Book Reviews - Review 25

A fictionalised account of the life of Nicolas Copernicus, the first astronomer to present a heliocentric mathematical model of the planets' motions.

The novel does not trace all periods of Copernicus's life from start to finish, but zooms in on times that seem to have had particular significance in shaping his outlook and his character: notably, his student days in Italy, and his work as doctor to his uncle, the Bishop of Ermland in East Prussia. In both these places he is haunted by appearances of his unpleasant elder brother Andreas, who in constrast to Nicolas lives a full, if disreputable life, and despises Nicolas's commitment to the life of the mind.

The third part of the book sees a change in narrative form: Copernicus's protégé Rheticus describes his attempts to get Copernicus's work published before the latter dies. The final part describes Copernicus's thoughts and experiences as he lies on his death bed.

The novel creates a convincing picture of the world in the late middle ages, when life for common people was cheap, crime and disease were rife, and Europe was riven by the Christian schism. The characterisation came across as a little one-sided to me: few of the personalities create a very favourable impression on the reader, even Copernicus himself portrayed as aloof and rather unfeeling. I suppose one of the themes of the novel is the search for a life of the mind that rises above squalid reality, in which context the generally unsympathetic portrayal of human beings makes sense.

The main theme of the novel, however, is philosophical: whether it is possible for science to touch on the essence of the world, the "thing in itself", or whether outer forms are all we can know, unconnected to any core reality. Copernicus's reason for not wanting to publish is shown as being that he feels all his mathematics have got him no nearer to ultimate truth. Whether this is how Copernicus really felt, I don't know. I felt the philosophy, interesting though it was, sometimes was laid on a bit thick; and some of Banville's literary stunts, like including in 16th Century conversations direct quotations from future scientists and philosophers, were pretentious. Still, Banville was young when he wrote this book and one can forgive him a bit of posturing.

I found this an interesting novel, quite original in its execution and with many passages of descriptive power. I didn't know what to make of some parts of it - in particular, Rheticus's transparent embitteredness makes it clear we're not supposed to take his narrative at face value, but it was more than I could be bothered to do to work out exactly where he was deceiving himself.

The prose, throughout the novel, is poised, ornate and austere; it has a distinctly Irish rhetorical quality that is difficult to warm to, but that is often beautiful nonetheless.