Black holes, gravity wells and... beer?

A black hole. Event Horizon Telescope image, courtesy National Science Foundation.


© 2019 Timothy R. Gaffney

Astronomers made headlines last week when they released the first-ever picture of a black hole—an unimaginably weird place with a gravitational field so strong nothing that falls into it can escape—not even light.

What does that have to do with beer? Um, well, nothing. But, strangely enough, it has a lot to do with my book.

One way to think of a black hole and its gravitational field is as a hole in the bottom of a funnel-shaped well—a gravity well.

“Gravity well” was a term I learned as a teen when I read Arthur C. Clarke’s The Promise of Space—a non-fiction book the great science fiction writer published in 1968 as a kind of companion to his novel (and the film) 2001: A Space Odyssey. Every planet, moon and chunk of rock has its own “gravity well,” where its gravitational field can influence other objects.

The concept popped back into my mind in 2017 as I was trying to map out the area to cover in my book.

My publisher wanted the title to be “Dayton Beer,” following the style of its other books about brewing history in cities across the United States. It begged the question: What’s Dayton?

It wouldn’t make sense to write a book that only examined brewing history within Dayton’s corporate boundaries. City limits have little to do with how people live or what we consider local. More to the point, where was the potential audience for this book?

I reasoned it was in places where local craft breweries were thriving. If people like local beer, they just might want to learn a little about their local beer history. So, I decided “Dayton Beer” would encompass a region. Fine, but… what region?

For help, I turned to Google Maps and searched for breweries near Dayton.




A pattern immediately appeared. Numerous breweries surrounded Dayton like satellites orbiting a planet. Crooked Handle Brewing in Springboro seemed to define the southern edge of this region, while Hairless Hare marked the northern edge. Devil Wind in Xenia and Yellow Springs Brewery formed an eastern boundary in Greene County.

But I knew Google Maps wasn’t showing me every brewery. I turned to the Ohio Craft Brewers Association’s website. There, a map of craft breweries gave me a clearer picture. It showed a pattern of craft breweries gathered in clusters around metropolitan areas.

The clusters looked familiar. They looked like… yes, gravity wells. Dayton had its own distinct gravity well of breweries. Mother Stewart’s and Pinups and Pints in Clark County were off to the northeast, but closer to Dayton than anywhere else. The same was true of Moeller Brew Barn and Tailspin Brewing Co., far to the northwest in Mercer County.

This pattern made sense to me. It reflected the historical pattern of breweries that appeared as settlers moved up the Miami Valley and built communities. It also—I hoped—showed me where I would be likely to find the most readers. (The valley extends down to Cincinnati, of course, but its brewing history is already the subject of several books.)

So, this is the area you will find covered in Dayton Beer. And it’s why I added the subtitle, “A History of Brewing in the Miami Valley.”

Was I right? Will my book find its proper orbit in Dayton’s gravity well? Or will it spiral irreversibly into the proverbial black hole of literature?

Maybe I should get some expert advice. Hey, HAL… can I buy you a beer?

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