THE UNENDING MYSTERY

McCullough (Wars of the Irish Kings, 2000, etc.) takes a thoroughly good-humored look at the history and layout of labyrinths and mazes.

Let’s get a couple of things straight first, he writes. A labyrinth is not a maze. A labyrinth is a single circuitous path to a center, nonjudgmental and solemn. A maze is a puzzle path that demands choices; it’s raffish, tricky, and often enough designed with one end in mind: fun. Labyrinths go back—even pre–Stone Age—with a typical design of 7- or 11-fold circuits; mazes are a rather newer invention. In the cheerful voice of one smitten by both subjects, McCullough takes readers on a tour of some fascinating labyrinths and mazes: Etruscan, Cretan, Roman, medieval, Native American, English (as in country houses), made of corn, glass, and mirrors. With each site he visits or examines, he tenders speculations on the role of labyrinths, being mostly taken with their contemplative role, to reflect and inspire and offer peace, to serve as a surrogate pilgrim's way. Mazes have an equally fascinating, if less hoary, background; McCullough notes the suggestions that they evolved out of Gaelic knots, or the designs of Persian rugs, and that by the 16th century they had become both “social events and elaborate garden ornaments,” as well as, perhaps, a chance for vice. Although he tries to keep his head square on his shoulders, he also entertains theories involving divine doodles and quantum physics, displaying dry humor when it comes to the purported string theory parallel. “The chapter on string theories in Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time,” he notes, “being the point where most of his readers realized that they hadn’t the slightest idea what Hawking was writing about.” Also captivating is the material on sacred geometry and symbolic numbers, including the rare appearance, as related to McCullough, of angels and stardust on a labyrinthine walk.

Proffers this sound advice: Get lost or, better yet, take a walk. (Illustrations throughout)