An empire of ice Scott, Shackleton, and the heroic age of Antarctic science

An Empire of Ice provides an eye-opening account of the British Empire's involvement in science, especially the Royal Navy, beginning with Cook's voyage of 1768 and his first crossing of the Antarctic Circle. These activities culminated during the Victorian period and led to the "heroic age" of penetration of Antarctica (late 19th century through early 1920s). The dominating figures are Norwegian explorer Amundsen, and British explorers Scott and Shackleton. Writer/historian Larson (Pepperdine Univ.) provides the first detailed exposition of their contrasting personalities in the process of exhaustively examining their scientific contributions amidst the controversy of the polar journey. He explains that Amundsen had a single objective: to get there. Scott especially, but also Shackleton, and their colleagues, were the virtual founders of Antarctic science. This, once and for all, pushes aside the grossly distorted assaults on Scott's character characteristic of many publications, especially British, of the last 90 years. Extremely well written and documented, An Empire of Ice is a gripping account that reads almost like a thriller, demonstrating the explorers' well-known courage and persistence in the face of atrocious hardship. At the close of another International Polar Year, it demonstrates how international scientific cooperation in the world's coldest regions came to be established. Summing Up: Highly recommended. All academic, general, and professional readers. J. D. Ives emeritus, Carleton University

WITH the 100 th anniversary of the conquest of the South Pole coming this December, books about Antarctica will be everywhere this year. One of the first out of the gate is "An Empire of Ice," which looks at Antarctic exploration through the lens of science. Yes, many of the famous adventure tales are here, including the central one in which Roald Amundsen beats the less-prepared Robert Falcon Scott to the South Pole, and then Scott and his men perish on the way home. But to Edward J. Larson, a professor of history and law at Pepperdine University, the important thing about this story is not who arrived first at the pole, but who did the best field research along the way. And by this measure, Scott was the clear victor. "If the race to the South Pole eventually consumed Scott, it was never at the expense of science," Larson contends. Thanks to the expeditions of Scott and his rival, Ernest Shackleton, great advances were made in many scientific disciplines, from biology and geography to oceanography and terrestrial magnetism. Scientists who accompanied these explorers helped prove that Antarctica was a continent - not just a big ice cap like the Arctic - where plants and animals had once flourished. Members of Shackleton's Nimrod expedition reached the magnetic South Pole, while members of Scott's Terra Nova expedition did breakthrough research on emperor penguins, retrieving three eggs during a harrowing winter trip to a remote rookery. Amundsen, on the other hand, "did not even offer a pretense of science to mask his polar ambitions," Larson writes. The author, who won the 1998 Pulitzer Prize in history for "Summer for the Gods: The Scopes Trial and America's Continuing Debate Over Science and Religion," is a brilliant researcher. "An Empire of Ice" reflects exhaustive digging and reaches well beyond the standard source materials. Although many of the best-known stories of Antarctic exploration are retold here (frustratingly often very briefly), Larson provides enough fresh perspective that even devotees of polar literature will learn things. One gem is the story of Amundsen giving a speech to a hostile crowd at the Royal Geographical Society, which sponsored Scott's fatal expedition. Everyone knew that Amundsen had relied on sled dogs to reach the pole while Scott and his men had been manhauling, a grueling practice that the British considered far more ennobling. After a banquet supposedly to honor Amundsen's achievement, one of the resentful hosts, Lord Curzon, offered a withering toast: "Three cheers for the dogs." Rather than recounting the story of the race to the pole chronologically, Larson concentrates on various scientific disciplines (like meteorology, glaciology and paleontology) and elucidates the advances made by the polar explorers. All along, he points out the voguishness of science at the time, relating that news of the first upright-walking dinosaurs in 1841 turned "paleontology into a Victorian sensation," and that at about the same time, "terrestrial magnetism had become a fascination of the British." Furthermore, "geography was a cutthroat enterprise in late Victorian Britain," one that pressed the Antarctic expeditions forward. Larson delves into the smelly, filthy and uncomfortable business of Antarctic field work, showing, for example, Edward Wilson, an ornithologist and Scott's best friend, as he butchered seals and penguins for lab specimens. ("My word, skinned hard on till nearly 10:30 p.m.," Wilson wrote in his diary. "They had already begun to stink by the evening.") The central geological questions were clear: Was Antarctica a continent or an archipelago, and did it have a fossil record similar to those of other continents? Larson notes that the contributions of Shackleton (who comes across here, as always, as the more likable leader) and Scott helped find the answers, but he also gives credit to the men who did much of the actual work. One was Hartley Ferrar, a 22-year-old fresh out of Cambridge whom Scott hired at the last minute after an experienced geologist resigned. Ferrar "had spent more time playing sports in college than studying science," Larson says, and Scott called him "a conceited young ass." But Ferrar rose to the challenge, enduring a rough trip up a glacier to excavate some fossil-bearing sandstone. Despite a bout of snow blindness, he was able to collect specimens that would ultimately demonstrate Antarctica's links to other land masses. Larson covers a lot of ground - science, politics, history, adventure - and the book is dense at times, particularly when names and arcane bits of history tumble forth. But the rewards for reading about infighting at the Royal Geographical Society are the heroic tales of men like Victor Campbell, an officer with Scott who was stranded with his five men in an ice cave for the winter with almost nothing to eat but seal. ("We have been in the same clothes for nine months, carrying, cooking, and handling blubber," Campbell wrote. "In fact we are saturated to the skin with blubber.") The saga ends, as it must, with the death of Scott and four of his men, but Larson makes much of the fact that the party took the time to gather 35 pounds of fossils and rock samples from the Beardmore Glacier and carry them back - a sacrifice for science that may have cost them their lives. Historians like Roland Huntford have ridiculed Scott for decisions like this, but Larson sides with Scott's admirers, arguing that his shortcomings as a leader were outweighed by lasting scientific contributions. "Science," Larson writes, "gave meaning to the death of Scott and his men in a manner that a failed dash to the pole could not." Surveying during the Terra Nova expedition. Jennifer A. Kingson is a science editor at The Times.

Larson sees a problem requiring resolution in accounts of the great expeditions to the South Pole that culminated in Norwegian Roald Amundsen's triumph in 1911. He believes they overemphasize the competition to be first to 90-degrees south, relegating the expeditions' scientific achievements to secondary importance. His is not a watertight position, he tacitly admits, since Amundsen was all about polar primacy. But Larson proves his point by presenting three British projects undertaken from 1901 to 1912. Glory-seeking was not enough for British authorities to fund them. Arbiters like the Royal Geographic Society demanded scientific rationales, so expeditions led by Robert Scott and Ernest Shackleton included scientists. Their field research forms the body of Larson's text, which he organizes by discipline, for example, geology, a historical summary of which precedes recounting the considerable discoveries the scientists made in Antarctica. Larson succeeds in this approach to the popular subject of polar exploration by wrapping the science in plenty of dangerous drama to keep readers engaged.--Taylor, Gilber. Copyright 2010 Booklist

While the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration lasted from 1897-1922, Pulitzer-winner Larson (A Magnificent Catastrophe) focuses on the British Antarctic expeditions prior to World War I in his study of the era and its accomplishments. British explorers Robert Scott and Ernest Shackleton take center stage, joined by Norwegian Roald Amundsen, as Larson examines the numerous attempts to reach the South Pole, including Scott's tragic last journey and Amundsen's victory. Transcending those tales, he analyzes how these missions furthered science, dividing his narrative into various disciplines: from oceanography to geology, biology to magnetism, we see how these missions were as much about "how science gave meaning to adventure" as they were a "dash to the South Pole." While Scott's last expedition "came to stand for little more than relentless perseverance in the face of inevitable defeat," Larson skillfully details how these missions expanded knowledge of Antarctica across an array of fields, and how Scott sacrificed everything to bring home a few more specimens. The result is an insightful, accessible, enlightening account of an age when exploration "reflected the values of the Edwardian age: fitness and science mattered." b&w photos. Agent: B.G. Dilworth, B.G. Dilworth Agency. (Dec.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.