Themes
Key
LitCharts assigns a color and icon to each theme in A Short History of Nearly Everything, which you can use to track the themes throughout the work.
Science, Discovery, and Mystery
Writing, Wonder, and Inspiration
Progress, Sexism, and Dogma
Existence, Awe, and Survival
Summary
Analysis
Bryson describes Scottish scientist and farmer James Hutton (born in 1726) as the inventer of geology but a painfully obtuse writer. In Hutton’s time, many scientists are wondering why so many clam fossils are found on mountaintops. “Neptunists” believe that changes in sea levels are responsible (meaning the mountains were once underwater), while “Plutonists” think volcanic eruptions spewed clams out from the sea and landed them on top of mountains. While examining soil on his farmland, however, Hutton has a brilliant insight: he realizes that if the mountains were once underwater, erosion would have made them smooth, like pebbles.
So far, Bryson has stressed that scientific claims need to be accessible for their full impact to be realized. Here, he provides a tangible example of a case in which brilliant ideas are impinged by bad writing. Bryson begins by describing Hutton’s idea—that mountains can’t have been underwater because they betray no signs of erosion—in simple, intuitive language, which he will shortly contrast with Hutton’s own convoluted prose.
Themes
Mountains aren’t smooth, however—they’re clearly made of jagged surfaces that would have eroded away if they were once underwater. Hutton concludes this must mean that the mountains rose up out of the ground, taking even older clam fossils with them when the mountains formed. He also deduces that heat within Earth must be responsible for warping its surface to make mountains. Hutton’s intuitions are correct—they anticipate plate tectonics theory, which argues that mountains are created when tectonic plates that slide around on hot molten rocks smash into one another.
Bryson continues explaining Hutton’s insights in clear, digestible prose to emphasize the importance of this kind of scientific description. Hutton effectively anticipates plate tectonics theory almost two centuries before it’s fully accepted in the scientific community, but, as Bryson is about to show, Hutton’s own poor writing is partially responsible for why his ideas are overlooked.
Themes
Hutton publishes several books on his findings, but unfortunately they’re written in such convoluted prose that nobody understands what he’s talking about. His insights are thus completely ignored by the scientific community. Charles Lyell, who later lays the foundations of modern geology, admits that “he couldn’t get through” Hutton’s books. Hutton’s insights are marginally salvaged when Hutton’s good friend, mathematician John Playfair (who “could write silken prose”) summarizes Hutton’s ideas in 1802, five years after Hutton’s death.
Bryson emphasizes that clear, engaging writing is essential for scientific progress by comparing Hutton’s poor writing with Playfair’s “silken prose.” Had Hutton written like Playfair, his ideas might have been incorporated into the geological scientific community much more easily. Hutton’s inaccessible writing is thus directly responsible for Lyell’s failure to emphasize their import when he lays the foundations of modern geology.
Themes
Geology takes the 19th-century world by storm. Roderich Murchison’s 1839 book The Silarium System (about rocks) is a bestseller, and Lyell’s 1841 lectures on marine zeolites are sold out in Boston. People venture to the country for a bit of leisurely “stone breaking”—in formal attire, no less—including Lyell’s eccentric professor, the Reverend William Buckland (who famously tried to eat one of every animal that existed).
Bryson shows that even the most seemingly dull scientific pursuits (like Lyell’s lectures on “marine zeolites”) can foster tremendous public engagement when they are well-expressed. This is important because public engagement (in activities like “stone breaking”) can tangibly contribute to scientific progress.
Themes
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In this period, geologists are divided into two camps about the events that shaped Earth in its early history. Buckland is a “catastrophist” who believes catastrophic events like floods shaped Earth. This also aligns with Buckland’s faith, since Christianity references ancient floods and plagues and such. His student Lyell, on the other hand, is a “uniformitarian”: he believes that change happened slowly and gradually. Eventually, the uniformitarian view wins out, and Lyell goes on to become the father of modern geological thought, publishing the landmark The Principles of Geology in 1830. His work is profoundly influential—Darwin even takes a copy with him when theorizing evolution in the Galapagos.
Bryson introduces the idea that religious beliefs can misdirect scientific perspectives with the case of Buckland, whose emphasis on the scientific importance of catastrophic events is inspired by his Christian faith. This example begins to weave in the idea that religious dogma often impinges scientific progress. In this case, Buckland’s ideas lose their momentum, but Bryson will soon raise many other examples in which religious beliefs end up costing scientists valuable time and efforts in the quest for progress.
Themes
In this era, scientists agree on four broad geological eras—Precambian, Palezoic, Mesozoic, and Cenozoic—but they still don’t know what time periods apply for each age. Speculation abounds about Earth’s age, coming from every corner of Europe’s intellectual community. Irish Archbishop James Ussher concludes that Earth was created at “midday on October 23, 4004 B.C.,” to scientific ridicule. Even the eccentric Buckland thinks biblical genesis lasted “millions upon millions of years.”
Bryson uses humor to ridicule Ussher’s claim about Earth’s creation and further expose how unfounded religious ideas can—if they’re taken seriously—sway scientists in the opposite direction of progress. The lack of knowledge about the duration of Earth’s geological eras shows that a lot of scientific knowledge about Earth’s history is yet to be uncovered.
Themes
Compte de Buffon, meanwhile, runs strange experiments that involve heating up model globes until they’re white-hot and then touching them to measure heat loss. He estimates that Earth is approximately 75,000-168,000 years old, while Darwin curiously claims that parts of Earth are 306,662,400 years old before rescinding his suggestion. Even the illustrious Lord Kelvin—who patents modern refrigeration, devises absolute temperature, and makes profound contributions in thermodynamics—is stumped. He assumes that the sun is young because it still has “fuel,” and he grossly underestimates Earth’s age despite fossil evidence to the contrary.
Bryson runs through several figures who try, in all sorts of eccentric ways, to estimate Earth’s age. His examples show how much speculation and guesswork is involved in scientific claims, meaning that there is always a wide margin for error. Bryson’s example of Lord Kelvin shows that scientific mysteries can elude even the brightest minds, meaning that even when fiercely intelligent people dwell on a problem, the answer can still be evasive and demand further inquiry.
Themes
