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Books with a bridge engineer as the central character are few and far between, let alone those claiming to offer special insight, so this seemed like it might be especially interesting to a curious Pontist.
Max Eyth was himself a noted engineer (albeit a designer of agricultural machinery). He appears in the first person in the novel as the narrator of the story of the only barely fictitious "Enno Bridge". However, the main protagonist is one Harold Stoss, a German engineer whose mastery of structural theory is of great service to his employer, William Bruce, civil engineer for the North Flintshire Railway.
Bruce is the stand-in for the bold lead engineer Thomas Bouch, while Stoss's closest real-life counterpart is the Cambridge mathematician Allan Duncan Stewart, who carried out the calculations for the bridge's metalwork and later went on to assist Benjamin Baker in the design of the Forth Bridge.
In the first chapter, Eyth encounters Stoss, and a third German expat engineer, in lodgings in Manchester. As narrator, Eyth reports secondhand on his friend Stoss's experiences, receiving news of developments at the Enno Firth through occasional visits and letters. Only after the bridge is complete does Eyth travel to see it for himself.
All the secondhand reportage gives the book an oddly detached and uninvolving style. Most, if not all, the technical detail is an accurate account of the Tay Bridge story, with a series of bold engineering decisions paving the way for eventual catastrophe. Stoss becomes increasingly anxious about whether he has fulfilled his duties properly, particularly in regard to the treatment of wind load. Speaking of Bruce/Bouch's daughter, he comments that "she kissed me into a lower co-efficient of safety". His mingled joy and fear as he pushes the boundaries of design should be familiar to any engineer who has lain awake late at night pondering the risks associated with innovation.
The engineering is interspersed with plenty of incidental detail, but I still finished The Bridge Builder thinking it was rather unsatisfying. The distancing effect of the uninvolved narrator is the main issue, and the somewhat episodic nature of Eyth's intersections with events leave everything quite disjointed as well.
It would be interesting to see what a more contemporary writer would make of the Tay Bridge story. I can easily imagine it as a courtroom drama, focussing on the real-life debate on where to place the blame. However, although the Tay Bridge Court of Inquiry reached rather firm and unequivocal conclusions, history suggests that the bridge fell for a number of coincident reasons, which may be less suited to the imperatives of drama. A simple re-telling of events might be sufficient, particularly if it got closer to the heart of Bouch himself, who was both the hero and villain of events, with a tragic end.
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