J. Brit. Astron. Assoc., 106, 6, 1996, p. 346
Cambridge University Press, 1996. ISBN 0-521-48251-8 (hbk), 0-521-48390-5(pbk). Pp xxii + 277, £35.00 (hbk), £12.95 (pbk).
reviewed by Jocelyn Bell Burnell
This book was first published twelve years ago; pressure from those interested in the history of science and in women and science encouraged Cambridge University Press to do a second edition. Virginia Trimble has written an introduction for this version, but I detect no other changes.
The bulk of the book is Cecilia Payne–Gaposchkin's autobiography The dyer's hand, but also included are the original introduction by Jesse Greenstein, an historical introduction by Peggy Kidwell and a personal recollection by Katharine Haramundanis (Payne–Gaposchkin's daughter).
Virginia Trimble's introduction is splendid, and for me outshone Jesse Greenstein's. It is full of pithy, perceptive observations (including the comment that to this day editors consider that a book by a woman scientist has to be reviewed by another woman – ouch!). She usefully sets Payne–Gaposchkin's work in context and objectively demonstrates how exceptional a scientist we are considering.
I read the first edition when it came out. What issues strike me now as I reread the autobiography? The length of Payne–Gaposchkin's active, professional life, and when it fell (1923–1979) meant that she saw enormous changes. She was working before nuclear physics started, before the nature of external galaxies was recognised, and before the interstellar medium was discovered. By the end of her life she was using infrared and ultraviolet data, the latter from a satellite. Atomic physics burgeoned around her. She was not in the least dismayed or fazed by this explosion of knowledge, but took it completely in her stride and was part of the movement, always doing very timely, very new work. Would that we could all so consistently keep up with the times!
What else strikes me? Because she was a woman she had to struggle. A botanist aunt inspired her to be a scientist, but she had an uphill fight to get science education at school. She had other, more ladylike, talents including considerable musical ability. Gustav Holst, no less, taught music at her school and urged her (in vain) to become a musician. At Cambridge (UK) she received encouragement from the astronomy staff, but Rutherford scorned women students. England did not allow her a scientific life and so she went to Cambridge (US). Even here she was ineligible for many of the academic positions and for many years was (under)paid out of the equipment budget!
She did not receive fair treatment in her career, but this book is a testimony to her dogged persistence. She was the first into an area that previously was not accessible to women, and those of us who have followed after must acknowledge the cost to the trail-blazer.
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