I can understand why Dava Sobel's "Longitude" was an absolute commercial smash: it made the stakes involved in finding an accurate way of measuring longitude clear to the reader and then, in language that might suit a thriller, set about describing the race to come up with a reliable solution to this problem. "Galileo's Daughter" is, in many ways, a more difficult proposition. It's longer, slower, and features the complete text of the letters that Suor Maria Celeste, Galileo's favorite daughter, wrote to him. While "Galileo's Daughter" is still a work of popular fiction — most of this won't be news to readers deeply invested in Renaissance history or the history of science — this one can sometimes be a struggle to read.

Which isn't to say that it doesn't have its charms. As a person who, shamefully enough, knew Galileo as the guy proved that a feather doesn't fall faster than a ball of lead and who insisted, after being convicted by the Catholic Church, that it yet moved, Sobel does a good job of explaining to readers exactly why Galileo's methods and ideas were so revolutionary. This is especially since he certainly wasn't the first to propose that the Sun, and not the Earth, was the center of our solar system, an idea that thinkers from Pythagoras to Aristarchus to Copernicus had, each in their own time, advocated for. The author makes it clear that in a age in which Aristotle's opinions trumped empirical observation both for the Catholic Church and for many scientists, Galileo's insistence on the paramount importance of observational and experimental science seems truly revolutionary. I came away from this book understanding exactly why Galileo's name is synonymous with scientific brilliance.

Of course, there are probably lots of books out there that will describe Galileo's place in the history of science to their readers. The real attraction of "Galileo's Daughter" — and the aspect of it that I enjoyed the most — was its meticulous description of life in seventeenth century Italy. Sobel's narrative encompasses numerous aspects of the Italy of Galileo's time, from its patronage system to its byzantine papal intrigues to its medical and agricultural practices to the complexity of family life during this period. Sobel, in other words, does a good job of describing the texture of this particular place at this particular time. Even if you aren't particularly interested in science — and, honestly, I prefer other subjects myself — this book's varied perspectives make it worth a read.

The real heart of this book, though, is the great man's relationship with his favorite daughter whose letters paint of a picture of a woman with a sharp mind who, despite living a highly restricted life as a cloistered nun took initiative and expressed her opinions where and when she could. Her letters will likely strike modern readers as too flowery, too self-abnegating, and too excessively deferential, but Suor Maria Celeste's love for her father — and for the God and the religious tradition to which she devoted her life— cannot be denied. Readers will also likely be appalled at the living conditions in the convent in which Maria Celeste lived. The food that the "Poor Clares" ate barely sustained them, their living conditions were wretched, and they worked, prayed, and observed their religious practice with such intensity that they hardly had a moment to themselves. Today, it would be easy to compare this sort of lifestyle to that of a cult. But Maria Celeste's love for her fellow sisters, for her God, and for her father shines through: she seems, during her life, to have achieved a sort of hard-won grace. This can also be seen in the many favors she did for her father and in the gifts that she gave him, from mending an sewing clothes and sheets to sending him his favorite foods. Galileo was, if you hadn't heard, very fond of candied fruits. In her letters, she constantly worries about his health and counsels him to take care of himself. While we do not have Galileo's half of this correspondence, their mutual affection is obvious. And this, in its way, is important. Even history's giants have personal lives, and "Galileo's Daughter" is, in a sense a portrait of the sort of emotionally sustaining relationship that everyone, even geniuses, need to make it through life. This one is perhaps too long and is far from an easy read, but it's recommended to those readers with a special interest in the more personal and cultural aspects of history. ( )

I think it is a little bit mis-named. This book has little to nothing to do with the daughter - her letters are simply guiding fill for the story of Gallileo himself. Even so - it was a pretty good book - strange blend of non-fiction and reporting. ( )

Don and I had each purchased a copy in print, but hadn't had time to read them, so after listening to Galileo: a Life, we decided it might be nice to follow that up with this, while it's fresh in our minds. We were right :-) This one started out focusing on Galileo, making us wonder if the use of the daughter's existence was just a gimmick to produce another book on Galileo, but no, there's much more information here about Maria Celeste than in the first, and by virtue of that, information we'd not gotten from the previous work about Galileo. There were episodes and details in the first book that this did not include, so we felt that both were worthwhile reads/listens. ( )

Described as a "memoir" on the cover, this book is based on the letters from Galileo's oldest daughter to him. The book's narrative contextualizes the letters within events in Galileo's career and broader historical events. It really explores the relationship between the two, which was carried out not just in letters but regular visits by Galileo to his cloistered daughter. Galileo's trial and house arrest put the burden of managing his estate on his daughter, but also physically affected them both. ( )

A readable and accurate account that can draw more readers into the cultural history of science, such as a number of students in my own classes. ( )