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In Heart of Darkness, Jeremiah P. Ostriker and Simon Mitton add new stars to the constellation of astronomy to tell the subject鈥檚 full history

WE HAVE all heard of the Hubble Space Telescope, named after Edwin Hubble, but where is the Tinsley telescope?

Beatrice Tinsley was an excellent astronomer, but her career was stymied by an establishment set against giving a salary to the wife of an academic 鈥� even if she was also a gifted scientist. Tinsley made at least two vital contributions to our understanding of the universe鈥檚 history, but she had to divorce her husband and grant him custody of the children to get any recognition of her talents.

In Heart of Darkness, Jeremiah Ostriker and Simon Mitton explore modern cosmology while recasting what they term the 鈥渟imple linear parade of heroes鈥� of standard accounts. Among the uncelebrated stars of cosmology they discuss, Tinsley shines brightest, but there are others: Milton Humason, a poorly educated mule-driver and janitor who assisted Hubble in his observations, and Vesto Slipher, who, despite working in the shadow of a boss obsessed with finding evidence for Martian civilisations, made the first observations that told us about the expansion of the universe.

Why do some names last and others fade? As well as being a great astronomer, Hubble was a 鈥渟howman鈥�, and a 鈥渃omfortable celebrity鈥�, say Ostriker and Mitton. Tinsley, meanwhile, was diagnosed with cancer the year she finally made full professor (at Yale). She died four years later, aged 40. Like a supernova, she burned brightly but briefly. Hopefully, this thorough and inspiring book will secure her a place in cosmological history.

Not that Ostriker and Mitton鈥檚 book is focused solely on people 鈥� quite the opposite. Relatively few biographical details are given: it is their scientific contributions that are explored 鈥� and with aplomb.

This is a strong, confident book, easily one of the best guides to why cosmologists make the claims they do. Yet for all their redistribution of credit, the cosmology that the authors set out remains uncontroversial. It is the universe that began in a singularity, passed through a period of rapid inflation, and is now dominated by dark matter and dark energy. The state of our knowledge, they say, represents a 鈥渟tunning鈥� accomplishment.

This is the dilemma of modern cosmology: what counts as success? Summing up, Ostriker and Mitton simultaneously cite a 鈥減retty impressive list of successes鈥� while acknowledging that cosmology is 鈥減rofoundly incomplete鈥�. We don鈥檛 know what caused the inflation, what constitutes dark matter or what lies behind dark energy. In the end, the authors settle for a declaration that there鈥檚 plenty for future cosmologists to do.

If there is one flaw in this crystal clear book, it鈥檚 a lack of depth in the discussion of the dark side of the universe. It provides the book鈥檚 title and is supposed to account for 96 per cent of the universe, but is confined to two chapters towards the end. Alternatives to dark matter are dismissed in little more than a paragraph and compared to pre-Copernican efforts to keep the Earth at the centre of the cosmos. When many respected scientists support the continued search for alternatives, that seems somewhat disingenuous.

Were she still with us, Tinsley would no doubt argue that there are compelling reasons to believe in the existence of dark matter, but that there are good reasons to consider alternatives, too. Her unique contribution to cosmology was to persuade a dismissive establishment that galaxies change their properties over time. In so doing, she exposed a gaping hole in the cosmology of the 1970s. It was a supreme achievement, if unwelcome.

Clearly, if you want your name to go down in history (or onto a telescope) it鈥檚 better to be a showman than a troublemaker. But if the history of science teaches us anything, it鈥檚 that the troublemakers should be celebrated too.

鈥淚f you want your name to go down in history, it鈥檚 better to be a showman than a troublemaker鈥�