The Elements: An Illustrated History of the Periodic Table

Even though my interest in science developed in my early teens, and even though my love of reading developed earlier, I didn’t read many books about science in my childhood. In fact, only two science books stand out in my memory: Nigel Calder’s The Key to the Universe: A Report on the New Physics (Penguin, 1978) and Jane Werner Watson and Rudolph F. Zallinger’s Dinosaurs and Other Prehistoric Reptiles (Paul Hamlyn, 1960).

Calder’s book, which I read soon after it came out, influenced my decision to study physics at university. Watson and Zallinger’s book made an earlier and different impression. The 10-year-old me was enthralled by Zallinger’s vivid and lively illustrations, such as the one above. Not only were the dinosaurs and other creatures depicted as they might have been, but so too were the plants and landscapes.

Those memorable books came to mind when I read—or, rather, dipped into—a book that Tess Woods of Newman Communications had sent me to review, Tom Jackson’s The Elements: An Illustrated History of the Periodic Table (Shelter Harbor Press, 2012). The book is one of three in the Ponderables series. The others, also written by Jackson, are about mathematics and astronomy.

The bulk of Elements consists of 100 short, chronologically arranged chapters. The first, “Stone Age Chemistry,” discusses fire, food, and cave paintings. The last covers the recently discovered Higgs boson. In between, Jackson tells the story of humankind’s gradually growing awareness of chemical science and its applications.

It’s a measure of Jackson’s skill that I couldn’t tell at what age group his book is aimed. Inquisitive high schoolers and adults alike will enjoy and learn from what’s inside. Despite my professional interest in science, I discovered something new from almost every chapter. Did you know that the first plastic polymer, Parkesine, was invented in 1856 by Alexander Parkes and that it found use, decades later, as celluloid film stock? Or that the Periodic Table’s resemblance to an upside-down game of Solitaire is not a coincidence? I didn’t.

But Elements is more than a collection of interesting facts. Much of chemistry is ultimately about the arrangement and rearrangement of electrons. As if to emphasize that point, Jackson weaves the history of electromagnetism into his story. Readers learn about the first batteries, electrolysis, Coulomb’s law, J. J. Thomson’s discovery of the electron, and other electromagnetic milestones. Radioactivity and quantum mechanics are also covered.

The book is also more than a history of past discoveries. Its penultimate section, “Imponderables,” outlines seven open questions in chemistry, including these three: Why is nature one-sided? Is bismuth radioactive? Does francium exist? The book’s effect on young readers, I hope, will be to inspire some of them to meet the continuing challenge of understanding the universe and its contents.

The book’s effect on older readers, I expect, will be to impress on them the sheer scale of scientific progress. No other human endeavor—not art, not literature, not politics, not even exploration—can match the immensity of science’s upward leap from making fire to discovering the Higgs.

Happy International Year of Chemistry!

Five days ago, I received a press release from the American Chemical Society touting the society’s participation in the International Year of Chemistry, which began on 1 January.

Without the ACS press release I doubt I’d have heard about IYC. Even though the year-long celebration is sponsored by the United Nations, even though ACS is the largest scientific society in the world, even though chemistry underlies so much of our everyday lives, chemistry rarely gets media attention in proportion to its importance.

It’s tempting to pin the blame for that neglect on newspaper editors, TV producers, and other media gatekeepers. They decide what science news you read, see, and hear. But the gatekeepers also compete with each other to deliver what they think you’re interested in. The habitual diet of astronomy, ecology, and medicine—rarely chemistry—served by the New York Times‘s weekly science section could reflect the paper’s own survey results and readership statistics. Chemistry isn’t popular.

My own interest in chemistry lay dormant for two decades. I studied the subject right through high school, but having chosen to pursue physics and then astrophysics, I didn’t give it much thought—even after I joined the staff of Physics Today and was obliged to look for stories across all the physical sciences.

What changed my mind was a visit in 2002 to a workshop on nanohybrid materials at the University of Chicago’s James Franck Institute. Like the institute itself, nanoscience is interdisciplinary. Biology, chemistry, engineering, materials science, and physics all contribute.

But it wasn’t chemistry’s participation in nanoscience that made me pay attention. Rather, it was chemistry’s particular role. One of the workshop speakers—I forget whom—outlined a theoretical scheme for making a functional material out of self-assembling nanoparticles. “But it won’t work,” I think he said, “until a smart chemist helps us find the right molecules.”

I do remember the name of the speaker, Xiaogang Peng of the University of Arkansas, who told the workshop attendees about the challenge of making nanotechnology friendly to the environment. Peng pointed out that one of the elements most often used to make quantum dots and other nanoparticles in the lab, cadmium, is extremely toxic. He and others are trying to find alternatives to cadmium.

Since the workshop, I’ve come to appreciate other aspects of chemistry, unlike some of my fellow science writers. Just this morning, I heard a news story on National Public Radio about the controversial use of chelation therapy to treat autistic children. According to standards arbiter ASTM International, chelating agents are

chemicals that form soluble, complex molecules with certain metal ions, inactivating the ions so that they cannot normally react with other elements or ions to produce precipitates or scale.

Unfortunately, the fascinating chemistry of chelation was missing from the NPR story. To the people who heard the story, chelants are just another drug that somehow works.

I hope IYC is successful in promoting chemistry. Then, the general public might want to learn more about the drugs, fuels, plastics, cleaners, and other chemicals in their lives. They might also want to know more about how chemical reactions on prebiotic Earth produced the first self-replicating molecules or how synthetic enzymes might one day produce cheap abundant fuel from plants.

And if IYC needs a booster, an anniversary in 2014 will provide a promotional opportunity: the centenary of the chemistry set.

Charles Day