Mark Buchanan, Ubiquity (2000)

     Mark Buchanan Ubiquity (2000) A discussion of the concept of the critical state as it applies to diverse phenomena. In such systems, an event can trigger a large or small change, but nothing indicates the size of the change prior to its happening. There is no proportion between the triggering event and its consequences. In fact, in the simplest models, such as the sand pile on which one drops grains one by one, the triggering event is the same in every case: a grain of sand. It may trigger a small avalanche or a huge one. It may trigger one or several avalanches. The size and number of the avalanches is unpredictable.
     Buchanan’s thesis is that human systems also are often critical, that in fact human society is an assemblage of critical-state systems. Thus, changes large and small will happen. The only thing we know for sure is that larger changes are less likely than small ones. Of course we notice the large changes and seek for explanations with the hope and aim of preventing them in future. They are not preventable, says Buchanan, because they are not predictable. Moreover, attempts to prevent them may well set off different unpredictable events. Correction: Such attempts will set off different unpredictable events.
     As I noted some years ago: explicability is not the same as predictability. We can explain, or at least describe, the chain of events that led to the first world war, but no one at the time could have predicted it. In fact, people had put in place a system of alliances designed to prevent large-scale war. Critical-state physics deals with systems whose history matters. Therefore, the mathematics of critical-state physics should be applicable to history. Buchanan goes further: critical-state physics is the science of history, he claims.
     A very useful book, and a well written one. Buchanan has the knack of explaining difficult (because unfamiliar) ideas by means of homely analogies and examples. But if he’s right, the best we can do is what we do when a hurricane threatens: prepare for the worst, just in case.

     What we can’t do is devise a system that a) will do exactly what we want it to do; and b) won’t change. 

     Recommended. **** (2002)

Update 2020 03 16: The current corona virus crisis is a case in point. The triggering event was likely the sale of an infected pangolin in a wild-life market in Wuhan, China. This critter was infected by a corona virus that was able to infect at least one of the people who handled it or its carcase. Now we have a world-wide pandemic, whose course in general is predictable: infections will rise exponentially to some peak and subside at approximately the same rate. Who will die can't be predcited, only the probable number of deaths by demographic slice. And all because, this time, a virus mutated just enough to survive in a human being. It will happen again. We just don't know and can't know whether the next cross-species infection will cause a major or a minor  illness, nor can we predict how many it will infect.

The concept of critical systems should be taught to everyone who manages any kind of system, at whatever level. In short, it should be taught to all of us. 

The World The Railways Made (1990)

     Nicholas Faith The World The Railways Made (1990) Readable social and economic history of the railways. There are a few minor errors, and a few too many typos, and the picture selection has little bearing on the text (which seems to be a common fault of British books.) Faith’s journalistic training shows in the breezy style, the unerring selection of the telling anecdote, and the logical muddle of what little analysis he attempts. A fun read, and probably a good source for high school students. **-½ (2002)

Merry Murder (1994)

     Cynthia Manson ed. Merry Murder (1994) Collection of mysteries set at Christmas time. Light confections for the most part, varying from elaborate shaggy dog stories to police procedurals. "On Christmas Day in the Morning" by Margery Allingham goes beyond the usual lightheartedness, and prompts a meditation on memory and love. Stories vary from ** to **** (2002)

The Night the Gods Smiled (1983)

     Eric Wright The Night the Gods Smiled (1983) Charlie Salter makes his debut in this novel. I read it many years ago, and it wears well on second reading. Sidelined because he backed the wrong man in the office political games, Charlie now has a chance to redeem himself. He does so, with the help of Henri O’Brien, and his low-key questioning, which slowly but surely excavates facts and motives. But is is his decision to join a squash club gives him the missing pieces, the motive, and the murderer. Nicely done, with a promise of interesting developments in Charlie’s character, and his relationships with his wife and co-workers. **½ (2002)

The Salterton Trilogy (1986)

Robertson Davies  The Salterton Trilogy (1986)
     Tempest Tost (1951) The Salterton little theatre company puts on The Tempest, and a number of complications in personal and social relationships ensue. Solly Bridgetower and Pearl Veronica Vambrace appear for the first time; they hardly notice each other until near the end, when Solly takes Veronica home from the ball, and her father berates her. Hector McIlwraith suffers mid-life blues, and pursues Griselda Webster, a girl with more than her fair share of common sense, but who nevertheless is briefly flattered by a cad, Lt. Roger Tasset. The love-lives sort themselves out, not without a little pain, and some of the social relationships are, er, clarified, like butter.
     This book is a social comedy much in the style of Jane Austen, and like hers, Davies’ satire is sometimes very sharp. The persona of avuncular good will slips from time to time and reveals an irritated distaste for hypocrites, moral cowards, social climbers, and pelf-hunger; in this, Davies resembles Stephen Leacock. From time to time Davies preaches, but he does it so gracefully, and makes his sermonettes such natural parts of serious or semi-serious conversation, that one hardly notices. This is Davies’ first published novel, and shows some creakiness here and there, but any writer would be happy to have made such a well-crafted work. One of my favourite books. ***½
      Leaven of Malice (1954) A mischievous fake classified ad announces that Solly Bridgetower and Pearl Veronica Vambrace are to be married on November 31st. This starts the story; the inevitable joining of Solly and Veronica ends it. In between we have a mystery (who is the mischief maker?); a parent blinded by egotism even to his own love for his daughter; two shy and sensitive people discovering they are made for each other; and a variety of social enmities, some of which end in satisfying poetic justice.
     As in Tempest Tost, Davies’ tongue is often sharp enough to cut deeply into small-town Canadian pretensions, but his focus is family tragedy or near-tragedy. Davies is a comedian, with a comedian’s cruelty (something he discourses on in the third book). So although the story veers close to tragedy, and certainly includes a great deal of pain, his characters prove themselves resilient enough to survive and even to find happiness. Another favourite book. ****
     A Mixture of Frailties (1958) Mrs Bridgetower dies, and her will enjoins her son and daughter-in-law to produce a son before they can inherit her considerable fortune. In the meantime, its income is to be devoted to the European education of a young woman in the arts. The lucky girl is Monica Gall, a singer, and the book centres on her. I get the feeling that Davies started out with the intention of telling the story of Solly and Veronica’s marriage under the blight of the dead woman’s’ malicious testament, but that Monica got away from him. In any case, he’s more interested in the education of an artist than in a blighted marriage, albeit that education causes enough trouble.
     But the social and personal relationships and their effects on the characters, which is the stuff of novels, seems not to interest Davies as much in this book as in the other two. Rereading it, I realised how much I had forgotten of the discussions of art and art education, and how much Monica’s life reads like a case history. The satire is almost perfunctory – it’s as if Davies is discovering some new aspect of comedy. He can make fun of silliness as well (and as gently or roughly) as ever, but his heart isn’t in it. I suspect he has come to a realisation about his talent here, and that’s why this book seems to be an experiment in the themes and forms he uses in his later trilogies. Although all three books tell how troublesome, and even wicked, choices may cause unintended good, it’s in this book that this theme becomes explicit. Nevertheless, because it has the requisite happy endings, it satisfies. ***½
     The Trilogy: I reread these three novels over almost two months. I’d forgotten how much happens in them, how many characters there are, how lightly Davies wears his learning, how well the plots develop, how naturally the dialogue fits into the story. As a group, these books would make a lovely TV series (it would have to be a full season in length), or a set of three longish movies. However, if such a production kept Davies’ astringent tone, it would not be very popular. Davies is very hard on Canadian pretensions, and especially on our peculiar mix of self-deprecation and vanity, and on a trait we share with the Americans: our conviction that ignorance of politesse is a virtue. (2002)

Fierce Pyjamas (2001)

     David Remnick & Henry Finder Fierce Pyjamas (2001) An anthology of New Yorker Pieces from the 1920s to 2000. There are more pieces from more recent decades; humour dates very quickly, but for that very reason a more balanced selection would have been far more interesting. A pleasant read, with the advantage that it can be done in short takes. ** to **** (2002)

The Original Hitch Hiker Radio Scripts (1985)

     Douglas Adams The Original Hitch Hiker Radio Scripts (1985) The whole lot, including bits snipped to shorten the scripts to the mandatory 29 minutes 30 seconds. I bought this book in 1986, and it promptly disappeared into Jon’s library in the spare bedroom. Marie found it recently when she was dusting the book shelves, so I finally got to read it. It was worth the wait.
     As we all know, Arthur Dent and his friend Ford Prefect (actually an alien from a small planet near Betelgeuse) manage to hitch a ride minutes before a Vogon space constructor fleet demolishes Earth to make way for a hyperspace bypass. The subsequent episodes detail their rescue by a ship powered by the Infinite Improbability Drive, meeting Ford’s semi-cousin Zaphod Beeblebrox, Trillian (an astrophysicist and the only other Earth survivor), Marvin the depressed robot, and so on. The central trope is the search for the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything. Throughout, The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy informs Arthur (and us) of various background stories needed to make what sense we may of the impossible events that the five adventurers survive (but only just).
     The first six episodes were made into the TV series that introduced me and (probably) millions of other people to the Guide. Adams used the latter six when he wrote the Hitch Hiker’s trilogy of four books. The different media versions differ in detail, and occasionally in story-line, but throughout we have the picaresque quest, and Adams’ amazing ability to make deep philosophical and scientific conundrums intelligible via jokes. And it all makes the kind of absurd logical sense that only the English, it seems, are able to convey.
The book includes notes on each episode by the producer Geoffrey Perkins with interpolations by Adams. ****