UP THE INFINITE CORRIDOR

MIT AND THE TECHNICAL IMAGINATION

A history of MIT, doubling as a glimpse at the gonzo world of the modern engineer. The infinite corridor of the title refers to the 762-foot-long hallway that runs through five contiguous buildings behind the entrance hall of MIT, arguably the best science school in the world. But it also suggests the endless vistas of discovery that welcome those who join MIT's madcap, almost all-male, engineering fraternity. Hapgood (Why Males Exist, 1979) begins with a typical instance of this gang's by-the-bootstraps ingenuity, showing how an Armani-suited MIT inventor devises a gadget to turn sheets on a music stand while the musician keeps his hands on his instrument. The essence of the method is trial-and-error, plus a massive dollop of intuition—but it wasn't always like this. MIT was founded in 1865 for ``tweakers,'' engineers who made incremental improvements in existing systems. Pure research and breakthrough invention were kept in the closet until WW II, when radar was developed by MIT physicists. Since then, the school has cultivated a ``nerd'' ethos much celebrated by its students, who hold an annual ``Ugliest Man'' contest. Tensions with the arts-and-letters crowd, especially at neighboring Harvard, remain strong. Both faculty and students suffer from burnout and find relief in frivolities like square dancing and model railroading (both hobbies becoming unimaginably complicated in their MIT versions). As Hapgood demonstrates most entertainingly, MIT's essentially juvenile values—``communal bonhomie, irreverence, high tolerance for goofiness, belief in the power of fantasy, and an insistence on having total control of their own world''—have led to several major scientific revolutions, not least the age of computers. A informative look at current MIT research into holography, artificial limbs, computer driving, nanotechnology (hyper-miniaturization), and, inevitably, game-playing round out this bouncy report. Geeks and gadgets, from an admirer.

Pub Date: Feb. 1, 1993

ISBN: 0-201-08293-4

Page Count: 208

Publisher: Addison-Wesley

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 1992

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Loads of good explaining, with reminders, time and again, of how much remains unknown, neatly putting the death of science...

A SHORT HISTORY OF NEARLY EVERYTHING

Bryson (I'm a Stranger Here Myself, 1999, etc.), a man who knows how to track down an explanation and make it confess, asks the hard questions of science—e.g., how did things get to be the way they are?—and, when possible, provides answers.

As he once went about making English intelligible, Bryson now attempts the same with the great moments of science, both the ideas themselves and their genesis, to resounding success. Piqued by his own ignorance on these matters, he’s egged on even more so by the people who’ve figured out—or think they’ve figured out—such things as what is in the center of the Earth. So he goes exploring, in the library and in company with scientists at work today, to get a grip on a range of topics from subatomic particles to cosmology. The aim is to deliver reports on these subjects in terms anyone can understand, and for the most part, it works. The most difficult is the nonintuitive material—time as part of space, say, or proteins inventing themselves spontaneously, without direction—and the quantum leaps unusual minds have made: as J.B.S. Haldane once put it, “The universe is not only queerer than we suppose; it is queerer than we can suppose.” Mostly, though, Bryson renders clear the evolution of continental drift, atomic structure, singularity, the extinction of the dinosaur, and a mighty host of other subjects in self-contained chapters that can be taken at a bite, rather than read wholesale. He delivers the human-interest angle on the scientists, and he keeps the reader laughing and willing to forge ahead, even over their heads: the human body, for instance, harboring enough energy “to explode with the force of thirty very large hydrogen bombs, assuming you knew how to liberate it and really wished to make a point.”

Loads of good explaining, with reminders, time and again, of how much remains unknown, neatly putting the death of science into perspective.

Pub Date: May 6, 2003

ISBN: 0-7679-0817-1

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Broadway

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2003

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Ackerman writes with a light but assured touch, her prose rich in fact but economical in delivering it. Fans of birds in all...

THE GENIUS OF BIRDS

Science writer Ackerman (Ah-Choo!: The Uncommon Life of Your Common Cold, 2010, etc.) looks at the new science surrounding avian intelligence.

The takeaway: calling someone a birdbrain is a compliment. And in any event, as Ackerman observes early on, “intelligence is a slippery concept, even in our own species, tricky to define and tricky to measure.” Is a bird that uses a rock to break open a clamshell the mental equivalent of a tool-using primate? Perhaps that’s the wrong question, for birds are so unlike humans that “it’s difficult for us to fully appreciate their mental capabilities,” given that they’re really just small, feathered dinosaurs who inhabit a wholly different world from our once-arboreal and now terrestrial one. Crows and other corvids have gotten all the good publicity related to bird intelligence in recent years, but Ackerman, who does allow that some birds are brighter than others, points favorably to the much-despised pigeon as an animal that “can remember hundreds of different objects for long periods of time, discriminate between different painting styles, and figure out where it’s going, even when displaced from familiar territory by hundreds of miles.” Not bad for a critter best known for bespattering statues in public parks. Ackerman travels far afield to places such as Barbados and New Caledonia to study such matters as memory, communication, and decision-making, the last largely based on visual cues—though, as she notes, birds also draw ably on other senses, including smell, which in turn opens up insight onto “a weird evolutionary paradox that scientists have puzzled over for more than a decade”—a matter of the geometry of, yes, the bird brain.

Ackerman writes with a light but assured touch, her prose rich in fact but economical in delivering it. Fans of birds in all their diversity will want to read this one.

Pub Date: April 12, 2016

ISBN: 978-1-59420-521-7

Page Count: 336

Publisher: Penguin Press

Review Posted Online: Feb. 17, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2016

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