention to solve crimes, among other services to the realm.
Review: This graphic novel is not your standard graphic novel. Several of the actual comics that are included in the book can be found at Padua's website. But in the book, they're surrounded with text - introduction, footnotes, extensive endnotes, back matter, etc., which was way more than I was expecting - usually I can fly through a graphic novel in an hour or so... this one took me five days of serious concentration. So Padua does a lot of things with layout, and format, and the combinations of fiction and fact, and footnotes, and the ratio of graphic to actual text, that all felt very experimental to me. I don't know that the experiment was entirely successful, at least for me, but I really appreciate the magnitude of what Padua was trying to tackle here, and the creative way she went about doing it. I did find the history very interesting - Lovelace and Babbage's story was not one that I'd encountered before - and I liked the steampunk sensibility to the pocket universe scenes, and the funny (if exceptionally and awesomely nerdy) jokes sprinkled throughout. But because I have a pathological inability to just leave endnotes to the end, instead referencing them whenever they appear in the text, the format really broke up the flow for me, and I found it extremely difficult to just kick back and enjoy the fun steampunky story parts. But even in the denser, more technical parts of the book, the whole enterprise was saved by the author's clear gleeful enthusiasm for her subject matter that comes bubbling through the thick Victorian quotations and the complicated mathematical explanations. This book was challenging for me, both in terms of material and in terms of format, but it was a good challenge, and I think it helps to keep expanding our boundaries around what graphic novels are and what they can do, even if this particular effort didn't entirely work for me. 3 out of 5 stars.
Recommendation: If you go into this looking for just comics, I'd stick to reading the ones that are available on Padua's website. But if you're interested in the history of science and mathematics, or like steampunk but want the real history behind some of the most steampunky things the actual Victorian era produced, this is an ambitious but still light-hearted way to approach some of that.
I was first drawn to this as I recalled