[.uk] The Invention of Clouds: How an Amateur Meteorologist ... (ISBN 033039195X)

Amazon.com Review:
British science writer Richard Hamblyn skillfully blends biography with scientific and cultural history to capture for modern readers the remarkable achievement of Luke Howard (1772-1864), the quiet Quaker whose classification of cloud types we still employ today. "Cirrus," "cumulus," and "stratus" now seem almost self-evident descriptions, but when Howard gave his epochal lecture at London's Askesian Society in 1802, the bewildering variety of clouds was more obvious than anything else. Howard's great achievement, writes Hamblyn with characteristic elegance, was "the penetrating insight that clouds have many individual shapes but few basic forms." His graceful résumé of meteorology from the time of the ancient Chinese shows just how difficult generations of scientists found it to make sense of clouds, which frequently served as a metaphor for the awesome complexity of the natural world. Hamblyn's marvelous portrait of English cultural life at the turn of the 19th century reminds us how enthralled the general public was by scientific lectures and demonstrations, which served as a form of popular entertainment as well as a valuable tool in the dissemination of knowledge. "People cheered at lectures," he notes, and young men like Howard, a pharmacist by trade, "refused to allow the circumstances in which they found themselves to deflect them from (a) heroic sense of destiny." This was the great age of amateur scientists, many of them Dissenters like Howard whose religious unorthodoxy barred them from government service and aristocratic clubs. They forged their own place in England's burgeoning industries and in the scientific revolution unleashed by Isaac Newton. Howard, a devoted husband and father active in educational work and the antislavery movement, was representative of the remarkable autodidacts who reshaped European culture. Their work "served the equal demands of pleasure, instruction, and imagination," states Hamblyn, whose delightful book fulfills the same admirable purpose. --Wendy Smith

The creation of a new language of science and art.:
A young man, obsessed with clouds and their formation, makes a detailed study of them. All this has been done before, but never in such a concise, visionary way, nor with a naming convention as brilliant in its simplicity, expressiveness and utility as Luke Howard's. His story is dealt with in a series of chapters that digress from the main thrust of the book to outline the history of the philosophical changes that were taking place, in Europe particularly. Almost any cockeyed idea found a ready audience, who were equally ready to dismiss ideas out-of-hand. The trick was presentation. Many of the famous names in science at the end of the 18th century were showmen, financing their researches by giving displays or private shows... getting your name known was half the battle. Luke Howard was born into a world where being in the right place at the right time meant more than any social connections or political clout. But, being a Dissenter, he had no formal education, no political clout and no social connections - not much chance for him to get his ideas aired, it seemed. Nor was he a showman - his Quaker upbringing saw to that - so luck, and dedication, came to his assistance. Philosophical societies and journals were in their infancy, and were ready to embrace anyone who could increase membership or circulation. This was the chance, and in an hour-long presentation, young Howard captivated his audience and introduced a naming system for clouds, which is still in use today, 200 years on. This was what meteorology had been waiting for - a standard method of logging cloud formations. This was invaluable too for poets and writers, who suddenly found a new addition to their descriptive vocabulary. Small wonder that cirrus, cumulus and nimbus quickly entered everyday conversation (the Englishman's main topic being the weather). The book is very well written, giving us a feel for the social, political and philosophical climate in the Napoleonic era. By various pertinent descriptions of people and events directly and indirectly connected with Howard, we are introduced to some of the greats of the Age of Enlightenment; but none of it feels contrived or beside the point, nor is it ever boring. This is an enthralling read, illustrating how easily a single person or idea can change the direction and thrust of a science... Well worth reading.

The Man Who Named the Clouds:
"The Invention of Clouds" is an endearing little book about a generally forgotten moment in the history of science. It seems obvious to us today but until Englishman Luke Howard, a chemist with an interest in the then-young science of meteorology, gave a public lecture on cloud classification in London in 1802, nobody had been able to categorize cloud formations in an easily-understood and consistent manner. The terms we take for granted-cumulus, cirrus, stratus and so forth-were applied by the 30 year-old Howard for the first time. He drew upon his classical education to find suitable Latin names for what he termed "the modifications of clouds." He understood that clouds pass through stages and in his lecture he described the changes they underwent. His audience understood immediately the importance of his lecture and it was published soon afterwards to great acclaim. Luke Howard became famous throughout the world. It is clear that he must have viewed this with mixed feelings. As a modest Quaker, he did not seek celebrity but as a scientist he was undoubtedly proud of his accomplishment. It is a beautiful achievement. By naming that which was ever-present but unnamed, Luke Howard helped forge the language of meteorology and provided some of the most important tools for weather observation and forecasting. His Latin names speak to the universality of climate and his detractors, who felt that the classifications should have been in English, were soon silenced. The book describes the reaction of artists as well. On the one hand, there were those who believed that clouds, as objects of great natural beauty and a symbol of freedom, would lose something by being systematically classified, as if they were species of beetles, but others, including the painter Constable, used the classification of the clouds as a basis for their art. The great genius of the period, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, completely enchanted by Luke Howard's work and personality, dedicated a series of marvellous poems to him, with each stanza based on one of the new cloud-forms. But even having poetry dedicated to you by Goethe is not enough to claim enduring fame. Luke Howard seems to have lived a quiet existence, marked by some success in business and a happy family life. He died at the age of 91, remembered fondly by only his relatives. Richard Hamblyn, in writing this book, must have struggled to develop enough material as it appears that the lecture of 1802 was the high point of Luke Howard's scientific life and his attention was then taken up more by commerce and religious issues. Mr. Hamblyn gives us a history of the earlier attempts to define clouds, reaching back to Aristotle. He throws in the story of the Beaufort Wind Scale, which was inspired by but not as readily-accepted as Luke Howard's cloud system. He deals with the subsequent amendments to the cloud classifications and we learn of the International Meterological Conference and its winsomely-named Cloud Committee, which was to produce the International Cloud Atlas. All very interesting, but it is in the sections about Luke Howard and his contemporaries, fascinated by the rapid progress in science at the end of the 18th Century, where the book is most alive. Richard Hamblyn ably paints a picture of London's crowded lecture halls where science was popular culture, of dangerous experiments and fantastic personalities. Men of brilliant and adventurous minds, often denied higher education due to their religion, could look into the future and stake a claim. The author, in sharing Luke Howard's triumph with us, has written an elegant work brimming with enthusiasm.

Reading Atop Cloud Nine:
Luke Howard was an amateur in the true sense of the word; Luke Howard named the clouds for the love of them. Richard Hamblyn does a fine job telling the story of Luke Howard's life, his naming of the clouds, and Howard's milieu in the book The Invention Of Clouds. Howard, a Quaker and a pharmacist, went from unknown working man to celebrity when he presented his paper "On The Modifications Of Clouds" to the Askesian Society in London on a night in December of 1802. The paper had the right combination of insights, poetry, and luck to insure that the terms cirrus, stratus, cumulus, and nimbus (or derivatives) are still being used by meteorologists today. Hamblyn's weave of biography, history, art, and science was enjoyable to read and held together most of the time (Chapter 10: The Beaufort Scale was not as well connected to book as the rest of the material). The hardback is such a beautiful and unusual book, I shelved my copy, waited for the paperback to read it, and then donated the paperback to the high school library. I highly recommend The Invention Of Clouds to anyone with an interest in meteorology, history, Quakerism, or biography.

A look at how early 19th-century science worked:
This book takes you to England of around 1800, when a young amateur scientist managed to come up with the nomenclature we use to this day to classify clouds. The life of Luke Howard is fascinating in and of itself as he goes about his scientific and business dealings. The author also notes why Mr. Howard's system became the system used today, even though it was only one of several major attempts to classify clouds as meteorology became more systematic. The book covers its topic well and would be of interest to anyone interested in the history of meteorology or scientific inquiry.

A delightful, meandering account:
A sympathetic portrayal of a very admirable young scientist, "Invention" also conveys a sense of the popularization of scientific culture at the beginning of the 18th century. Hamblyn touches on the effects of the emergence of periodicals, societies of (nongentry) scientists, and even the postal system on this new culture. Diverse facts (half-kg hail and volcanic eruptions) balance the overall somewhat romantic tone. Hamblyn was obviously acutely aware of the tension between instrumented science and romantic arts; that is an explicit theme of the book as well as modulating his writing. My only complaints: too many long unnecessary quotes (Goethe!), tables not adequately explained (were Smeaton's data calculated as I think or measured as Hamblyn elliptically suggests?), and the seminal article by Howard was never really systematically discussed (just rather disconnected dribs and drabs).