Steven Johnson Gives Joseph Priestley His Propers

Sometimes book readings are news because of the book; sometimes because of the author. With Steven Johnson, you get both. He's in town for a few days on his book tour for The Invention of Air: at Elliott Bay Book Company on Sunday, at 3 p.m.; Town Hall on Monday, 7:30 p.m., and holding court at a "Words & Wine" event at the Pan Pacific Hotel on Tuesday at 6:30 p.m.

Johnson is as well known for his online associations (Wired, FEED, Plastic) as his best-selling books (Everything Bad Is Good for You, The Ghost Map), so Microsoft is having him across the lake for a talk on campus on Tuesday.

It's possible you have vague recollections of the name Joseph Priestley from high school chemistry class. A philosopher of sorts and a theologian, Priestley experimented like a man possessed for most of his adult life. One of his more profound "discoveries" was not simply that air is a mixture of gases, but how the mixture is created, what with animals exhaling carbon dioxide and plants huffing the CO2. Early on, you get accustomed to Johnson's mad research skills and how he has tracked down Benjamin Franklin's response to Priestley's letter with his findings. Between the two of them, they're hatching ecosystem theory while complaining how slow the sea-going mail is.

But Johnson has more in mind than rescuing Priestley from the oblivion of being a guy who discovered things we now consider so basic it's hard to imagine when we didn't know it. Alexey Pajitnov being another great example.

What makes Johnson's book fascinating is how he tracks the ecosystem of Priestley's ideas--born in the loamy economic sediment of the English class system (a precocious Priestley was foisted off an wealthy aunt and uncle so he could get a better education), given a boost by caffeine and social clubs and thrice-daily London mail, fired by competition with the French, and given a hybrid vigor in the American colonies, with their wacky political ideas. This 1.0 version of "information wants to be progressive" that Priestley and his compatriots espoused of course ran into resistance from the "we like the apple cart the way it is" crowd. At the height of his fame, Priestley was chased to America by what looked very much like peasants with torches and pitchforks.