Ambitious and thought-provoking.
Cutting-edge physics for a popular audience.
This time out, Kaku (Physics, CUNY; Hyperspace, 1994, etc.) takes us through the broad outlines of what physicists call “Theories of Everything.” The hottest new flavor here is M-Theory, a derivative of string theory in which our universe is considered to be one of innumerable parallel universes separated by tiny distances in eleven-dimensional space. While apparently counterintuitive, such theories arise from the solid twin pillars of modern physics: quantum theory and general relativity. Kaku dutifully steers the reader through the key formulations of physics, with brief glimpses of the scientists behind the big ideas: not only Newton, Einstein and Hawking, but the playful George Gamow, who did as much as anyone to make the Big Bang respectable, and the wisecracking Richard Feynman, who cheerfully admitted that nobody really understands quantum theory. We also get a look at the hardware of today’s science, from the atom-smashers that generate new particles to the giant telescopes that peer back toward the origins of the universe. Kaku clearly enjoys speculating about the broader implications of his subject, and he cites several SF novels with obvious familiarity. His concluding chapters offer a discussion of some ways an advanced civilization might escape the heat death of the universe by tunneling into a parallel universe where the stars still shine. Unfortunately, though, Kaku sometimes stumbles when he strays beyond physics. Errors creep into his historical summaries (Copernicus wrote his astronomical treatise well before his deathbed), and analogies sometimes fall flat: he states that plucking a musical string harder produces a different note (it just becomes louder). His final chapter looks for meaning in the structure of the cosmos, seeking a compromise between the Copernican principle (we are not special) and the anthropic principle (we can hardly be accidental).
Ambitious and thought-provoking.Pub Date: Jan. 1, 2005
ISBN: 0-385-50986-3
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2004
A tasty, educational treat for tech heads and other web denizens.
The internet was not meant for the likes of us—and yet we have it, through means that tech historian McCullough capably recounts in this wide-ranging history of the internet era.
It wasn’t so long ago that technologists dismissed the thought that ordinary mortals would have a use for a computer and not so long ago that the internet was a skeletal version of its present self, confined to computers administered by the military-industrial complex. Chalk the change up, writes the author, to the opening of the net to civilian traffic—and then to techies at the University of Illinois who, building on earlier platforms, launched the first browser in 1993, early on called X Mosaic “because it was designed to work with X Window, a graphical user interface popular with users of Unix machines.” If any of the terms in the preceding clause are mysterious, then this book may prove tough slogging, but it has plenty of odd drama. For example, Bill Gates came calling on what later became Netscape, hoping to build an alliance; when rebuffed, he retooled Microsoft in order to build a browser of its own, having quickly divined how important the internet would become. McCullough’s story is populated by numerous geeky heroes, notable among them Steve Jobs but most far less familiar, along with some free-riders and businesspeople who realized that the internet’s free gift to the world was something that could be turned into a cash cow. Writes the author, “the Internet might have been launched in Silicon Valley, but to a large extent, it was monetized by startups in New York City.” Most of the individual components of McCullough’s story, which closes with the arrival of the “completely, conceptually perfect” iPhone in 2007, are well-documented, but few other histories of modern technology connect them so fluently. In this, the narrative resembles Steven Levy’s by now ancient Hackers (1984) and John Markoff’s more recent What the Dormouse Said (2005); it compares favorably to both.
A tasty, educational treat for tech heads and other web denizens.Pub Date: Oct. 23, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-63149-307-2
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Liveright/Norton
Review Posted Online: July 30, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2018
A comprehensive, fact-packed examination of the deep's largest denizens, tracing the patterns that connect mythology, biology, and the human imagination. Marine illustrator Ellis (Men and Whales, 1991) starts with the legends and teases out their kernels of fact, drawing on material from medieval bestiaries to cutting-edge scientific discoveries. Sailors ogling mermaids from afar were really staring at manatees, he concludes; the biblical Leviathan was probably the whale (which would be overhunted in later times). The scores of people who have reported sightings of giant sea serpents certainly saw something, Ellis believes, probably a red- crested ribbon fish or the arm of a giant squid basking near the surface. He moves his discussion a step further than simple myth debunking, however, by showing how these creatures have been remythologized in the contemporary consciousness. The whale, once a commodity, is now a symbol, its image adorning T-shirts and its song analyzed for signs of an intelligence greater than our own. Hollywood's special effects have introduced sharks and giant squid as diabolical forces carefully plotting to wreak havoc on the human race. No matter how many Latin names are bestowed on these animals, the author asserts, their evasiveness will continue to ensure their status as ``monsters.'' Ellis has included a hefty dose of marine biology, especially regarding squid and octopus, and his technical writing deflates much of the excitement his subject can provide; titillation has been banished in favor of analysis. The title promises entertainment, but the book might actually be more useful as a reference text—the attention to detail (sightings, strandings, anatomy) is exhaustive, sometimes excessively so. Still, a handful of mysteries are allowed to remain mysterious. Intelligent and often provocative writing, but devotees of Ripley's Believe It or Not will find these sea monsters a bit too tame for their taste. (120 b&w photographs and drawings, not seen)
Pub Date: Nov. 14, 1994
ISBN: 0-679-40639-5
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1994
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