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352 pages, Hardcover
Published June 18, 2020
Burke’s book on polymaths is no paean to the idealized renaissance man; although the book purports to survey the factors that both advantage and disadvantage polymaths in various eras, a certain skepticism seems to pervade his approach. In fairness, if his survey of polymaths throughout the ages is representative, some degree of skepticism is warranted; the number who, despite being considered well-read and broadly intelligent in their time, failed to produce lasting contributions is cautionary. Even famous names whose works do endure, like Da Vinci, have biographies littered with unfinished projects and half-begun enterprises, dreams which were never brought to fruition, just as we saw with Hooke. It is a fear I have for myself – not that I am so arrogant as to think my efforts worth being remembered four hundred years from now, but that I have not the time in my mortal span to complete all the projects and studies I should like to pursue.
Despite the subtitle referring to the book as a “cultural history,” The Polymath is more a survey book than it is a proper history. Most of the text is spent listing representative polymaths, divided into eras, and providing brief biographies for each, usually only a few paragraphs. Burke provides a little context and framing, and goes a little deeper on a few of the more impactful individuals, but a “little deeper” in this case means maybe a dozen paragraphs, at most. At some point, the various polymaths start to blur together. Furthermore, many of Burke’s later polymathic subjects are not what I would consider polymaths. Well, that may be unfair – they may constitute a type of polymath – but they are primarily critics, people who study a broad range of the so-called humanities and write reviews, critiques, and essays on a variety of topics. This is not what I think of when I think of the term “polymath” – one of my basic requirements for considering someone a polymath is practicing in both technical and nontechnical fields, like I do with my fiction writing and my astronautical engineering.
After reaching a few contemporary exemplars (who, as mentioned above, may or may not qualify in my personal definition), Burke turns to some rudimentary analysis of polymathy trends through history, discussing the conditions which tend to favor or disfavor polymaths, and the contributions which they make to human knowledge and understanding. This section, although analysis-based, is comparable to the rest of the book in being more a survey than an in-depth, scholarly treatment. Burke is supposedly something of a specialist in the study of the history of knowledge, but his writing does not reflect it – it is detailed, but not thoughtful. Despite the prolific endnotes with which the text is populated, The Polymath suffers from the fate of many nonfiction books written with appeal to a general audience in mind, being rather dilute and shallow in its treatment and approach compared to what I seek.
In fact, this book prompted me to a long-overdue reckoning with the “general readership” nonfiction books on my reading list. I’ve already begun sorting out the ones written by journalists or communicators, rather than by experts in the subject being addressed. Now, I wonder if I should, instead of adding these books to my reading list, find the key scholarly sources they reference and read those, instead. It can be difficult to tell the difference without reading the book sometimes, though, and there is a place for such treatments – I don’t always want to read three books on a subject anymore than I want to read a book lacking in depth and thoughtful analysis. Isn’t that the polymath’s trap? That I seek to spread my knowledge so thin that I worry over the time it would take to read those three books, as opposed to one, while simultaneously lamenting that the one book is of insufficient density? Perhaps we do spread ourselves too thin, but there is a role for polymaths in an age of specialization, and perhaps especially then. Burke doesn’t make it explicit, but his discussion of the polymath’s role in unifying knowledge and inventing new fields of study goes to the same notion we discussed in our post about innovation: it is in synthesizing a detailed knowledge of disparate subjects that innovation, as opposed to extrapolation, can be achieved.