Relying heavily on the physicist’s perspective, Arabatzis points his biographical lens at the most fecund period of electron change: the late 1890s to the mid 1920s. While the author features the likes of J. J. Thomson and Niels Bohr, chemists need not feel neglected, as there is a chapter dedicated to their electron work, however much they might wish otherwise. Chemists come out looking a bit worse for wear, thanks in large part to G. N. Lewis and his ill-fated cubic structure of the atom. But physicists don’t make it out unscathed either as it becomes clear that attributing the discovery of the electron so robustly to Thomson in 1897 is inappropriate.

This book is well-written and was a pleasure to read. Of the nine chapters, five are genuine historical, or biographical, accounts of some aspect of the theoretical representation of the electron: four focus on the physics story and one on the chemistry story. The clarity and depth of this portion of the book is notable, as so often histories of theoretical entities rush to the end of the story without dealing with the complex philosophical issue of change in the representation, which is Arabatzis’s task.

The four less historical chapters deal with the initial problem of changes in representation and meaning. After setting up the problem, Arabatzis evaluates the received philosophical view of meaning change for theoretical entities and discusses why we need biographies of theoretical entities. The final chapter presents the heart of his main argument for the historical, biographical view of meaning change for theoretical entities. Unfortunately, the arguments presented in the last chapter lack the depth and clarity of the biographies in the prior chapters.

Although Arabatzis’s solution has a nice commonsensical ring to it, I am not sure he has done enough to persuade the reader that a biography is enough to explain meaning change across theories. Arabatzis agrees that this biographical imagining of an electron isn’t enough to prove that electrons exist, but as much as Arabatzis would like to stand neutral, like Lady Justice, as to the ontological status of the electron, he is clearly yearning for the realist solution to triumph. It seems the author’s realist sympathies are partly responsible for his desire to construct an electron identity that is stable across different scientific theories. But determining whether he has succeeded or not in his argument is not my goal for this review, and I will leave it an open question as to whether or not the biographical approach works for electrons and more importantly other theoretical entities.

Although this is a book by a philosopher—for other philosophers—of the history of the philosophy of science, it has much to offer the scientist. I recommend it for those interested in the realism/anti-realism debate in the philosophy of science or in the history of the electron. In addition, several of the chapters would be useful as supplements in philosophy of science classes and even in philosophy of language classes. Those chemists or physicists who are interested in teaching about such philosophical problems in their courses will find it a valuable resource.