Gravity’s Engines is a book of two parts. The first part provides a thorough and workmanlike account of black holes -- the “engines” of the title -- for the non-scientist. Although there are several other books around which set out to cover much the same ground, there is always room for another, and this one has the advantage (for the time being at least) of being the most up to date.
Of course, there is no point in being up to date unless the story is told accurately, and Caleb Scharf, who is Director of Columbia University’s Astrobiology Center, clearly knows his stuff. The extra ingredient be adds to the mix is his interest in the origin of life in the Universe, and the role that black holes have played in creating conditions suitable for life. This is the theme of the second part of the book, which becomes the narrative of a personal drama as Scharf describes his own research and the combination of serendipity and hard work which has made it possible to establish those links. This lifts Gravity’s Engines well out of the rut, and leaves most of its competitors trailing in its wake.
This is not to say that Scharf neglects his history. I was delighted to see John Michell, the eighteenth century (yes! eighteenth century) father of black hole theory given his due credit, along with the twentieth century pioneers who rediscovered black holes in the context of Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity. Even in this part of the book, the mind-boggling nature of the Universe is brought home with such insights as the fact that the space between a star like the Sun and its nearest neighbour is 30 million times the diameter of the Sun itself, and that there are 10 billion stars in the Universe for every human being who has ever walked the Earth. Closer to home, the role of gravity as an energy “engine” is neatly highlighted by a discussion of how the Hoover Dam converts gravitational energy into electric power. “Cosmic equivalents of the Hoover Dam,” says Scharf, “involve a whole different order of physics that builds on these terrestrial examples,” and then he goes on to explain that whole different order of physics.
Scharf really gets into his stride when he tells the story of the supermassive black holes that lurk at the hearts of many, if not all, galaxies, including our own Milky Way. “Our” black hole is relatively small -- “only” four million times as massive as the Sun. Other galaxies, including our near neighbour in Andromeda, contain black holes hundreds of times more massive even than this. Matter falling in to such objects swirls around and atoms rub together, generating heat “like spinning a stick against another piece of wood to start a fire”, but in this case producing enough heat to make the material radiate across the electromagnetic spectrum, including X-rays and gamma rays. Magnetic fields in this swirling mass are twisted into a kind of “magnetic spaghetti”, and electrically charged particles squirt out through this spaghetti at nearly the speed of light, blasting out into the Universe across thousands of light years. All this activity occurs early in the life of a galaxy, before it settles down into a quiet middle age. This youthful activity, though, profoundly affects the formation of stars in the galaxy itself -- and beyond. Some galaxies contain black holes with billions of times the mass of the Sun, occupying a volume no bigger across than the orbit of Neptune around our Solar System, but extending their influence through a cosmic bubble 30 million light years across.
The story of how we know all this is told through Scharf’s personal experience, based on research using data from successive generations of space observatories probing the Universe with X-ray telescopes, and observations from the largest terrestrial telescopes. He tells a fascinating tale of how, as is so often the case in science, he stumbled into black hole research while looking for something else, and provides insight into the collaborative nature of modern scientific research. But the most stunning insight is into the way modern astronomers extract maximum information from minimum data. One of the key discoveries in the black hole story came from an analysis of just150 photons (particles of light) that had spent 12 billion years on their way across the cosmos to us.
So where does life come in to the story? Scharf makes a persuasive case that galaxies which harbour the largest black holes are just too dangerous for life, since repeated outbursts from the central “engine” will sterilise them. On the other hand, modest black hole activity can stir things up and encourage the formation of the kind of elements (carbon, oxygen and so on) that are essential for life as we know it. The Milky Way, he says, is “smack dab in the sweet spot of supermassive black hole activity”. “That we live in a large spiral galaxy with very little central stellar bulge and a modest central black hole may be a clue to the type of galaxies best suited to life”. In fact, my own research suggests that our Milky Way galaxy is not particularly large, but a rather average spiral; but if anything that makes it more likely that life exists elsewhere in the Universe. Whether there is intelligent life, though, is, of course, another matter.
I very much enjoyed reading Gravity’s Engines. Even on the rare occasions where I disagreed with the author, his ideas made me think. One quibble. The text is badly let down by the inferior illustrations. But this is still an excellent book.
This review first appeared in the Wall Street Journal