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Bill Bryson’s latest offering “A short history of nearly everything” was a book I’d stayed clear of until last week. I’m not quite sure why, but I suppose I thought that Bryson’s enjoyable travelogue narrative wouldn’t work at all well in a serious book about science, scientists, and our place in the universe.

I was very wrong. I’d picked the book up at Heathrow, and flicked through it in more detail than I had before, and it was clear that Bryson has put together something to take seriously. So, I started it almost immediately, and from the outset, I enjoyed his ability to put into easy language much that is otherwise impenetrable. Take almost any other science book, even so-called ‘mass market’ science books, and it can often rapidly loose all but the most determined of readers.

Bryson seems to achieve this through a friendly, shared-interest style. It feels like he’s accompanying you on this journey of discovery, and you benefit from his quips and light-hearted comments throughout to put things into perspective. Even the most detailed of subjects, such as current particle physics concepts, are clearly presented. No complex equations, no difficult concepts. Even the difficult matter of scale (both large and small) is presented in understandable ways.

It’s also a very amusing demonstration that scientists really are an odd bunch. He draws much delight in painting a picture of a scientist or researcher, and then pointing out some of their more curious traits. A particularly bizarre example given is that of Richard Owen, founder of the Natural History Museum in London. This man is painted both as a serious scientist, but also a man with a seriously worrying and vindictive approach to much that he did, particularly to poor old Gideon Mantell. I’ll leave the detail to Bryson, but it’s one of the most vindictive stories I think I’ve heard.

Bryson’s treatment of all that he covers is respectful and enthusiastic. His fluent style shows he must have taken in much that he learnt, despite claiming in the acknowledgements that he asked “I’m sorry, but can you explain that again” countless times of many esteemed people.

The book leaves you with a particular feeling that human life on this fragile rock really is a bizarrely lucky occurrence, and so many factors have contributed by fortune to the way we are, and the environment we experience. It makes you appreciate what we have, and how precarious our existence is, not only in terms of what we’re doing to the environment, but how kind the environment is currently being to us.

This book is a rare thing: An enjoyable, but satisfyingly detailed, overview of current scientific thinking, and the history of science. I particularly enjoyed this latter aspect, as it paints scientists as interesting rather than studious people, worthy of interest and with stories to tell.

A short history of nearly everything is a superb book, that readers of all backgrounds will enjoy, whether you like Bill Bryson’s travel books or not. It’s un-condescending style, and enthusiasm for science and science history, makes this a must-read by anybody interested in the sciences.

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