NINE CHAINS TO THE MOON by R. Buckminster Fuller


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Is it a confession of a natural inaptitude for matters scientific or just plan dumbness that forces me to disclose the fact that Nine Chains To The Noon left me puzzled, confused and doubting? Whatever the reason, I must acknowledge that I cannot give a fair appraisal of the book. When the author is discussing tangibles such as Henry Ford's place in the scheme of things, I can follow him (albeit it not agree with him). When he goes into the matter of the energy dollar, I find my imagination racing -- and my reason combatting the picture drawn. I get a certain kick out of his debunking some of mankind's pet theories, economic, social, factual; but I can't bear the thought of as mechanized and hyper-simplified a life as he prophesies. BUT there are vast areas where I cannot follow him, where mathematical and physical abstractions leave me floundering, where meaning is lost -- for me -- in a thicket of verbiage. Have a look for yourself. It is an adventure in thought -- and it is a bit of mental gymnastics. For description, see publisher's catalogue.

Pub Date: Sept. 8th, 1938
Publisher: Lippincott