I’ll recommend two books by Dava Sobell, Galileo’s Daughter and Longitude.
The former is a brilliant biography based on the letters Sister Marie Celeste wrote to her famous father over the course of her short life. (She chose her nun’s name to reflect Galileo’s interest in astronomy.) I think Galileo is one of the most important and influential men in history, and this very well written book depicts his devotion to science, his sincere belief in God, and his daughter’s love and concern for his well being as he becomes embroiled in the famous controversy with the Roman Catholic church.
If reading about Galileo inspires you as it did me, you should consider reading his works. Unlike most original scientific texts, by say, Newton, or other early scientists, Galileo’s were written for ordinary readers, not other scientists. Most are in the form of dialogs and include drama and humor and are generally very readable.
You might also consider reading the complete letters from Sister Marie Celeste, which Sobel translated and published in a separate volume. Marie Celeste, one of several illegitimate children Galileo fathered, was the only one he considered his intellectual equal, although she remained in a very poor monastery from age 16 until her death at age 34. Her letters are very touching, and I often found myself in tears while reading them. (Sadly, Galileo’s letters to her have been lost.)
Longitude is a fascinating look for the search, in the 18th century, for a method for determining a ship’s east-west position at sea. The problem was so important that the British government offered a prize of £20,000 (more than $4 million today) for its solution. Clocks of the day were not accurate enough even when stationary on dry land, and would barely function at all on the rolling deck of a ship at sea. Other methods were proposed, some merely impractical (ships anchored a few miles apart all the way across the ocean that would announce the time every hour by firing a cannon when they heard the shot from the one to their east that ultimately originated from land) to the truly bizarre (a wounded dog on a ship would supposedly yelp when its bandage was dipped in a magic powder on shore – see Powder of sympathy).
John Harrison, a provincial clockmaker, did what no scientist of the day – including Edmund Halley (of comet fame) – thought possible: build a clock that would remain accurate to within a second a month, even aboard a ship. He actually built four clocks over about 40 years and had to fight the scientific establishment to obtain the recognition and prize he deserved. And that only happened (in part) thanks to the intervention of the King.
It’s an amazing story, and it is mind boggling to realize, in these days when every phone can tell you precisely where you are and what time it was, what life was like when no one knew what time it was and small navigation errors could lead to the deaths of thousands of sailors.