Astronomical
baloney often shows up unexpectedly. The
other night, I was watching the first show (the pilot) of “Warehouse 13,” a
SyFy Channel series now on DVD. In one scene, Pete, the hero, is gazing skyward
into the night sky in South Dakota and says something about seeing Leo, Cygnus,
and Sagittarius. According to the online
character profile, Pete “has extensive esoteric knowledge, including
popular culture and astronomy.”
Most viewers
probably didn’t know or care a fig about the constellations that Pete mentioned.
However, it came into my ears like hearing a novice attempting to play the
violin. Something was definitely off key.
So, I asked
myself: Is it actually possible to see Leo, Cygnus, and Sagittarius at the same
time? The answer is, not really.
Sagittarius
is a summer constellation that is located by looking southward. Leo is a spring
constellation that sets in the west by the time Sagittarius becomes fully visible.
And, the constellation Cygnus is found in the northern half of the sky.
Obviously the
writers were not intentionally making Pete look like one of those fakers who merely
pretends to know something about astronomy, or who was randomly name-dropping
constellations in a failed attempt to impress Myka. Because, if so, since she is the bookish one, having grown up
in a bookstore, she would have spotted his balderdash and immediately challenged
him. So, why did Pete name those three particular constellations? There is
nothing that logically or visually connects them.
I suspect
that it was the writers who were just randomly name-dropping constellations…. Just
think: they could have chosen Cygnus, Lyra, and Aquila, the three
constellations in the “Summer Triangle.” Or they could have name-dropped the
three bright stars of the Summer Triangle: Vega, Deneb, and Altair. At least those
names have logical and visual connections.
Astronomical baloney also popped up in Leif
Enger’s Peace Like a River, which I
reread recently. I expected better of this author who, for many years, was a
reporter and producer for Minnesota Public Radio.
The first
astronomical blunder Enger made was on page 117 when he wrote that as evening fell,
“Stars were appearing. Venus in the east.”
(Italics added.)
The immutable
astronomical facts are these: Any time that Venus is visible in the evening, it
is always seen in the west, never in the east. The only time that Venus can
appear in the east is in the morning.
The second
astronomical mistake Enger made was on page 224. Enger has Reuben seeing the
“blue disk” of either Venus or Jupiter in the South Dakota sky just after
midnight in the winter.
Two
problems. First of all, Jupiter does not appear to be blue; it looks more
yellowish.
Secondly, it
would be impossible to see Venus at midnight in the winter in South Dakota.
Perhaps south of the Arctic Circle in northern Alaska during the summer, you
might possibly see Venus at midnight, because Venus is found during the
twilight near the sun. This obviously could never happen in South Dakota in the
winter.
A suggestion
for Enger: The most noteworthy star in the winter skies suitable for
determining general direction would be Sirius (found in the southern half of
the night sky). Also, some easily spotted winter constellations can help with
direction: Orion and The Big Dipper. Traditionally, the Big Dipper and the North
Star/Polaris in the Little Dipper are used to establish the direction north. In
the early 1960s (the timeframe of the story), every kid in Minnesota knew that.
I knew that (I was there). Reuben, who was a kid from Minnesota, would have
known that.
For some
reason Enger seemed fixated on Venus: Two references to Venus – both of them
inexplicable nonsense. Astronomical baloney.
