The Fellowship (New York: The Overlook Press, 2008). ISBN: 978-1-59020-026-1 (PB). 22 B&W illustrations, xiv + 336pp.

Abstract

206 BOOK REVIEWS also explain some of the negative perceptions of midwives that have been carried through the historiography. Despite these criticisms, Evenden’s work is an inspiring reconstruction of the stories of seventeenth-century London midwives. The strength of this work is its extensive use of archival material, the generosity with which Evenden provides her research, and how her work has formed a solid basis for future studies into early modern midwives. Further lines of inquiry might include a broadening of the timeframe and geographical location to include the British Isles during the early modern period, and an analysis of the role of gender and space on midwifery. It is now up to others to build upon this work, and do so with the same enthusiasm for extensive research and women’s roles in medical history. MICHELINE ASTLEY–BODEN UNIVERSITY OF QUEENSLAND John Gribbin, The Fellowship (New York: The Overlook Press, 2008). ISBN: 978-1-59020-026-1 (PB). 22 B&W illustrations, xiv + 336pp. Maybe it is human nature not to want to lose a good story in the details, but sometimes things are too neat, too clean, and too simple to be true. In The Fellowship, John Gribbin attempts a popular history of the Royal Society and its place in the ‘Scientific Revolution.’ Gribbin is a scientist by training and a prolific author, perhaps best known for his seminal In Search of Schrödinger’s Cat, which popularised quantum physics. This scientific background gives his impressions of the early history of the Royal Society an interesting slant, and one that is to be cautiously welcomed. Gribbin’s writing is lucid and entertaining, telling stories that bring the age to life with excitement, and successfully reflect his aim to appeal to a wide non-academic audience. However, The Fellowship is not without some serious issues. The complexities and unknowns inherent in the writing of history have been streamlined and the rough edges smoothed off. Gribbin’s interaction with academic scholarship regarding Health & History ● 14/1 ● 2012 207 the history of the Royal Society is frustratingly inconsistent, and some of his arguments are at best ill-informed and at worst, severely mishandled. TheFellowshipenterssomewhatnaivelyintotheincreasingly messy historiography of the Royal Society and the ‘Scientific Revolution.’ Gribbin presents a more or less standard account of the breakdown of the Aristotelian world-view and its gradual replacement by the new experimental natural philosophy, which would eventually become what we now know as science. He places the Royal Society front and centre of this narrative, as the culmination and even ‘heart’ of the ‘Scientific Revolution.’ He touches on all the key players, from Galileo to Newton, while correctly giving prominence to those figures such as Robert Hooke and Edmond Halley whose roles have been revised in recentdecades.Atroublingsenseofinevitabilityisomnipresentin Gribbin’s tale, as well as an inappropriate sense of satisfaction— Gribbin clearly identifies with the modern scientific method and sees the story of its rise as a linear, triumphal affair. Gribbin’s engagement with the—admittedly sometimes bombastic and pedantic—academic debates regarding the Royal Society’s history (that began particularly in the late 1960s) is inconsistent. At times, Gribbin shows little awareness of the scholarship. He bases his arguments regarding the Oxford/London precursors to the Royal Society solely on Margery Purver’s heavily criticised Royal Society: Concept and Creation. Gribbin shows no indication that he is even aware of the controversial nature of Purver’s book, or the more modern scholarship of Michael Hunter and others that has largely superseded it. In other areas, Gribbin’s sensitivity to the historiography is greater, such as in his recognition of the complex role of Francis Bacon in the intellectual origins of the Royal Society. Gribbin structures his book as a series of overlapping historical biographies of key figures in the Royal Society, such as Francis Bacon, Robert Hooke, and Isaac Newton. These are typical of popular biographies, complete with childhood incidents that would inspire the adult selves and narrative arcs that, while entertaining, cannot help but reduce their protagonists to historical caricatures. Indeed, broad generalisations are de rigueur: ‘but Newton wouldn’t have been Newton if he wasn’t rowing with somebody’ (p. 268). This tendency to...