From
a few, solid perspectives, Kim Stanley Robinson’s 2009 Galileo’s
Dream is the perfect bit of
historical fiction. Where some modern writers will relay history in
near-fictional form, i.e. adding dialogue, emotions, etc., not all of
which are directly taken from recorded history, this approach can
often feel disingenuous, like the writer is preying upon our
acceptance of their conjecture. Galileo’s
Dream thrusts in a different
direction: science fiction.
Robinson
clearly having pored over biographies of Galileo and the Italian
mathematician/scientist/lens
maker/astronomer/author/physicist/engineer’s own written works, not
to mention histories of Galileo’s era, the Catholic church, and
many other contributory sources, a good two-thirds to three quarters
is a mimetic imagining of the man’s life—dialogue, emotions,
stream of consciousness, etc. But where Robinson departs from the
presentation of historical fiction is to introduce the ludicrous.
Yes, the ludicrous. Sending Galileo into the future, particularly
into a war being fought among Jupiter’s moons by the future of
humanity, the 16th century mathematician meets the next millennium.
At
various points in Galileo’s life, Robinsons whisks the
mathematician away to the reach of Jovian space. He is thus able to
interweave two sources of tension into the narrative. On one side is
Galileo’s real-life, including clashes with the Vatican and dealing
with a difficult family life, some of which Galileo brings on
himself. Purporting Copernican ideals that directly undercut Papal
teachings, Galileo’s desire to be honest and express scientific
truth quickly gets him in trouble with the authoritarian conservatism
of the Catholic church. But among Jupiter’s moons, Galileo’s
troubles interestingly become more personal (rather than political,
as one might expect given the war happening around him). Robinson
using the man’s experience among the stars to confront emotional
and psychological issues, the war happening in the background is the
glitter and confetti providing sparkle to that portion of the
narrative, but not its driving force. The story bouncing back and
forth between the two settings, Robinson overall maintains a strong
storyline within interest beyond historical fact.
It
would be remiss not to finish this review without mentioning the
importance Robinson places on Galileo as a critivcal iconoclast to
human history. Too many of Galileo’s vices are described for the
novel to be considered hero worship, nevertheless to not see the
novel as the means to reminding modern society as to the importance
and significance of Galileo in the rise of science, something which
we take for so much for granted. Along with the non-standard manner
in which Robinson breathes life into a biography, Galileo’s Dream
is worth reading for that.
Thus,
if you’re interested in the life of Galileo, Robinson’s novel is
one way to learn more; the key points of the man’s adult life,
private and professional, are arranged in engaging, narrative
fashion. Robinson looks to get under the hood of not only the man’s
deeds, but the psyche behind them, in an effort to try to understand
what lead him to do the things history records him as doing. But
there is more of substance available; a splash of science fiction
sensawunda that adds a degree of interest to the book, helping usher
Galileo through the phases of his life, even as a far-future war
plays out along plausible lines behind him. This isn’t the best
“biography” I’ve ever read, but it certainly is one of, if not
the most unique.
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