How Can Myths Help Us Understand the Stars? AO Wants to Know.

Not every scientist would have chosen to write the Milky Way as “its own person, telling us what it thinks,” says McTier. But for the astrophysicist and folklorist, fictional storytelling is a powerful tool for making real science accessible to all. “The book was dedicated to people who’ve been told they’re not ‘sciencey’ enough,” says McTier. “Everyone can understand these concepts, but we get introduced to them in weird, intimidating ways most of the time.”

McTier’s talking Milky Way echoes ancient myths that personify the stars and planets, with the twist of being anchored in modern scientific knowledge. As the first person to graduate from Harvard with a double major in astrophysics and folklore, McTier is uniquely positioned to tell these kinds of stories. After earning a Ph.D. in astronomy from Columbia University, she now lectures and consults on science and science fiction, including how to build your own fictional worlds.

McTier spoke with Atlas Obscura from her home in New York City about the power of storytelling and the surprising revelations that come from mixing mythology and science.

How did astronomy and folklore come together for you? Were you initially interested in them separately, or did you always want to explore how these two subjects intersect?

I was always very interested in mythology, but I didn’t realize it was something you could study or do professionally, so that was never a goal of mine. When I got to college, I really was just lost. I thought, Maybe physics, maybe chemistry? In my sophomore year, a friend wanted me to go with her to an astronomy class. The professor said we’d get free pizza if we signed up for the class, and free pizza every week as a broke college student is a lot. So I signed up. And by the end of the semester of learning about galaxies and the expansion of the universe, I was just hooked.

But I also lived across the street from [Harvard’s] Folklore and Mythology building. I would go to their events, and they would give me tea and cookies and cakes. I’m very food-motivated. I just fell in love with both [subjects], and I convinced both departments to let me double major. I found a way to make it work.

When it comes to folklore and astronomy, how does knowing about one enhance our understanding of the other?

I think you always have a better understanding of something when you can see it from multiple perspectives. Many myths are about the universe and space, because people [in the past] were asking questions about the most fundamental things, like “Why are we here?” and “Are we alone?”

Because I know how eclipses work, and how the Sun and the Moon and the Earth have to line up mathematically, I also understand how rare and how big of a deal it must have been to ancient people who didn’t have that [knowledge]. So I understand why they have so many myths about why eclipses happen, and they’ve tied it to their gods.

Do you have a favorite folktale about the stars?

My favorite story is by the Khoisan people from Southern Africa, about how the Milky Way was created. They say that, originally, there weren’t any stars in the sky at night. It was just darkness. Until one night, this little girl was trying to get home, and she threw some embers from a bonfire up into the sky to light her way. That became the path of the Milky Way, illuminating her way home.

Are there patterns across cultures in how people personify natural features of space like the Sun and Moon in their stories?

Across the world, in different religions—not every religion, but in a lot of the polytheistic ones—you’ll see patterns. They all have deities of childbirth, of agriculture, of thunder and rain. All of these things that are global elements of nature are going to also be global elements of folklore. But you’re going to see some differences that reflect the local region.

I often like to point out the difference between the Inca sun god, Inti, and the Japanese Shinto sun goddess, Amaterasu. Inti is a very angry, vengeful god, while Amaterasu is very nurturing. And I think that one of the big reasons for that difference is the fact that the sun seems different in those places. To the Inca in South America, the sun is very harsh. They recognize that it helps crops grow, but more often, it dehydrates people and gives them sunburn and things like that. Whereas in Japan, the climate is much more temperate.

The best part about learning folklore is that you get to see how [people in the past] related to the world around them, because they were always pulling from within themselves. Studying folklore has shown me these very cool differences, but also the strong ties that connect across all of humanity. You see things that are important to all of us. We all care about love. We all care about our children being healthy and happy. We all care about connecting to our ancestors and honoring them in different ways. And that’s really beautiful.

How did your book come about, and what led you to depict the Milky Way as a character?

In grad school, during what I called my “Year of Yes,” where I agreed to any science communication opportunity that came my way, a literary agent sent me an email. One of his other authors had seen me give a cool talk, and he asked if I’d ever consider writing a book. And I was like, “Oh, hell yeah, dude, let’s get together and talk about what it could be.” We discussed a few different ideas for topics, but we landed on something about the Milky Way. And then it was up to me to figure out what that book would look like.

I did my Ph.D. research on the Milky Way, studying different parts of it, seeing how stars and planets were different in different parts of the galaxy. I myself would personify it often. When I’m sitting there, I’m arguing with the Milky Way, like, “Why won’t you let me understand you better? I’m just trying to share your story!” And then, I was presented with this opportunity to share its story with a much wider audience than I could ever reach with my dissertation. So it just clicked for me.

When we sent [the manuscript] to editors, many of them thought it was a children’s book idea, and not something adults would enjoy. But I eventually found an editor who saw the vision, and that was really nice. It was important for me to find a team of people who didn’t want me to change it and understood what I was trying to do with it.

The book is meant to teach people while also entertaining them. I wanted [readers] to start seeing the galaxy as something that they could have a personal relationship with. And it’s much easier to get into that headspace if it’s a character that you can talk to.

What part of the story of the Milky Way were you most excited to share with readers?

I’m gonna cheat; I’m gonna give you two. I was really excited to teach people about the process of star formation. One of the weirdest concepts that I put into the book is that the Milky Way is just cooking up stellar experiments in a lab. I turned it into a conscious effort on the part of the galaxy that it’s making these stars. I don’t know why, but it just tickled me; I just loved building that part of the Milky Way’s personality and history out.

Another concept that I was really excited to share is that galaxies are moving, and they’re interacting with each other all the time. So incorporating the big, epic romance between the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies was really fun.

Do you still observe the stars as part of your work?

Actually, I have looked through telescopes for classes, and I’ve visited some very cool telescopes around the world through programs for astronomy educators, but I’ve never been a professional or hobby stargazer. As an astrophysicist, I would comb through archives of publicly available data online and analyze that.

What’s been your favorite telescope that you have visited?

Very interesting research is happening at the Blanco Telescope, on top of Cerro Tololo Inter-American Observatory in Chile. It’s where they’re doing the dark energy survey that’s trying to figure out the ultimate fate of our universe. But the real reason that was my favorite was because it was there that I saw my shadow cast by the Milky Way for the first time. It was a life-changing experience. There were no other lights around, and it was so bright that when I looked down, I saw a shadow. I didn’t realize it was possible! But when you’re in a dark enough place, the Milky Way’s lights are actually that bright.

That trip changed my philosophy as a science communicator. Before, I was very much about the data and the numbers, and giving people the hard facts about science. Afterwards, I was much more into trying to convey the feelings that people have about the universe, and how what I tell people integrates into their actual lives.

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.