posted on 25 Apr 2022

Kepler by John Banville

Johannes Kepler (1571 – 1630) was one of the key thinkers of the 17th century Scientific Revolution and a man with a truly awesome range of interests – scientist,  astronomer, mathematician, musician and, in an age when it was thought a legitimate field of study, astrologer. The bare facts of his life, his work and his influence places him at the centre of European learning and his extraordinary network of collaborators and patrons seems to suggest a life of influence and relative security.

But, of course, such historical ‘facts’ are always a two-dimensional sketch of a man who was subject to the ebb and flow of 17th century life, illness, religion, death and politics. John Banville’s fictionalised biography of the man paints a somewhat uncertain, rather depressive man who, although certain of his own genius, felt hard-done-by in a world he felt was always conspiring to make his life as uncomfortable as possible.

Banville achieves the remarkable feat of finding a way to blend the scientific breakthroughs and insights with the story of a domestic life that had little pleasure for him and a professional life in which he felt he was always fighting for recognition. Add to this mix a good dollop of religious persecution – he was a Lutheran in a world where Catholicism still held most of the trump cards – and you have a rich mix.

Although Kepler is written quite early in his career – 1976 – many of the characteristics of Banville’s later writing are there. The prose is dense and evocative, forcing the reader to move along at a pace dictated by the author and it’s not plot but character development that drives the book forward. But although I know life was astonishingly brutal and short in the 17th century, the overwhelming atmosphere of the novel is dark and pretty miserable. This is, of course, a reflection of the way Banville sees Kepler’s personality – his capacity to carp, whinge and be offended is seemingly bottomless. He’s a man capable of being almost epically self-centred and even when he’s presented with a marriage that should solve most of his financial problems, he contrives to turn it into a series of conflicts and stand-offs with his father-in-law.

History books will tell you that Kepler spent time as an assistant to the Danish astronomer, Tycho Brahe who was working at the time in Prague and gave him and his family a place to live when he was exiled from his home town of Linz. Brahe’s reputation really rests on two things – a set of astonishingly detailed observations relating to the movements of the known planets and the fact that he had a metal, artificial nose. I’ve personally always been most intrigued by the latter fact. Banville however really brings the egomaniacal Dane to life and the portion of the book that deals with the always tetchy relationship between the two scientists is, in my view, the very best part of the book.

Banville is always a clever writer when it comes to structure and Kepler is no exception. Russell McCormmach writing for the New York Times in 1983, notes the complex shape of the novel:

“Within these episodes, Mr. Banville vividly evokes details of 17th century society. He also fills in much of the rest of Kepler's life, but he does not do so systematically, as the reader soon learns when he confronts seeming contradictions and large gaps and reversals in time. This scrambling of events serves a literary purpose; it allows Mr. Banville to depart from the techniques of the biographer and the writer of popular fictional biography. Drawing an analogy with Kepler's cosmos, he organizes the book as a series of orbital motions by Kepler through repeated way stations - Graz, Prague, Linz and a few other places. Kepler's motions, forward and retrograde, are bound to centers of influence, much as the motions of the planets are bound to the sun.”

Banville’s interest in the key figures of the 17th century Scientific Revolution had in fact kicked off with his previous book – Doctor Copernicus – and in 1982 his third book on a similar theme, The Newton Letter completed what has become known as The Revolution Trilogy. All of the books can be read as free-standing, individual novels – so if you’re a bit daunted by the thought of a trilogy, you can take them at your own pace.

Affordable paperback editions of all the books mentioned here are easily found but you’ll pay substantially more for the hardbacks.

 

Terry Potter

April 2022