This is another of many books I’ve had for ages that I finally got around to reading later than I should have. Having been a long time admirer of Kip Thorne’s work I was sure it’d be good. It was, of course, excellent. Kip Thorne is a theoretical physicist, one of the leading experts on general relativity’s applications to black holes and astrophysics. The book tells the story of how this field came to be, how it grew out of our evolving understanding of Einstein’s revolutionary impact on physics, and it brings to life the stories of dozens of the significant scientists around the world who were, and still are, involved.
I expected an enjoyable explanation of GR and black holes intended for the public, but did not expect it to be just as much, if not more, a history and a storytelling experience that conveys the excitement of doing theoretical physics research, the power of discovery, the thrill and challenge of tackling difficult problems.
Thorne starts by explaining the relevance of Einstein’s special and general relativity in a world that was understood in Newtonian terms. This revolutionary work and its phenomenal predictions, and even more phenomenal validations, would pave the way for the most productive century of physics the world had ever seen. Throughout the book, Thorne makes complex ideas simple, and the figures strewn throughout offer fantastic visual aids for almost every concept he breaks down into simplified, non-mathematical explanations.
Even early on we see a huge cast of important physicists, lest we mistakenly believe Einstein was the only one pumping out revolutionary ideas. His were the most vital and impactful, but alongside him and long after, others carried the torch, sometimes in different directions, and produced rapid, radical, and significant discoveries. World War II played a role in black hole research I was not previously aware of. With the nuclear weapon developments of the US, and later Russia, theoretical physics reached a place of sophistication and frightening power, as well as comprehension of new, never before seen things. This would have massive repercussions on the direction black hole research took over the next decades. The tensions between the US and Russia were not reflective of the relationship between US and Soviet theoretical physicists, who became colleagues over the seas, friendly competitors in a race no longer of weaponry but of understanding astrophysical phenomena. And they became collaborators on difficult problems.
Eventually, the US, Russia, and Britain dominate theoretical black hole and GR research. The prominent scientists from these nations comprise the main cast of the story. And because knowledge like this requires focused mentorship to begin, it may be no surprise that many of the most relevant scientists in this field go on to teach and train students who become the best in the field, and who then train the next generation of the best in the field, until we have a few small communities of somewhat incestuous but powerful theoretical physics researchers, who all know each other on a first name basis.
Thorne gives a lot of space to the interplay between scientists, like Chandrasekhar and Eddington’s disagreements about the fates of stars, or Einstein’s reluctance to believe the predictions that fall out of his own theories, because his intuitions differed from Schwarzschild’s discovery, which points to black holes. This pattern holds throughout the entire 20th century, with physicists disagreeing about critical pieces of theory, like Zwicky’s predictions about neutron stars meeting fierce resistance for not being rigorously argued, or the post-World War II era seeing Oppenheimer proving Landau wrong, or his battle with Wheeler over whether stellar implosion produces black holes. Or Thorne’s own bets and disagreements with Stephen Hawking. John Wheeler, by the way, probably wins the prize for producing both the highest quantity and quality of expert students to go on to shape the field (his student Robert Wald wrote the main text book from which I learned the mathematics of general relativity, but the Soviet theorist Lev Landau wrote maybe the most influential set of theoretical physics text books ever conceived, from which I also learned some GR), and also for shaping the field himself.
The satisfying thing about these episodes, and the dozens of other disagreements between high profile and high quality scientists, is that it illustrates the way science is done, particularly theoretical physics.
While giving plenty of space to these giants and their disagreements, he gives more space to their work, their background, who they are as people and scientists, and why their work matters. He fits it all into the wild and quickly changing world of theoretical general relativity research and black hole speculation. This aspect of the book is my favorite, because most of the physicists that star in this cosmic tapestry are legends to me, titans I learned about in college and graduate school. They’ve always been more than names to me, but they manifested mostly in their ideas and their contributions, the final products of their discoveries. Here, they are breathing people struggling against uphill challenges, unlikely odds, obscure concepts, unfamiliar territory, and the facts of their lives come into play, almost inevitably showing us something incredible. To me, most of the people in this book were already heroes, but now they’re heroes whose stories I know better.
Thorne untangles these dynamic scenes and noteworthy, high caliber science dramas while also taking the time to patiently explain the relevant physics concepts, like wave particle duality, the uncertainty principle, the curvature of spacetime, nuclear fusion, cosmic radio waves and synchrotron radiation, white dwarfs and neutron stars and supernovas, vacuum fluctuations, quantum foam, black hole evaporation, entropy, interferometry, hyperspace, worm holes, a hundred other things. He has a way with making highly mathematical and complicated ideas understandable for lay audiences.
He shows the revelations that experimental physics and observational astronomy brought to bear on theoretical astrophysics, and how these disciplines combined forces with relativity to pursue the holy grail of GR, finding the elusive black holes in our real universe. Thorne’s characterization of the Golden Age of gravitational physics research is one of epic intellectual successes and battles, an age of heroism. The novel methods devised by physicists to detect gravitational waves becomes the focus at one point, and Thorne discusses the development of these ideas and his own work with LIGO, the gravitational wave detector he helped devise and for which he would go on to win the Nobel Prize in 2017.
To give acknowledgment to the vast breadth of ideas or people Thorne discusses at length would take me too much time. Thorne is a modest man who, for the whole book, gives credit to everyone but himself, except toward the end. He outlines some of his insights and publications and his work, and I loved his reflections on solitude and its importance to his work, his lengthy calculations, his clarity of thought. But he gives far more attention to those who came before, to the exemplary physics minds of the 20th century who paved the way for others, and the others who came to mastery and thus paved the way for the future generations, and he shows over and over how each generation of physicists cooperated, competed, and struggled, to leave their followers with a more exciting, more challenging, and more profound set of questions and tools for understanding some of the most remarkable physical phenomena in the universe.