Letters From An Astrophysicist, by Neil DeGrasse Tyson, W.W. Norton & Company, 2019.
Hardcover. Glued. Index of Subjects. 0.7 pounds. Discovered at Eureka Springs Carnegie Library; purchased at Alibris.com.
It is a small book, fitting comfortably in my hands, light with strong binding, and easy-to-read typeset on good-quality paper. The book feels solid in my hands but it is small; I could tuck this book easily into a small satchel to take to a café to read.
Tyson’s quality shines throughout, from the first epigraph to the last page’s reproduction of a beautifully written letter from himself to his parents upon his Master’s Degree graduation, written in accomplished calligraphy.
The book is organized by four major themes titled in Greek, sub-titled with an explanation. Each theme is broken into three chapters, which have a collection of letters from people writing to DeGrasse and his responses back. The four themes with his subtitles are as follows:
Ethos: The Characteristic Spirit of a Culture, Manifested in its Beliefs and Aspirations
Cosmos: The Universe Seen as a Well-Ordered Whole
Pathos: A Plaintive Appeal to Emotions That Already Reside Within Us
Kairos: A Propitious Moment for Decision or Action
A Eulogy, of Sorts
Tyson’s writing is personable, friendly, direct. Sometimes I feel he is too curt with someone, too short in his explanation, too insensitive to the appeals in some of the letters. But he acknowledges that at times, in some letters, he is a frank, direct speaker.
I also have to stand back and marvel that he took the time at all to write any letters to any stranger seeking further knowledge, understanding, or argumentation. He is, after all, the Director of New York City’s Hayden Planetarium, an astrophysicist with the American Museum of Natural History, author of eight books, lecturer, host of radio and TV shows, and all-around ambassador for science.
Whew! I got tired just writing down all his accomplishments while sitting here in my robe, on a Saturday morning resting from a week of retail work, enjoying the warmth of my apartment while it is cold and rainy outside. I’m no ambassador, nor perhaps accomplishing anything of note. So I may cringe a time or two when I read one of his responses, but then quickly recover with admiration he made any effort at all to engage with curious people.
One poignant fact Tyson does not belabor nor paper over is the simple reality that he is a Black American. In one letter, the writer earnestly wants to know if science has done more harm than good over the history of humanity. Tyson’s last paragraph in his answer states, “And I maintain that without the progress of science, I, today, would be someone’s slave…” To me, that is a powerful reminder indeed of our progress as a society and the positive role science can play.
I love Tyson’s clarity of thought, his succinct answers, his devotion to the scientific method, and his understanding of the foibles of humans who work in science, use science in policy, argue against science, or elevate one’s own beliefs by trying to stand upon science’s shoulders. He simply loves science and is enthused by it. To me, this approach is infectious. I walk away from reading a few passages of this book with an appreciation for clearer thinking in a muddled world.
Although he seems to discount philosophy in some of his letters and does not adhere to any religion, this is a book of meditations. There is an overarching theme and construct, but it is not plot driven. These are vignettes of thoughts, insights, and reflections on science. This book could be read in just a few sittings, but why? It’s a conversation full of mini-conversations that all require a slow read and thoughtful consideration.
In fact, I want to continue many of the conversations, to engage Tyson in further explorations of the topics raised by his enquirers. But he’s a busy man, and really, if I just sit back a moment to ponder his answers or opinions, I can gain further insight in how to think, especially scientifically.
For instance, in the chapter on Death, he quotes himself from his earlier book Astrophysics for People in a Hurry on the “cosmic perspective,” which has eleven points that touch on a larger theme of human existence. One theme: Spirituality: “The cosmic perspective is spiritual—even redemptive—but not religious.” But what does he mean by ‘redemptive’? I would love to hear him explain that further; but let me ponder…
My first inclination is to recoil from that word due to my own religious upbringing and therefore prejudice on what the word means. I looked in my dictionary for further insight; ‘redemptive’ does not have its own entry so I must tease the meaning from ‘redeem’ and ‘redemption.’ Under redeem, religion is not mentioned until the seventh definition out of nine; many of the others refer to a more economic meaning. Redemptive is an adjectival form of redeem, rooted from Latin to mean ‘to buy,’ evolving into a meaning I would sum up as ‘recovery of property,’ or ‘restoration of a prior state.’
It seems, then, that Tyson is suggesting the cosmic perspective can buy us freedom from our personally limited awareness of the world around us so that we can restore our innocent wonder.
I get chills when I learn something new deep in my gut.
I am spiritually fed when meditating on his replies to writers’ enquiries. And I am further nourished by reading such as the following: “The cosmic perspective not only embraces our genetic kinship with all life on Earth but also values our chemical kinship with any yet-to-be discovered life in the universe, as well as our atomic kinship with the universe itself. We are Stardust.”
It’s a small book, yes; and filled with the universe.
Your response to this book makes me want to read it. I, too, am startled awake when I am reminded of being akin to stardust. The simple realization stirs me from the mundane, from my daily forgetfulness that we are all connected to that initial compulsion to exist.
Yes, Mr. Tyson is an enthusiastic reminder for us humans of our place in the universe. Thank you.