Bourgeois Book Club

The Art Detective by Philip Mould

Art is fragile. Pigments chemically change, light fades, dirt obscures, overenthusiastic restorers of yesteryear overclean and overpaint. Then there are the hoaxes and forgeries, the misattributions and the mistakes, and just the plain occultation of time. This memoir of the art world by Antiques Roadshow (UK) valuer, British portrait specialist, and Dickensian-named Philip Mould takes us through the detective work, scientific and archival, necessary to take an ugly duckling picture in some dingy shed and turn it, through the magic of restoration and provenance, into a beautiful swan at auction. It's a treasure hunt through old churches, forgotten attics, and disused corridors to find the mislabeled and misidentified, the neglected and the damaged, for those rare birds.

The portrait of Mould painted by his writing is that of a tweed-jacketed, pipe-smoking good egg with a plummy accent; sadly, however, he doesn't have the moustache, mane of white hair, and stylish, but unstated, eyewear I had pictured. (I can neither confirm nor deny based on that picture whether he smokes a pipe or wears tweed jackets.) He's terrific at sketching out the oddballs and eccentrics of the art world, always with good humor and sympathy. Indeed, good humor is one of the most appealing aspects of the book, though often with a very British subtlety and wryness. Mould takes art seriously, but neither himself nor his fellow man thus.

Mould is particularly interesting when talking about the role of connoisseurship in art. All of today's high-tech analysis and readily available scholarly material, as important and fascinating as they are (and Mould goes into some detail about them), can't quite replace the in-depth knowledge of a painter or school. Sometimes, millions of dollars ride on nothing more than a gut feeling. But that's all part of the game that Mould so beautifully describes: the thrill of discovery, of winning over rivals, of uncovering neglected art.

An absolute delight and most highly recommended.

Farlander by Col Buchanan

The assassin Ash is an exile on the cusp of death. Nico is a homeless youth from a besieged and beleaguered island. After a robbery gone wrong, Nico agrees to become Ash's apprentice in the arts of killing.

The Empire of Mann is an expansionist theocracy dedicated to a Nietzschean religion based on conscienceless cruelty, debauchery, and butchery. When the son of the Holy Matriarch kills a girl under the protection of the Roshun assassin order, Ash and Nico, along with Ash's great rival and his apprentice, are dispatched to assail the very heart and stronghold of the Empire and take lethal revenge. Meanwhile, the war between Mann and Nico's homeland, the Mercian Free Ports, the last remaining free nation around the Midere sea, enters what could be its final, catastrophic phase and signal Mann's final triumph.

A shocking ending, compelling characters, and a host of varied viewpoints make this a well-above-average fantasy. Bits of steampunk, such as dirigibles and gaslights, seem a bit tacked-on and cosmetic more than integral, but they don't really detract, either. The exploration of the psychological and sociological tolls of war, especially what it means to be brave and survive, is thought-provoking and something you don't often see in fantasy. Definitely worth a read.

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

Diana Bishop is the heir of two magical lines, but determined to lead a normal, human life as a historian of sciences, specifically seventeenth century chemistry, without the burden or crutch of magic. Unfortunately, an alchemical manuscript pulled from the shelves of the Bodleian for her latest research project blows the carefully constructed wall of separation between her heritage and scholarship clear away. Her discovery attracts the attention of Michael Clairmont, vampire biochemist and neuroscientist, and a host of other daemons, witches, and vampires, as these things incidents invariably do.

Honestly, though it sounds like I read the whole book, I couldn't get past the first hundred pages. As if I didn't feel like enough of a misogynist this week, I find that the book by a female in this edition of Bourgeois Book Club is the one I'm going to pan. I'm all about the infodumps, but something about Harkness's exposition just grates. I found I had no connection to the characters, and surprisingly little interest in the world. The romance was a little too Twilighty for me. Michael, who like all vampires just happens to be devastatingly attractive, just finds her instantly irresistible and Diana finds him mysteriously alluring and it all just is unconvincing. He actually breaks into her house and watches her sleep! Way to be creepy!

It's a book I expected to enjoy, and it's getting good notices, but somehow, despite being right in my remit, it turned me right cold. Maybe if I did my full duty as a reviewer and finished the book, I'd find it ultimately satisfying, but I just can't summon the energy to continue with a book that I'm disliking. I'm just a bad, baaaaaaaad reviewer, I guess. I'll put it away for a while, though, and maybe if I come back to it I'll be able to enjoy it more and finish it.

On a more positive, but shallow, note: it has an absolutely gorgeous cover. Really, one of the prettiest I've ever seen. And it smells really good, too, with thick, creamy paper that's a delight to touch. (Long-time readers know I have a bit of a fetish for book texture and smell.)

Added 3/3/11: Nice to know I'm not totally crazy. It doesn't sound like I missed much by stopping.

Bourgeois Book Club

Our Mathematical Universe by Max Tegmark

If you're a frequent reader of Scientific American, New Scientist, and the like, you've probably seen at least one article by or featuring Max Tegmark. Tegmark, a Swedish physicist, has as his main claim to fame a four-level classification scheme for multiverses. Our Mathematical Universe is the ultimate explication of Tegmark's multiversal ideas, and a philosophical manifesto of sorts, arguing that not only does math describe our universe, but that our universe is math.

Leavened with biographical details, Our Mathematical Universe is an enjoyable read, though often a mind-bending one. Is it convincing? I'm not so sure about that. Tegmark is a lucid writer, and does good work explaining difficult concepts in understandable ways, though definitely not everything, but one gets the impression that some of his assertions and assumptions seem both perfectly clear and rock-solid to him, but not necessarily others.

Tegmark must be lauded, though, for fully admitting the controversial nature of his ideas, and the arguments against them. He, of course, ultimately thinks these arguments invalid, but he does give them more discussion and respect than in a lot of books of this type. His breezy and jovial tone keeps the polemic down. I was also pleasantly surprised by how string-theory-neutral he is. He goes into interesting digressions into consciousness, life, and the future of humanity, which were very interesting even if, again, not always wholly convincing.

I must give notice to the copious tables, charts, and illustrations, which are well-done and informative, which is not always the case in such books. Also, the chapter-end bullet-point summaries are a good way of refreshing and clarifying for when you find your eyes crossing by the end of a chapter.

This is a work of wild speculation, controversial and even perhaps crazy, but it is interesting in a very deep way. Reject every word he says or fully buy into it, the book makes you think.

(For a more skeptical review, which also contains links to still more reviews, from someone more knowledgeable about the actual content, see Peter Woit. See the comments, especially, for a good dialogue between Woit and Tegmark himself.)

Trespassing on Einstein's Lawn by Amanda Gefter

It all began with a father asking his teenaged daughter "What is nothing?" It turned into a quest to understand the universe. Amanda Gefter and her father bonded over trying to figure out the world, and this propelled her into a self-made science journalism career. Trespassing on Einstein's Lawn is the chronicle of how this happened and what she learned.

It's unusual for this genre in its tone. It has curse words! I was shocked by this, but not in an unpleasant way. These sorts of books never have that kind of language, but for the tone of the book, it fits. Physicists are human! Talking like regular people do, crudity and all! So weird!

It's also, sadly, an unusual story because women don't usually write about this stuff. I can only think of a few female writers in this genre, like Kitty Ferguson (who's written mostly about and related to Stephan Hawking) and Dava Sobel maybe (though mostly her work is historical). Lisa Randall wrote a popular book a few years ago about her work, but she's a scientist. Most of the authors in this area are white males. Thus, Gefter's voice is different and desperately neeeded in the game.

The goal of the book is to understand reality, and the conclusion she comes to is, basically, that there is no universe. Every observer has their "own" universe defined by their frame of reference, and it is all ultimately Nothing, which looks like Something due to the boundaries imposed upon it by the reference frames of the observer. The observer, since it does not exist in other reference frames, is ultimately just Nothing as well. I'm not really doing the conclusion justice, of course; she wrote a whole book to get to and explain it. But that's a basic summary, I think.

I can't say I come away particularly convinced. I don't think the definition of what an observer is is really interrogated enough, though it is noted here and there. I also think the "and then the observer disappears!" trick at the end is a bit of a cop-out. Also, a lot of the steps towards the conclusion are based on concepts and theories in physics that are far, far from as settled and proven, or even provable, than I think she ever lets on. There are major, major differences of opinion and radically different interpretations at work on these issues. She does explain a lot of those controversies, but ultimately just goes with whatever interpretation "feels right" to her and fits with stuff she's already decided. Even to begin with, philosophically, she starts with two assumptions: One, her father's definition of Nothing (which they term the "H-state") as "a state of infinite, unbounded homogeneity"; Something is merely Nothing with a boundary. Two, that what is not invariant is not "real." The first is a legitimate approach to Nothing, but it also isn't the only one. The second I just don't think is obviously true.

This is a personal story, and a lot of it involves personal encounters with physicists. And, as is always the case, you can tell she likes some more than others, and thus naturally gravitates towards their point-of-view over those of whom she does not like, though she is always fair in hearing them out. John Wheeler is who really jump-started the project; her and her father spent the time to read all of his journals in an effort to understand his thinking. He's sort of the spiritual father of the quest, and thus his ideas shape the entirety of her thinking. You can tell she became friends with Leonard Susskind, and was intimidated/disliked David Gross. Which do you think proved more relevant to her conclusions?

This isn't all to knock her journey or her conclusions. After all, this is, to reiterate yet again, a memoir, a personal story of discovery, and ultimately just one person's Deep Thoughts about the what and why of reality informed by a lot of cutting-edge physics. This is also an area where, if you've been following along with me for a while, I have a great deal of interest and follow very closely. I have an idea of a lot of the stuff she's leaving out or glossing over. I also have my own prejudices and preferences which heighten my skepticism and heighten my criticism.

I admit to feeling slightly jealous of her. She is interested in many of the same questions I am, but had a cohort in her father to actually talk about them with. She has had the chutzpah to take her interest and make a living and a life out of it. She and her father have spent countless hours of their lives thinking, reading, and fretting about the meaning and origin of reality, an endeavor to which I can really, really relate. Her father has a whole room filled with books on physics and such! Oh what bliss. She also seems comfortable and satisfied with what she's found, which I envy.

Despite all the disagreements I may have with it, I can't help but recommend the book. She's a very good writer, and hers is a fascinating and enjoyable story.

Two matters of book design to close: One, it has a great paper smell. Sort of tea-like? Two, and much less positively, there is no index. Perhaps because it's sorta-kinda a memoir? But it has a glossary and footnotes. It's very strange, to me.

(For another take on the book, again see Peter Woit.)

Bourgeois Book Club

Been on a bit of a nonfiction kick lately, specifically books about math and time and silly stuff like that. I've been very lucky, and all three have been absolutely excellent, so I thought I'd share, in case anyone is in the market for frivolous fare.

Infinite Ascent: A Short History of Mathematics
by David Berlinski

Really more a sketch than even a true short history, it can be occasionally a bit heavy-going for the math-phobic, and it can lose you if you haven't even thought of algebra or geometry since ninth grade, but a still enjoyable and quick read. The author is also a novelist, and it does show, in a good way. I don't agree with some of his interpretations of history (like I'm some sort of expert), and the fact that he's a creationist is appalling to me, but it really doesn't and shouldn't take away from the book. The cover is one of my absolute favorite of any book I've ever seen. It's simply spectacular: crisp, clean, and evocative.

In Search of Time by Dan Falk

A wide-ranging look at that most mysterious of dimensions from the point of view of myth, physics, philosophy, psychology, and more from one of the best science writers around. (Falks's previous book, The Universe on a T-Shirt, is a highly recommended favorite of mine.) The only real annoyance is the layout. Whoever laid this book out, and the person who signed off on it before sending it to the printer even more so, should be fired. It's not even just nitpicky stuff from a nerd who has done some layout, there are serious problems, including one-word lines force justified across the page, bad spacing, footnotes on the wrong pages, and evenfootnotes that cut off in midsentence. Really a travesty. Hopefully these issues will be corrected by the paperback edition, though.

Is God A Mathematician? by Mario Livio

Another hit-and-run survey of the history of mathematics (though more thorough and far-ranging than Berlinski's), don't let the title fool you: this isn't a religious polemic or apologia. It's much more about the struggles with the meaning of mathematics and the question of the origins of mathematics and its "unreasonable effectiveness" (basically it comes down to whether math is something intrinsic in the universe that we discover or whether its something we create somehow). Clear, lucid, and witty, it's an enjoyable ride without a lot of actual math. The blue of the cover, by the way, is really beautiful and inviting, even strangely soothing. Kudos to the cover designer who picked it! Also, the paper has this oatmealy smell to it that's really nice. (But, then, you know all about my fetish for book smells.)

Musty Books

Now robots can get a good sniff of that lovely old books smell, too. I'm not being sarcastic, either; you know how I have a book smell fetish.

Also, robots? In libraries, digging through the collective knowledge of humanity? We're just begging them to become sentient and overthrow their organic overlords (i.e. us) aren't we?

(Via Bookninja)

Book Smell

I'm not the only one with a book sniffing fetish! That makes me feel much less of a freak.

(Via Books, Inq.)

At Last!

A perfume for us bibliophiles and book-smell afficiandoes! 

Bourgeois Birthday Bash

Yes, there was last year's anniversary meditation and another anniversary post, and still other anniversary posts, too. But this year it's the FIFTH anniversary of Bourgeois Nerd! Such a momentous event cannot go un-noted, so prepare yourself for FIVE YEARS LATER: A BOURGEOIS NERD EXTRAVAGANZA!

It all began with this first post on New Year's Eve 2004. From small seeds grow... small plants? Or something.

My greatest blogging triumph, perhaps, is the Cartoon Nostalgia series. Nostalgia's fun. And damn I watched a lot of cartoons!

Shocking for a blog called Bourgeois Nerd, I've talked a whole hell of a lot about Star Wars. I'm also prone to going meta about nerds and geeks and what it all means. It's all so self-reinforcing, not to mention cliche.

Glade Lady is my muse. My crazy, commercial character muse.

Pathetically enough, this is the last time I had almost-sex. *sigh* That was when I still had my lost youthful looks (before I got fat and ugly); now, I'm just thoughtful. This is one of the many reasons I'm not a very good Gay, except that I am. Makes me worry about love.

I'm nothing if not a bibliophile (I know, you're shocked), so there are more posts about books and libraries than is even possible to number! A few of the highlights: I like the smell of books; Bourgeois Book Club; I was in a book and then proceeded to shill it endlessly.

I was once briefly famous in the academic blogosphere. Fame, alas, is elusive on the blogosphere. I don't regret the conclusion not to go into academia, though.

Thi post that has perhaps gotten me the most traffic, due to its placement on Google Images. I've since gotten to see her in person, and let me tell you it's even more amazing!

I recently took a walk down Memory Lane to reminisce about Blogs That Aren't There Anymore.

I didn't think the new Star Trek movie would work at first, but then I changed my mind.

I'm obsessed with polar bear hybrids, as well as pugs, pandas, unusual white animals, gay birds, interspecies amity, and just about anything cute.

I can be amazingly thick sometimes.

Christmas is over, but holiday nostalgia and The Spirit of Christmas lasts all year 'round at Bourgeois Nerd!

As hard as it is to believe, I can get even more pensive and existential than usual. Heck, I doubt I'm real sometimes!

I like fall, and like the turning of the leaves each year, I repeat this fact every autumn.

I find that confession is good for the soul, and blogs are the new confession booths, without all that pesky priest and the Hail Marys and such.

Spam is the artform of our age.

I was obsessed by the Beijing Summer Olympics (for the menz, natch)!

For a certain subset of readers, my main claim to fame is the GH TWoP FAQs.

Finally, I know why you all really come here: Skimpy Sundays. Pervs!

Five years and 2,694 posts later, here I am! It's all rather amazing. I've outlasted so many worthier and more popular blogs. It's humbling. And what's next? Well, hopefully at some point this year I'll be able to get the new look going. This place definitely needs a facelift. Otherwise, I just hope I can continue to grow and improve as a blogger, whatever that means.

But regardless of what the future brings, right now I want to thank all the fantastic bloggers who I shamelessly rip off for content draw inspiration from and who have linked to me over the years. Thank you most of all, though, to all my readers. My readership isn't the biggest out there, but it's definitely one of the best! I love you all! Happy New Year!!!

The Sweet Smell of Science

As long-time readers know, I have a bit of a thing for the scent of books and paper, so the science behind book aromas is exactly my jam.

That Ain't No Wand, Harry!

Apparantly, people are shooting at each other over the new Harry Potter book. There also seems to be espionage and illegal betting practices afoot. I smell the work of Lord Voldemort! *groan at my own inane joke*

(Via Bookslut)