Martin Gardner. The Colossal Book of Mathematics (2001)

     Martin Gardner. The Colossal Book of Mathematics (2001) Probably the final collection of Gardner’s Scientific American columns, with addenda reporting on reader response and new developments in the math discussed. These columns describe and discuss more than set problems. They range over the whole of mathematics as she is now known. Martin is not only an excellent explainer, he is also knows the difference between hypothesis and speculation, both of which show up when math is applied to the real world. I could follow most of it.
     Two people I know were mentioned: Leo Moser, who taught Marie math at U of A; and Bas van Fraassen, one of the group of grad students who produced the U of A literary magazine (which we renamed from Stet to March , because it always came out in March); and hung around together. Bas has apparently made a name for himself as a “young philosopher” at U of T. I’ll have to google him. -- Anyhow, this is another keeper, a book that will be a pleasure to reread (in parts, not all at once.) ***
     Addendum: I found Bas’s website, and read a book by him (see below). He now has tenure at Harvard, likes mountaineering and cats (although he doesn’t have one), and seems to be concerned with making theology respectable. I’ll contact him, and see whether he’s willing to re-establish a connection. (2005)

Dubeck et al Fantastic Voyages (2004)

     Dubeck et al Fantastic Voyages (2004) This textbook bills itself as teaching science via SF films. It’s aimed at first year non-science majors in US colleges, and has the great merit of being written in mostly clear language. Occasionally, terms are used without explanation; I suppose the instructor will take care of that. Occasionally also, the need to write simply results in statements that are misleading and even false. For example, the authors claim that evolution leads to ever more complex organisms because more complex organisms are more successful, which is patently false. If it were true, the simple bacteria and protists would not have survived for billions of years.
     The discussion of The Andromeda Strain illustrates both the strengths and weaknesses of the authors’ approach. They claim that the Andromeda strain is not life as we know it, which is correct. However, they could have used the movie as an opportunity to consider the problem of definition. Life is defined in two ways. First, life is characterised by its behaviour (e.g., it utilises external energy to grow and reproduce, and reacts to external stimuli as either friendly or hostile to its existence). The second definition describes its content and structure (its chemistry is carbon-based, it consists of a cell whose covering protects it from the external world, it consists of a number of internal structures that carry out the life processes, and it can consist of any number of cells specialised to carry out one of the organism’s life processes). The fact that the Andromeda strain doesn’t have the chemical or physical structure of terrestrial life should raise questions about the sufficiency and meaning of these definitions, and the question of definition or conceptualisation generally.
     There are three sections, the first an overview of several general science topics, each including brief discussions of one or more relevant movies. Section two describes a number of SF movies and adds “literary commentaries”, which provide some background and comparisons to the source text (when there is one.) The last section summarises a number of movies without further commentary. The movies seem to be chosen partly with an eye on what the incoming freshmen have mostly likely seen, or what’s available at the video store, and partly as examples of both correct and incorrect science in SF.
     One of the authors is a professor of English Literature: it looks like she did the actual writing, and the other two contributed the knowledge and the organisation. Since the book is in a 2nd edition, it must have been successful, but I’d be wary of using it. It could have been done better -- the series of books beginning with The Physics of Star Trek are in my opinion better done. They are more precise in their explanations, and just as clear. This book would work as a reference in a Canadian senior high school science course. It could have a more complete listing of SF movies, but I suppose space/cost constraints govern such matters. ** (2005)

Ronald Blythe. The View in Winter (1979)

 

     Ronald Blythe. The View in Winter (1979) Blythe interviewed a number of elderly and some of their caregivers, edited the answers into coherent narratives, and connected them with comments of his own. As one might expect, old people have varying views about the ending of their lives, the possibility of an afterlife, and what purposes they might still fulfill in the winter of their days. But most of them are cheerful in their acceptance of the disabilities of age, and have few if any regrets about the lives they lived. The worst thing seems to be feelings of uselessness, but few of them suffer from these. An odd mixture of hope and realism that is quite comforting. *** (2005)

Jeff Wilson. Basic Structure Modelling (2005)

     Jeff Wilson. Basic Structure Modelling (2005) An excellent introduction to the craft, written by a man who knows his stuff. The only flaw is the separation of too many text references from the relevant photos. Formatting each chapter as a series of extended captions to the photos would have worked better. Apart from that, the sequence is logical and clear, starting with simple projects, and treating items such as roofs, doors and windows, signs, and painting in depth. A listing of manufacturers at the end directs the reader to sources of kits and supplies. Now, if Wilson will do a similar book on kitbashing, the beginner should have no problems at all filling up the layout’s empty real estate. *** (2005)

Jeff Wilson. Freight Cars (2005)

     Jeff Wilson. Freight Cars (2005) A summary account of freight cars in the 20th century, by type, with many photos. Running text and short captions that repeat the info in the text make cross referencing data and pictures difficult. Extended captions would have worked much better. The summary table of freight car history lacks references to the pictures, which would make finding data much easier. There’s a list of currently available or recent models, but it’s limited to HO and N. The end chapters on freight car equipment (trucks, brakes, etc) and lettering are very well done, however. There should be a bibliography for further research. The book is OK for occasional use, but it’s not as well done as it could be even for that. * (2005)

Jacob Bronowski. Science and Human Values (1956, 1964)

     Jacob Bronowski. Science and Human Values (1956, 1964) Bronowski reworked some lectures he gave at MIT in 1953. His deep humaneness informs his thinking, and his style is a model of clarity. Lovely book, worth rereading. His thesis is that science, because of its creativity and “habit of truth” is a profoundly human enterprise, and that the values we consider democratic and humane arose from the scientists’ habit of truth, or perhaps from the same source. For that habit demands both individual freedom to ask whatever questions one wants, and social responsibility in submitting one’s concepts and ideas to the criticism of others.
     Science is both an individual and a collective enterprise. Whatever scientists have proposed must be tested by experience – does it work? Does it conform to the tests of experiment and/or observation? Bronowski argues that human values are subject to the same tests, which is why they also change over time. In particular, the values we consider to be democratic and humane arose because people realised that what they thought was right or wrong had bad consequences, so they adapted their views.
     I think Bronowski is right, but the forces of faith and superstition are also powerful, and threaten to destroy the freedoms we have come to take for granted. It is difficult for later generations to recognise the fragility of their world view, since they haven’t had to establish it, but have merely inherited it. The struggle for freedom and dignity must be renewed in every generation.
     Bronowski ends the book with a quotation from himself:
     Poetry does not move us to be just or unjust, in itself. It moves us to thoughts in whose light justice and injustice are seen in fearful sharpness of outline.
     Well said. *** (2005)

Jeff Wilson. Great Northern Railway in the Pacific Northwest (2001)

     Jeff Wilson. Great Northern Railway in the Pacific Northwest (2001) Another in the Classic Trains series. Kalmbach seems to have overestimated the market for these books, since I got this deeply discounted. Anyhow, it’s worth a read. Wilson has a good sense of how to arrange the facts and pictures (which are very well reproduced.) He doesn’t give quite enough information; I prefer the BRMNA method of extended captions to the pictures. There are not enough trains-in-the-landscape pictures, which is as much an effect of the photographers’ preferences as of the editors’. Film was expensive the b/w days (a 3x5 photo cost the equivalent a $3-$5 in today’s money), and the photographers naturally wanted to get nice closeups of the locomotives -- never mind the rolling stock, or the mountains. Nevertheless, I’m happy to have this book in my library. The Great Northern is one of my favourite railways, maybe because of the mountain goat herald. **½ (2005)

Jan Karon Out to Canaan (1997)

     Jan Karon Out to Canaan (1997) Number four in the series. Tim has now been married about a year, Dooley is growing apace, and the Hope Home is operational. A mayoralty race, funded by Tim’s old nemesis Edith Mallory, who also wants to buy Fernbank and assorted other properties, provides what plot there is. Otherwise, people just chug along.

     Tim decides to retire, Tim and Cynthia take in Harley, when he is seriously ill, Lace Turner practically moves in to nurse her old friend, Winnie Ivey marries, as does Andrew Gregory (who buys Fernbank out from under the nose of E. M. in order to start a restaurant with his new bride from Italy and her brother), and so on. Tim gets a facial from Fancy Skinner, which turns his face green. Absalom Greer dies. There are assorted festivities. Buck Leeper returns to renovate the church loft into a suite of Sunday school rooms and begins renovating Cynthia’s house. He also falls for Pauline Barlowe. Barnabas the dog is nearly killed in a hit and run, Dooley does what’s needed to keep him alive until Oakley can operate, and calls Tim “Dad”. Tim decides to buy the rectory, using his mother’s inheritance. Tim and Cynthia have their first fight, but the sex is good (though very discreetly hinted at). So all in all life in Mitford moves along as it always has, with a few crises and slow and steady change. Religion plays a role, of course. It’s not as intrusive as in books two and three, it's more organically fused with the story, as in book one. Another pleasant read. **½ (2005)

Hugh Garner. Men and Women (1973)

   Hugh Garner. Men and Women (1973) The short stories collected in this book display Garner’s craftsmanship. He is good at plotting, moderately good at characterisation, and uses a plain style that tells the story in a straightforward manner. He clearly wrote for a market (the original publications of the stories are not listed, unfortunately), and that market was the (waning) general and occasionally special-interest magazine that included fiction as one of its staples. Many of these tales have a twist or punch line, but one always sees it coming, so it’s usually unnecessary. Like Callaghan, Garner writes thematic tales, and his themes are the same as Callaghan’s, with perhaps a somewhat more cynical cast to them. Women and men betray each other for all sorts of reasons, but chiefly because of weakness. The psychopath is rare in these tales, and when present is labelled as such. Like Callaghan, Garner often lets his characters condemn themselves out of their own mouths, expressing commonplace views and attitudes in situations that reveal their banality, pretentiousness, or prejudice. The stories are not great literature, they have no pretensions to being great art, but what they set out to do, they do well. They entertain the reader, and perhaps prompt him to think about what’s wrong with the world. ** (2005)

Kenneth Grahame. The Wind in the Willows (1905)

     Kenneth Grahame. The Wind in the Willows (1905) Rereading this book, I see what charmed me as a child: the camaraderie of Rat and Mole, the sturdiness of Badger (the perfect older brother or uncle), the silliness of Toad, the messing about with boats, the absence of domestic chores (apart from occasional busying oneself with unspecified work), and above all the sense that the narrative voice is telling you the story. I read the book when I was laid up with the mumps at nine or ten years old. I thought it was wonderful, and couldn't make up my mind which of the animal I'd most like to be.
     I also see clearly what I missed as a child: the latent sexuality, curiously gentle in the scene with Pan; the unquestioned class structure, seen from an upper middle-class perspective and unaware of the resentments and tensions below the surface of pleasant service and respectful encounters; and the conflicted attitudes to Toad, which I think express Grahame’s conflicted attitudes to his son Alastair. The structural problems are also obvious: Grahame was not a novelist, but a writer of short stories and anecdotal essays, and this book is structurally a connected set of such works, loosely linked through the adventures of Toad.
     The final chapter, in which Toad is tamed, does not ring true, perhaps because Grahame was expressing a wish for a change in character in Alastair rather than describing him; for that Toad is Alastair is I think quite certain. Whether Alastair saw this and identified with Toad’s self-congratulation and vanity (without of course recognising their silliness) is something I would like to know. I suspect he did: his suicide was I think his way out of Toad’s world. In real life, it’s impossible to change one’s character, the best one can do is to change the way one plays the role. *** (2005)

Peter Wegenstein. Die Bahn im Bild 96: Die Salzkammergut-Strecke (1996)

     Peter Wegenstein. Die Bahn im Bild 96: Die Salzkammergut-Strecke (1996) Dieter sent me this book, and a lovely little book it is. A well done history and description of the line prefaces a collection of 100 or so black and white pictures, most of them full page. They follow the line from south to north, and show not only the variety of scene and landscape of this mountain railway, but also a good selection of locomotives and rolling stock from all eras. I rode this line often as a boy, travelling to and from Graz, where I went to school in a Bundeserziehungsanstalt, which despite its name was no jail but a boarding school. I enjoyed my time there, probably because the masters left us pretty well to our own devices outside of class and mandatory homework. This book will help a lot with my modelling efforts. It also caused a hefty case of nostalgia. *** (2005)

Alison Prince. Kenneth Grahame: An Innocent in the Wild Wood (1994)

     Alison Prince. Kenneth Grahame: An Innocent in the Wild Wood (1994) Prince treats Grahame as a child that never grew up, but learned to act like an adult when needed. He had a wretched childhood, lightened by his joy in nature, which stayed with him all his life long, and moved him towards a Pagan pantheism (most clearly expressed in the “Pipes of Pan” chapter of Wind in the Willows). He made a reputation for himself with magazine pieces, stories and essays about children in nature that were essentially autobiographical, and which attracted those who felt unease at the industrialisation of England. He became secretary of the Bank of England, and discharged his duties conscientiously, though perhaps without real engagement, which eventually led to his early retirement from that post.
     When he was forty, Grahame made a disastrous marriage to Elspeth Thomson, a woman with romanticised notions of her own importance and creativity, who did not share Kenneth’s attitude to nature (though she was good at faking it). They had one child, Alastair, born with defective sight, and cosseted and indulged to the point where he was incapable of living in the real world, and committed suicide at Oxford. The parents had little direct contact with the boy, but in his early years, Kenneth made up stories for him, and later wrote him letters continuing the saga of Toad, Mole, Rat and the others. These eventually became Wind in the Willows. Kenneth died at the age of 73, and Elspeth set about sanctifying his memory, as she had that of their son.
     Kenneth Graham was one of those writers whose public persona, private life, and writer’s voice were all different. As a public person, he was courteous, but avoided contact with strangers as much as possible. To his closest friends he was dear and charming. To his wife he was an enigma, as she was to him. These two people were incapable of being truly themselves in each other’s company. Their marriage was founded on a fantasy of a shared interest in “fairyland”, and their married life was in some ways an attempt to avoid admitting they had made a serious mistake. Towards the end of their lives, after Alastair’s death, they travelled much, and perhaps achieved an accommodation with each other, if not a sharing of interests and enthusiasms. Prince regrets their unhappiness, and the profound loneliness of these two people, but also believes that the dysfunction of the family was necessary to the writing of Wind in the Willows.
     An interesting book. Prince rarely speculates, with gives it a certain dryness. ** (2005)

Jan Karon. These High, Green Hills (1996)

     Jan Karon. These High, Green Hills (1996) Tim and Cynthia settle into married life. The plot meanders, as a good soap should. Tim and Cynthia are trapped in a cave, which leads Tim to a personal epiphany. Sadie Baxter dies soon after a birthday celebration in her honour. Dooley comes home apparently estranged from Tim and Cynthia, but that’s OK later. Pauline Barlowe, Dooley’s mother, is burned by her partner, and barely survives, but she and Dooley connect again. Lacey Turner enters Tim and Cynthia’s lives. J. C Hogan courts and wins the police woman. And so on.
     Karon avoids the dark side. Her evil-doers are all disreputable people who can’t cope with life; they drink and worse merely because they lack self-control. In other words, they aren’t good, middle-class citizens. If only they would pull up their socks and take responsibility for their lives, they wouldn’t do such awful things. In the previous book, there was a truly evil person, Edith Mallory, who wanted Tim for herself, and almost got him, because he’s too nice to stand up to her until it’s almost too late. And then he does it on behalf of someone else, not himself.
     But in this book, all the respectable people are good people. They may be annoying and irritating, but they aren’t bad. Since these books are heavy on religion and its beneficial effects on people, this avoidance of true evil is a failing. It may be that Karon is accommodating the tastes of her readers, for religion is more evangelical and less Episcopalian in this book than in the first one. I think the books would be stronger if they were darker. As it is, the religion is more set-piecy than ever, and the prayers even more of the grant-me-a-special-favour kind than before. The only exception to this is the incident in the cave, in which Tim undergoes a spiritual crisis that resolves his conflicted feelings about his father, and relieves him of his burden of the fear of not getting it right. Here, his prayer is a true communing with God, an opening of the self to possibility, and not a form of magic. ** (2005)