Category: Book Reviews

The Apollo program of the 1960’s successfully placed a few military men and one geologist on the Moon’s surface. The goal of the program was to showcase the technology of the US. The result aimed for people around the world to believe that their style of government was better than communism. Since this propaganda event, the US, and indeed the rest of the world has, at best, placed a few more people in low earth orbit. Though a number of programs and concepts were dreamed of and even broadcasted, no funds were ever sent their way. Hence, since the highwater mark of landing on the Moon, people have remained in the relatively safe environs within the Earth’s radiation belt. Only a few robots and probes have gone farther to learn more. With over 30 years accumulated knowledge, many expect that it’s time to use this knowledge and get some return from our investment in space.

The desire to return comes out clear and strong in this book. There are twenty eight articles, each written by a motivated specialist. The common theme addresses the how and why of having people return to the Moon. With so many contributors, particular topics can get quite esoteric. Routine thoughts about launch vehicles are followed by more expansive articles on land ownership, rocket sleds, nanobot proving grounds and conscious evolution. As varied as the topics are, none reside in the realm of science fiction. Each has a sound basis in reason. And each, at least according to the author, would make a valuable contribution to this new program. Judicious editing by Tumlinson and Medlicott keep the articles clear, concise and relevant.

Given that both editors are board members of the Space Frontier Foundation, there is no surprise that the underlying theme of the book is for a greater frontier like attitude to Moon exploration. Given this viewpoint, there’s lots of NASA bashing and suggestions for improvements. The articles aren’t necessarily anti-establishment, the authors just believe that their ideas can improve that which has gone before. But, the authors can be overly optimistic. They seem to forget that during the frontier days there was lots of experimentation together with many accidental and purposeful deaths. This downside is never mentioned. Rather, the typical expectation shown in the articles is for the government to build the transportation infrastructure, as the railways in the old west. Once done, rich people or well funded corporations would use it in the time honoured practise of making profit. Maybe this approach will occur and succeed, maybe it won’t. However, this frontier approach is the only one supported within the book.

By having many different authors and many different angles, each article has its own style and flavour. Like an ice cream stand, there should be something for everyone. Also, the authors make convincing arguments. This leaves the impression is that they’ve argued their cases often and can support their reasoning. This robustness lends credence to individual theories and the underlying theme. Also, the topics flow with little repetition, aside from the berating of NASA though these can easily be skipped over. A preamble presumably written by one of the editors effectively places each article in the flow of the arguments. The editors did however miss a fair number of errors which takes some of the polish off. Nevertheless, if you’re interested in alternative options in getting people working on the Moon, this book has many articles which might strike your fancy.

Government programs are one of the few places where you can get away with spending other people’s money. Fun as it is, everyone from program managers on up the line must be able to substantiate the investment. Rick Tumlinson and Erin Medlicott in their book Return to the Moon bring together articles from many experts to add some options for the US government’s current program to place people again on the Moon and then on to Mars. The many ideas can bring a fresh new perspective to spending money and realizing profit from setting up a work place for humans off of Earth.

Review by Mark Mortimer

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Fred Hoyle was a north country Yorkshire man who grew up independent of teachers and tutors. In following his own interests rather than a legislated curriculum, he happily ambled about his home turf until he got a taste of science and decided that’s where his future lay. With dedicated application, he did well enough at national and university tests to garner scholarships and eventually become a contributing member of Cambridge’s faculty. There, he entered into the developing field of cosmology and stayed with it for the remainder of his life. He contributed to the ideas of accretion and nucleosynthesis and maintained a lively debate on whether the universe was evolutionary or in steady state. As well, he practised his skills at public dissertations by publishing many science fiction books, speaking on radio and even writing operas. An ensuing shower of awards speaks to the appreciation many people had for his efforts, but some of his more pointed ideas kept a few of Hoyle’s peers at a distance.

This biography by Jane Gregory concentrates more on what Fred Hoyle did rather than who he was. There’s not much describing Hoyle’s early life or his non-academic activities. Rather, Gregory works through correspondence leading up to and following definite accomplishments. The information in the book is soundly based upon well referenced documentation, and in so doing, Gregory replays many of Hoyle’s controversies. For example, there’s Hoyle’s disparaging thoughts about the process of guarded peer reviews. A number of times his requests for publication were rejected. Also, there’s the emotional debate Hoyle had with Martin Ryle regarding whether the universe is in a steady state or is evolutionary. Gregory also includes many brief reviews of Hoyle’s fictional works which all seem to have sentient beings arrive on Earth from elsewhere in the universe. There subsequent purpose is to undertake some nefarious action that only a scientist can resolve. With Gregory’s thoroughly quoted compilation, the reader can easily appreciate the volume and strength of Hoyle’s work.

The challenge with Gregory’s book is that it doesn’t actually address any one particular aspect of Hoyle’s life. There’s much on the science, whether nuclear physics, radar or cosmology, but not really enough to understand the implications of Hoyle’s work in the general scientific community. There’s a large number of notes regarding politics in science, especially with building an institute at Cambridge, constructing a telescope in Australia and considering the role of an Astronomer Royal. But, there’s not enough to understand the nature of developing scientific policy nor how Hoyle coped. There simply is not enough describing Hoyle’s non-academic life to fully appreciate who this person was and why they were driven to do what they did. Rather than taking one of these paths and doing it justice, Gregory presents all through copious direct and in-direct references. This then leaves the reader to come to their own conclusion concerning Fred Hoyle.

Though this general lack of direction is bothersome, the solid reference sheds excellent light on some of Hoyle’s more questionable actions. Gregory provides a fair and unopinionated review regarding Hoyle’s concern with Jocelyn Bell and the awarding of a Nobel prize for radioastrophysics. She provides an equally fair presentation of Hoyle’s interest in panspermia and the archaeopteryx fossil. The inclusion of comments from colleagues and peers is particularly rewarding and could have been amplified to provide a more sound idea of Hoyle’s dedication to his personal interests and the type of person he was. By doing so, the reader would feel as if they had visited with Hoyle himself rather than have simply read about his accomplishments.

Only a well aimed paw of a bear will stop a fish from making its safe migratory journey up river. This dedication and passion to travel against the current is reflected in the actions of some driven people. Jane Gregory in her book Fred Hoyle’s Universe brings forward the account of Fred Hoyle and shows how this theoretical astronomer made many lasting and sometimes unexpected contributions to our collective knowledge. After all, remaining safely ensconced in established perceptions is not going to teach anyone anything.

Review by Mark Mortimer

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The Apollo 11 flight put the first humans onto the Moon’s surface. This culmination of the space race between the USA and the USSR is the watershed in human space travel. Though a singularly exciting event in its own right, this mission was many years in the making and needed the contribution of tens of thousands across the country. As such, there was a deserved celebration when the Command Module slowly descended into the Pacific Ocean 8 days after launch.

Godwin’s space guide for this event is necessarily abbreviated and succinct, as it is just a guide. An historical overview begins with Miletus predicting a solar eclipse in 585 BCE, speeds past the Montgolfiers and their balloons, then plants the reader at the beginning of the space race. This was when both the US and USSR planned to launch a satellite during the International Geophysical Year of 1957. The guide continues with the Apollo program’s immediate predecessors, the Redstone program, the Gemini program and touches on the big decisions for Apollo itself, such as the rendezvous method. Brief backgrounds of the astronauts follow and then a step by step listing of major flight events, each aligned with a corroborating time line. The written section of the guide concludes with a description of the experimental equipment and other ancillary gear. Much is omitted but, for a guide, Godwin picks just the right amount of just the right facts to make it interesting and pertinent.

The remainder of the guide, nearly half, is filled with coloured drawings and photographs. There’s the rocket and the Command/Service Module in graphic detail. Artist’s imagery help visualize important points in Apollo 11’s flight, such as docking, separation and descent. Last, many wonderful photographs and video cuts position the reader back to this inspiring time as men first walked the lunar surface.

By being precise, Godwin has ably written a guide for space enthusiasts. Sufficient details allow the reader to grasp the immensity of the endeavour without being overpowered by minutiae. The historical lead-in smoothly sets the scene of the Apollo era. Facts and data corroborate the magnitude. And, the photographs leave no doubt that the program did have men successfully go to the Moon and return. Some shortcuts are evident; there’s no table of contents nor index. Also, many of the images don’t have credits, though we can safely guess that most if not all are direct from NASA. Nevertheless, given the hour or so to read, this guide will sit comfortably with many young space dreamers.

Also, as found on the review copy, there’s a slip cover advertising the IMAX film ‘Magnificent Desolation’. The film relives many of the moments from all the Apollo missions and is thus a great companion to the guide (or vice versa).

For many, short newsclips are the sole window to the ever changing world about them. Equally brief guides might be all that some can or want to invest into history, no matter how recent. Robert Godwin in his pocket space guide Apollo 11 satisfies this need in his clear and colourful review of the Apollo program’s first successful lunar lander.

Review by Mark Mortimer

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Being female makes for some basic biological differences. But as proven time and again, women have proven themselves capable to undertake and satisfactorily complete the same tasks as done by men. Given that piloting vehicles is less about strength and more about coordination and intuition, some would happily wager that women should excel in this role. However, because flight grew up as a tool of war and war has been a strictly male domain, women have always been at the periphery looking in. The insipient space industry also arose from a military foundation, hence, again men made decisions and prepared designs for themselves. Thus, though many women had the capability and desire to contribute, few opportunities arose for their participation in space.

Even though much could be said on the participation, or lack thereof, of women in space, Shayler and Moule’s book focuses solely on the achievements. The little seagull, Valentina Tereshkova, was the first woman to fly into space, but predecessors abounded. In acknowledging this, Shayler and Moule take the reader on a history lesson. They go to the 1700’s, when women astronomers were making their mark by flying in Montgolfier styled balloons. Parachuting, gliding and powered flight quickly succumbed to their skills. As most of these accomplishments could be achieved by an individual, women could and did do as they wished. This history review, though brief, amply demonstrates the ability of women.

In a juxtaposition, the book shows how, once society’s morality came into play, women were no longer equal players. That is, they were involved because of their sex, principally shown by the USSR in their program. The authors, however, stay with the facts by noting cosmonaut selection and training. After providing the backgrounds of many of these hopefuls, and the successful Valentina herself, Shayler and Moule switch back to the program of the United States. In an attempt to be broadly inclusive or perhaps to fill in a sorry lack of participation, they broaden their extent of achievements. There’s the female computers doing orbital trajectories as well as seamstresses who sewed flight suits and Skylab’s reflector. However, in using old phone books for identification, the authors let slip the narration and in consequence the book transposes into a series of lists rather than a discussion of accomplishments.

For example, much is made of Nichelle Nichols, better known as Uhura of Star Trek fame. True, she was prominent in early outreach programs for females but she did not directly contribute. There’s also description of the families and spouses of male astronauts. It wasn’t until the space shuttle era that women entered the mainstream. Sadly, here again, the authors trivialize their work by filling up much of the remainder of the book with data sheets. Using NASA Query Book and Press Kit factoids, they list every female who has flown on the space shuttle (or Soyuz), their technical background and their mission tasks. They go so far as identifying which shuttle seat they occupied during launch and return. Listing of minor roles, such as organizing flight shirts, clearly shows that the authors let NASA’s dogma dictate the contents. They neglect their own narrative abilities, which they ably showed in the earlier chapters.

By staying narrowly focussed on achievements, the author’s missed writing a great book rather than the good book they did write. They should have surmised on the precepts of a society that kept females in support roles while men achieved the glory. They alluded to but did not support the premise that shuttle crews would no longer include females so society would grieve less should another disaster occur. Does this mean men are more expendable? Sadly, their book never rises to this occasion.

There is no doubt that in most fields women are every bit as capable as men. The aerospace frontier is no exception. Women in Space by David Shayler and Ian Moule lists the women and their achievements as they and space flight increased in capability. From flying in balloons to piloting the space shuttle, they’re all in this book with great praise to their contributions.

Review by Mark Mortimer

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Miss Henrietta Swan Leavitt obtained work at Harvard Observatory to review photographic plates. These were coming in fast and furious from the many large observatories being built in the Americas. These plates recorded the moment, but humans needed to interpret the dots. Small differences may be due to atmospheric effects, telescope adjustments, emulsion reactions or human intervention. Yet interpreting dots was considered an unworthy task for men, so women like Miss Leavitt were paid about minimum wage to spend hours every day looking at these plates, comparing each against another and against various metrics. With their effort, characteristics were catalogued for tens of thousands of stars.

The biography of a human computer sounds dry without even cracking open a book’s cover. Their task would simply be onerous repetition of the mundane. However, Johnson puts little time describing this aspect of Leavitt’s life. Actually, as Johnson acknowledges, there’s precious little remaining that describes Leavitt at all. Almost no first hand records exist. Most documents are second hand in nature and regard her circumstances from a very business like view. For example, either the observatory director or another astronomer would write discussing Leavitt’s work, her results and interest for future work. Johnson even had to dig into census data to discover where she lived and with whom. With such a dearth of information, Johnson has had to expand upon writing a biography so he adds a good look at the venture directly related to Leavitt’s work, the estimation of the size of the universe.

As such, Johnson smoothly takes the reader on a journey through parallax measurements, red-blue shifting, luminosity, galaxies and variables. Certainly there’s Leavitt’s discovery published in 1908 where she noted that brighter variables have longer periods. This observation came in a publication that gave a full account of 1777 variables in the Magellanic Cloud, and was so entitled. We also read of Shapely’s and Curtis’s debate in 1920 on whether the Milky Way was the universe or whether the Milky Way was just one typical galaxy amongst others. Eventually Edwin Hubble used Leavitt’s relationship of Cepheid variables to show that Barnard’s Galaxy was over 700 000 light years away and certainly outside the realm of the Milky Way. Johnson then ends the book with a discussion of Hubble’s constant that relates a galaxy’s velocity to its distance.

As one can tell, this book is much more than just about Leavitt. There’s some mention of her childhood, her accommodations and relatives. There’s also some information about her vacation travels, her frequent time off for convalescence and the on-set of her deafness. Johnson does add nice touches about society at the time, such as Leavitt completing the requirements for a Bachelor of Arts degree, but because she wasn’t male, she could only get a certificate. He also notes the better known information, such as her epic in 1914 on the North Polar Sequence, which at 84 pages defined 96 stars for use as a standard for all astronomers. But as most of this could have been done in a small number of pages, Johnson ably and expansively enlarges this biography to include the topic that so dominated Leavitt’s work.

Therefore, though the title may be a bit misleading, this book does an admirable job at presenting Leavitt’s life and especially her life’s interest. As well, Johnson wrote all astronomical details from a generalist’s point of view which can easily be understood by anyone without training. Corollaries are common and clear. The occasional wandering in the subject adds to the reading rather than distracts the reader. The few pictures help visualize the main characters, while the adherence to the subject keeps the book tight and informative.

Computers will do what they’re told. But they can’t step back and deduce patterns nor generalize. Humans excel at this function and George Johnson in his book, Miss Leavitt’s Stars, presents the benefit all astronomers owe to Miss Henrietta Swan Leavitt, the human computer who first came to understand the relationship between the periodicity of Cepheid variables and their distance. His book shows she was a special person who admirably worked above the call of duty to augment our knowledge one step further.

Review by Mark Mortimer

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High risk activities and aerospace are almost synonymous. Failures do occur. Who will ever forget the Hubble Telescope’s erroneously ground mirror? More visually spectacular are the launchers that explode immediately after launch, as did a Delta II in 1997. There’s also the high gain antenna of the Galileo spacecraft, which never opened, or the resounding thud of the Genesis spacecraft when its re-entry parachute failed. Not all are design errors, as the first accredited space collision saw the Cerise mircosatellite get decapitated. Less awe inspiring are ones like NOAA’s N-Prime, which was allowed to slip off its work platform within the factory. Successes do keep us trying, but the failures keep us cautious.

Writing about space failures can easily slip into grandiose hyperbole, but Dave Harland and Ralph Lorenz don’t go there. Their mission is to preserve a little of the industry knowledge that keeps sliding away when mentors retire or experts seek new pastures. Their book has two parts, both of which focus entirely on satellites and space probes, to the omission of manned flights.

The first part takes a chronological look at launchers, most of their failures, as well as much of their evolution. A quick synopsis for the 1950s converges onto the Ariane, Atlas and Delta systems of today. Not forgotten are foreign and niche market players like the Long March, Japan’s H series and OSC’s Pegasus. Very little mention is made of the USSR’s efforts. Sections examine each launcher in turn, often with the inclusion of significant dates and particular failures. For the failures, sometimes the authors identify the errant sub-system, but not often. Also, the topic can wander, as when talking about the economies of data relay systems or describing satellite repair during the early shuttle program. In all, this section is a good synopsis of launcher evolution and accompanying failures.

The second part of the book goes through various systems of satellites and space probes that have failed. Instead of using a chronological separation, the authors make divisions by system according to root causes; either propulsion, electrical, or other. As corrective measures can be found, the authors also describe many of the work-arounds. For example, an ingenious recovery team sent HGS 1 on lunar flybys en route to a geostationary orbit. In acknowledgement of these near miraculous events, the authors continually stress that the extremes of space make a broad and deep support team rewarding, if not essential.

As well, throughout the book, the authors attempt to instill some reasoning into risk management. In particular, how does one balance over-engineering against under-funding? The occasional arm chair warrior statement arises, such how $2 worth of a better grade of metal would have saved months of a ground crew’s diligent rescue efforts. Some process improvements get mentioned, such as managers who reward individuals for raising design problems at any stage of a mission. But, this book is much more a recitation of the facts and often the underlying causes.

Though the authors do stay on topic, side issues arise. For example, they discuss the effects on insurance agencies when a series of failures occur. Then there’s the discussion on the suitability of space walkers using the shuttle to fix satellites, the result being the practise was deemed not cost effective. As a result of all the data and many photographs, the reader will quickly appreciate the challenges that come with any space activity and the continual progress being made in the industry. Nevertheless with this book readers will still just be grazing the edge of the fields of risk management and quality control rather than becoming proficient in either.

Reading a book on failure is not for the faint of heart. But far better it is to be a little faint of heart than being ignorant of the challenges. David Harland and Ralph Lorenz in their book Space Systems Failures present the darker side that counters our thrust into space. Critical failures can quickly arise due to the myriad of logic switches, the demands of mechanical systems and the exactness of computer code. However, as long as we keep learning from our mistakes, our hearts will keep strengthening.

Review by Mark Mortimer

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This book shows humans’ natural curiosity, their need to find out what is beyond their limits. Its premise is that exploring is good because it often leads to many new discoveries. This book also shows that when people ask questions, or when you are asking questions yourself, in a way you are exploring. Asking questions is like looking at something and knowing that there is something else to it. Exploring further extends your knowledge. So the next time someone is curious about what you’re doing or they are asking you a million questions, remember they are “exploring” and addressing a natural curiosity.

Each page of this picture book depicts one person questioning another on why they explore. When travelling is involved, the one staying behind argues that everything is O.K. right here so why travel? Fear of the unknown and its dangers keeps them home bound. For the ones leaving, the excitement of going, the fun of experimenting and the opportunity for a fresh start are what give them the impetus. The resonance of the book is that for people, it is natural to crave answers and to explore.

Understanding one’s own body and emotions is one of the greatest undertakings of any human. Whether young or old, they are always learning about themselves. Children, with their knack for asking the obvious, can shed more insight than a hundred doctoral candidates. As well, in helping children understand themselves, we understand ourselves better. This is the viewpoint taken by Lendroth and Moreiro. They show there is no one answer to the question, ‘Why Explore?”. Simply, for some there are many more advantages than in not exploring. The bigger quandary, though unaddressed, is why we keep questioning, why do we continually expect more.

A young child, 5 or 6 years old, would likely really enjoy reading this book with a learned adult. The large format, with reproductions of oil paintings filling every page’s background, makes for a visual treat. The short, rhyming text adds a sense of wonder and pleasure to challenging words like sharecropping and electron scattering. As children tend to be more curious with less patience, the few words and vivid art work would most likely well entertain them.

Picture books can teach children to count or recognize the primary colours. But more demanding books are those that try to broach the subject of emotions. Exploring and curiosity are such emotions and Susan Lendroth and Enrique Moreiro in their book Why Explore? comfortably and clearly let an older person discuss this concept with a younger one. After all, many of us, for whatever reason are not satisfied with the options at hand and are darn sure things could be better.

Review by Mark, Ariana and Lorelei Mortimer

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Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar, or Chandra, was a child prodigy in India. Straight from excelling at undergraduate school in the depths of India, he entered the cool, damp climes of Cambridge University. With few compatriots and little experience in the ways of English university rapport, he tried his best to add something useful. Excelling in mathematics and wanting to make a mark, he entered into the relatively new field of astrophysics. In particular, he established a mathematical basis for the degeneration of stars. The problem, of course, was that on the death of too large a star, the math showed that a death-knell implosion would lead to an infinite amount of mass in a negligible volume. As physicists had accepted that nature abhors vacuums and infinites, no one supported Chandra’s results, even though they agreed with the mathematics. Only 40 years later, with advances in knowledge together with the detection of the signatures of black holes in space, did Chandra get vindicated. Though he lived to see this result, given the initial umbrage, especially from Sir Arthur Eddington, Chandra was less than pleased.

Bringing the human dimension into scientific discovery can be fascinating. Arthur Miller depicts this well on delivering his review of the reception of Chandra’s calculations for the degeneration of white dwarfs. Chandra was a ‘wet behind the ears’ new graduate who believed in the scientific method for establishing or disproving theories. Implying this, Miller then shows that Chandra met formidable and conjectural resistance from the accepted world expert and fellow Cambridge astrophysicist Sir Arthur Eddington. Miller recovers details from original documentation showing how Chandra had the verbal support from most if not all the preeminent practitioners of the field like Bohr, Dirac, and Pauli. But none wrote any support for Chandra, for concern, as Miller put it, of crossing Eddington.

As evidenced by over 50 pages of referenced material, Miller provides credible details of the happenings of 70 years ago. He was hampered in that the estate of Sir Arthur Eddington had long ago destroyed almost all his personal papers. Further, Chandra usually worked solo, so few others could provide descriptions of his character. Because of this, Miller dedicates only one chapter to Chandra, describing his early years, while another describes Eddington’s. Thus, he makes up for a lack of personal information by providing details on the many other people who kept filling in the puzzle regarding black holes. Often a page or two will give personal experiences, like Karl Schwarzschild’s time in the front lines, or Yakov Zel’dovich playing catch with a medicine ball. Sometimes he goes far afield by including anecdotes of commuters who took the long way to Los Alamos via a bar in Mexico. However, these snippets add pleasant colour to this historical synopsis. As such, the centre of the book contains more a series of personalities and their contributions rather than relevance to Chandra and Eddington.

Because of this, Miller falls a bit flat on his original postulation that Eddington’s displeasure with Chandra’s presentation in 1935 held the field of astrophysics back for 40 years. Rather, Miller, in later chapters, indicates that Chandra maintained a voluminous production of highly regarded mathematics, garnering most of the top awards which cumulated in a Nobel prize. Further, Miller shows a steady progress in astrophysics. That is, though Chandra’s mathematical speculations weren’t accepted, experimenters kept advancing our understanding. It seems Miller joined two ideas into one book. One examines the interaction between Eddington and Chandra. The other reviews the chronological steps in astrophysics, particularly regarding star degeneration. The sum is a personable history of late twentieth century astrophysics with particular emphasis on two early contributors.

Some people naturally have gifts that lend themselves to scientific explanation. However, people come with a complete suite of less than stellar personalities. As such, theorists can have a really rough time until practitioners catch up. Arthur Miller in Empire of the Stars describes the trying time of Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar who believed in black holes long before any evidence arose. But Miller shows how experimenters did catch up to this theorist who was looking so far ahead of most everyone else.

Review by Mark Mortimer

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When Lawrence Krauss was a boy he watched an episode of the Twilight Zone in which a girl gets lost in another dimension. Although the show was finished within half an hour the idea of extra dimensions has not escaped the mind of the author ever since. Krauss has become one of the leading experts in cosmology and particle physics as well as a prolific writer of several novels already, the most famous of which is The Physics of Star Trek. It would be difficult to find a better qualified guide to take the reader through the new worlds the book explores.

The first stop is Flatland: the odd world imagined in 1884 by Edwin A. Abbott which has only two dimensions. Krauss explains the philosophical and mathematical underpinnings of the story and describes the scientific research going on during the time by describing the work of contemporaries such as Faraday and Maxwell. He continues by going back and forth between the cultural and scientific viewpoints of the age, which gives the reader a firm foundation in what is needed to understand the later chapters. This method also ensures that the reader does not become bored from too many pages spent on French philosophers for example or too overwhelmed in order to understand the nuances of topics like special relativity. Krauss has also mastered the art of introducing material so a beginner in the subject can understand it with relative ease and also present the information in a fresh way that does not bore a reader already well versed on the topic. In this manner the book progresses through the most important points of modern physics and cosmology in a well-explained and creative manner that will not bore the reader in the least.

The last third of the book is devoted to the most recent cosmological implications of extra dimensions, which includes such exotic topics like quantum mechanics and string theory. The going in these chapters is more difficult simply because of the difficulty of the information presented: you are dealing with topics theoretical physicists spend lifetimes grappling with so the knowledge requires a bit more pause for retrospect on the part of the reader. The topics are still well explained, however, so if you want to gain an understanding of many of the current issues in physics and cosmology you will be hard-pressed to find a better primer.

The book finally concludes with an essay on Krauss’ own views on the topic of extra dimensions, most notably in the area of string theory. After patiently explaining all their possibilities from science to philosophy throughout the book, Krauss admits that he is an agnostic because of the lack of physical proof that science requires by definition. His explanation of the scientific method and the value of skepticism are wonderfully refreshing to any empirically minded reader.

Make no mistake: Hiding in the Mirror, through its writing style and beliefs on the role of science in society, will touch the reader as having more than a few Sagan-like qualities within the text and is certainly one of the best works by Lawrence Krauss to date. It is an enchanting examination of our relationship with worlds hiding just beyond our perception, and will leave any reader with a better understanding of the universes, real or tangible, around them.

Review by Yvette Cendes, an undergraduate physics major at Case Western Reserve University.

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