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Promethean Ambitions: Alchemy and the quest to perfect nature by William Newman, University of Chicago Press, $30, ISBN 0226577120

TODAY鈥橲 tabloid fears about bio-engineering and 鈥淔rankenstein science鈥� have an obvious Faustian dimension. The alchemist who acquires forbidden knowledge destroys himself and imperils the world, so watch out, Monsanto. But is alchemy鈥檚 legacy really so lurid or trivial? In Promethean Ambitions, historian William Newman argues that alchemy has set the terms for our whole understanding of the relationship between nature and technology.

He traces alchemy鈥檚 rise from a decorative workshop tradition to a 鈥減erfective art鈥� like medicine; a sort of medicine for matter. Since medicine was not demonstrably any more successful than alchemy at delivering on its promise to perfect nature, it is surprising that when it was adopted by the academies, alchemy was left on the margins. With close attention to historical and textual detail that is never less than engaging, Newman unpicks the historical accidents and political machinations that led to alchemy鈥檚 marginalisation, bringing sympathy, wit and imagination to his account.

Long before microscopy enabled us to understand natural processes better, alchemy struggled towards a rational view of an apparently topsy-turvy world. Alchemy was never a magical discipline. The popular misconception that it was emerged largely because alchemy was used to test demonological ideas 鈥� themselves a pre-Newtonian way of explaining causation. So much for Faust. Newman shows how, on the contrary, the empiricism of Bacon and Boyle emerged naturally and unproblematically from the alchemical tradition.

But I found Newman鈥檚 claims for the topicality of his subject a tad specious. He shows how our most pressing ethical questions about biotechnology were asked long ago in an alchemical context. He concludes that the debates of that period must therefore 鈥渦nderlie鈥� (whatever that means) the debates of our own time. May we not as easily resuscitate the profoundly unfashionable possibility that humans everywhere ask the same few questions over and over; that these questions, indeed, comprise (deep breath here) the human condition?

Dare we disturb the universe?