A ranging, erudite, and intimate examination of the nature of knowledge, by a thinker and creator who defies categorization.
Attention is in short supply and high demand. But when we bring our minds and time and senses to something—an idea, an object, another person—we tap into a human capacity for observation, patience, candor, and presence. Look long enough, and we can reliably catch a bright flash, a shift in the light, even a dawning.
In Till the Light Leaps, historian of science D. Graham Burnett explores the questions that have been major drivers of his intellectual life: How do we know what we know? And how are we changed by that effort? Written during a period of radical, collective, and creative experimentation with attention, the twenty-six essays collected here span topics like technology, science, art, and religion. Together, they comprise a sustained reflection on the relationship between empirical matters and the shiver-work of the human spirit. A brief history of spectroscopy offers an occasion to consider the solemn power of fire, as well as the righteous lessons of a childhood science experiment gone wrong. Skywriting invokes military might, but also the expressionistic bravura of a solo aeronaut, Art Smith. The Greek ritual of throwing plant matter in celebration is a thread connecting animal sacrifice, confetti production, and capitalist excess. In the final, previously unpublished essay, Galway Kinnell’s 1980 poem “Saint Francis and the Sow” becomes a heroic call to love and an allegory of attention in its richest sense.
Till the Light Leaps, a reference to the writings of Simone Weil, advises us to look at something “until the light leaps,” whether it yields a wink or an illumination. Burnett models the work—and the pleasure—of staying present with the world, and his essays test what science can offer, even as they feel for what it cannot.