Wordful Wednesday: Fermat’s Last Theorem
Seems like I’ve been reading more fiction than non-fiction lately, but I’m back on the non-fiction bandwagon now (well, okay, so I’ve got two fiction titles out from the library in progress, and another in the wings).
I was very much a math-n-science guy in high school, and even more so in college. But I was never your classic Techo, as I rather enjoyed (at least in college) my humanities classes. But I was good at math and science, so engineering seemed like the way to go for me.
And I’ve never lost my interest in science, as evidenced by the number of science-related titles I’ve been reading lately. (Actually, I just checked, and the number isn’t exactly amazing or anything, but it’s a good mix. And if Linguistics/Grammar counts…no, it doesn’t, so never mind.)
Anyhow, rare is the Math title I read. In fact, apart from the one I just finished, I only have one other Math title in my database (Five Equations That Changed the World, which is really more about the science behind the equations).
All of which brings me to today’s all-math-without-a-science-tie-in title, Fermat's Last Theorem: Unlocking the Secret of an Ancient Mathematical Problem, by Amir 
D. Aczel.
I’ve written before that I prefer short topic science books, and that rule applies equally if not more to math books. At around 160 pages, this one was definitely on the short side. But I’m not sure I’d have wanted more (another title on the same topic ran 300+, which is generally too long for my taste on such subjects).
Aczel’s title, short though it was, made a good survey of the history of Fermat’s Last Theorem. Which I suppose I should discuss at least a bit.
Pierre de Fermat published a lot of theorems, as did many mathematicians of his time. Through time, other mathletes proved (or disproved) all but one of them, which he claimed had a “truly marvelous proof.” Which, of course, he never published.
Jump forward three hundred years, and it still hadn’t been proven. (Star Trek: The Next Generation writers even went out on a limb and featured Picard puzzling over it in the 24th Century.)
Many mathematicians never attempted a proof of the theorem, because it’s purely an in-house problem (meaning in has no application outside pure math). The really interesting thing is that the pursuit of the proof of the theorem resulted in many useful side theories.
The book surveys those theories and the mathematical concepts behind them, going all the way back to ancient Babylon for the roots of the theorem. Of course, in such a short work, the narrative doesn’t linger in any one place for long, but it’s a nice collection of stories along the way.
The math gets a bit hard to follow when the book gets to things like number fields and elliptic curves, but it doesn’t dwell over-long even there.
(By the way, I don’t think it’d spoil the surprise for anyone to reveal that the book starts and finishes with Dr. Andrew Wiles proving the theorem at Cambridge in 1993. And re-proving it again after a hole was found in his original work.)
If nothing else, this book showed me just how little I know about math. I’m fine in algebra, trig, geometry, and calculus, but beyond that I get pretty fuzzy (well, I did pull a 97 in Differential Equations and a B in Linear Algebra, but that’s as far as I got).
The topic was interesting, but I’m not sure I’d like to read a longer work on it, though I’ve read that there are some in that category that are miles better than the little one I just finished. But I’m willing to accept that and move on.
Next up: Slan, by A.E. Van Vogt.
MM: Doubleheader, September?, Yelling, Amazing Race 15
Ethan’s Fall Ball team had a doubleheader on Sunday, with both games against the same team. The first game resulted in a tie (13-13), and the second game was a narrow 16-13 defeat. But the boys played well. We even recorded a 1-2-3 inning. No base runners allowed is quite a feat at this level.
Ethan got some time as a position player this time, and made two outs at first base (one on a routine grounder the pitcher fielded and threw to Ethan, the other a line drive to Ethan).
HE ALSO GOT HIS FIRST BASE HIT!!! In the course of the two games, he reached base at least three times (I’m trying not to be obsessive, so I haven’t been writing it down or anything). He doubled, had a base hit and advanced on an error, and walked at least once (I think).
He also flailed wildly at a couple of dirt-scraping pitches, because by then he felt like he could hit anything. Now hopefully he knows better.
(Of course, Ethan credits his shiny new bat. His old tee-ball bat was getting pretty dinged up from hitting baseballs.)
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By the way, speaking of baseball, is this really late September? Because my whole left side is burned to a crisp on account of coaching first base for two straight games.
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The sun was probably not a factor in my being somewhat hoarse. That would be from all the yelling and screaming at my base runners. My favorite comment from a player, who required an extraordinary amount of encouragement to take second base on a passed ball:
“I didn’t know you were talking to me.”
I guess the fact that he was on first base and I was the First Base Coach didn’t add up to “he’s talking to me.”
I shouldn’t actually be surprised, I suppose, as this is the same kid who, when I shouted that he should be covering second base (when he was playing second base), actually pointed at himself as if to say, “Me?”
I guess that baseball instincts have to be taught. Evidently the teaching involves quite a bit of yelling.
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And finally, a non-baseball topic: The Amazing Race 15 is now on the air. I remember watching the first season and hoping the ratings would be good enough that they’d do a second. Rinse and repeat for the next two seasons.
I guess the ratings are good enough now that it’ll stick around awhile.
Oh, and I’m not sure how I’d have done with the Wasabi Bomb. Ed would’ve done that Road Block, I think…
Fiction Friday: Colossus
You may be aware that I’m a science fiction fan. In fact, my current favorite book is a science fiction title (Speaker for the Dead).
So naturally, I subscribe to SciFi Wire to get all the latest news relating in any way to science fiction. Well, back in August, SciFi Wire featured an old video of Harlan Ellison (whose work I’ve read and enjoyed and puzzled over) on a panel discussing the difference between science fiction and sci-fi.
Basically it boiled down to science fiction being a literary genre in which issues of technology’s impact on humans is discussed, and sci-fi means movies or books with bugs or aliens. I’ll embed the video at the end of the post.
Mr. Ellison inspired me to check out an author I’d never heard of, but that will have to be another post (I have the book, but haven’t read it yet).
YouTube has these wonderful “related videos” that are so inviting that I couldn’t help but click one of them, titled The Ten Best Science Fiction Films. Here’s the list:
- 2001: The Space Oddyssy
- Quatermass and the Pit
- Forbidden Planet
- Metropolis
- Invasion of the Body Snatchers
- Colossus: The Forbin Project
- The Day the Earth Stood Still
- A Boy and His Dog
- Planet of the Apes
- Silent Running
I’ve only seen a couple of these films. I actually love Planet of the Apes (even though the book is better), and The Day the Earth Stood Still is rightfully a classic. 2001 is, I believe, the most baffling film I’ve ever seen, and I remain convinced that people pretend to either like or understand it. I’ve also seen two versions of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and they were both worth seeing.
For some reason, Colossus: The Forbin Project stood out to me. Perhaps it was because it starred Eric Braeden, who I enjoyed very much in Escape From the Planet of the Apes.
So when I found out it was based on a novel, I just had to pick it up. And I’m glad I did. Because Colossus, by D.F. Jones, is extremely well written and gripping, if a bit dated.
The book starts with Dr. Charles Forbin traveling to the White House to inform the President of the USNA (United States of North America) that Colossus is ready to go online. Colossus is a computer with complete autonomous control of the nation’s defenses and surveillance equipment.
One of Dr. Forbin’s objects in creating Colossus was to eliminate war by removing the crucial element of human emotion from tactical decisions. And he succeeds better than he intended.
Forbin is actually reticent about turning Colossus on, but the President won’t hear any objections and gives the order. Then he gives a press conference, revealing the existence of Colossus and even telling the world where it is. Because Colossus is so well constructed (into a mountain), there is no fear of sabotage or attack.
Soon after the press conference, Colossus reveals that it has detected another machine of its type, in Russia. The Russians do not deny the fact, but announce their machine to the world.
And then it gets interesting. Colossus wants to talk to Guardian (the Russian machine) and demands that communication lines be constructed. Forbin realizes he has no choice and complies.
The machines begin to establish a common language through derivations of math, far exceeding the knowledge of humans in the process. Which, of course, frightens the humans. They cut the communication lines, which prompts a response. Demanding the lines be restored, both Colossus and Guardian launch missiles.
Of course, the humans comply, but too late to stop the missile headed for Russia. Two thousand people die.
Forbin, the President, and the leadership of the USSR realize that Colossus and Guardian are now a danger to humanity and set out to disable them. Of course, they’ve done their job of designing them too well, and their method of fighting back will take years to implement.
Colossus suspects a plot and begins to order executions of key people on both sides. With the force of nuclear obliteration on his side, Colossus gets his way. He cages Forbin, demanding 24/7 surveillance of the designer.
Forbin comes to realize that he had wanted to remove human emotion from the equation, and he succeeded. There is no anger and no fear, but also no empathy or compassion in Colossus.
Colossus is a tale that’s been told over and over, about man reaching too far into technology and trusting his own genius too far. Comparisons with Skynet from The Terminator are valid, although Colossus never actually decides to exterminate mankind (due to them not being perceived as much of a threat).
I won’t reveal the ending of the book, but I’ll say that I really liked how it ended. And I particularly enjoyed the discussions of how humans might view a machine intelligence. Would they fear it? Hate it? Love it? Worship it?
The entire movie is actually viewable on YouTube, and it’s fairly faithful to the book, diverging in a couple of unimportant ways. And Eric Braeden is perfect as Dr. Forbin.
One thing I found amusing was the science in this science fiction book. The author rightly predicted that human technology would move from the vacuum tube to the transistor to something else, but he failed to look very far ahead in the realm of communication. In fact, all communications with Colossus in the book and film were done with teletype.
But I suppose I can hardly fault the author for not predicting the fax and the Internet. Still, it’s kind of funny to see the mixture of right and wrong predictions.
(I just found out there’s a trilogy of Colossus books, but I’m not sure I’ll pick up any of the rest of the series. I liked the way it ended in book one.)
At some point I’ll get to reading the other book I picked up because of Mr. Ellison (edit: I’ve just started it). But I thought I’d include the YouTube here:
And here’s the article referred to in the video.
Wordful Wednesday: How to Survive Anything
I've mentioned before that a good percentage of books I read aren't ones I specifically set out to pick up, but ones I noticed and thought, "I've got to look at that one." The Library RSS feed for new materials is a rich source of those books, which I could call "circumstantial reading."
The Boys' Book of Survival: How to Survive Anything, Anywhere, by Guy Campbell, is a circumstantial book in every way. I requested it from the Library, gave it a 
thumb-through when I picked it up, and thought, "I probably won't read it."
Then, I realized that I'd have a bit of reading time during Ethan's swim practice, but I didn't want anything too engrossing. With short chapters on interesting topics, this little yellow book was just the ticket.
And I read more than half of its 125 pages during the practice. And then I finished it before going to sleep. It's the very definition of light reading. (Notice I didn't say it was literally light reading, because that would be abuse of the word “literally”. See here for more).
Some of the chapters I'd actually like to try. Like the one on how to build a fire with a firebow. Or how to make a shelter (actually, I've done that one before). Or how to desalinate water with two pots. Or how to use a watch as a compass.
And then there are the *other* chapters. Like "How to Survive a Zombie Invasion." At that point, we've lapsed from helpful if tongue-in-cheek advice to just tongue-in-cheek. Those chapters, and some of the other ones you might think could've been semi-serious resemble nothing if not How to Survive a Robot Uprising.
Okay, true, so it’s probably unlikely that a boy will ever need to survive a Zombie Invasion or an Alien Attack, but he’s very likely to encounter a Giant Zit and an Essay Crisis, so not all the funny chapters are rubbish.
MM: Reading
Quick post here.
I try to maintain a pretty good clip in my reading. By that, I mean that I shoot for a book a week, or at least to average that pace.
And I'm officially there for the year. I finished number fifty-two today, so anything else I finish from here on out puts me at 1+ per week.
Sweet.
Fiction Friday: The Hunger Games
Yes, okay, technically the other two book reviews I've posted this week were also fiction. But it's Friday! How can I not go with alliteration? It's true I may have a disorder that demands I alliterate over and over again. We'll call it Iterative Alliteration Disorder. Anyhoo...
It seems everyone else has read The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins, so I figured it was high time I did it. The fact that the sequel is currently out is a good thing, too, because that way I don’t have to wait for it (but since it’s a trilogy, I suppose there’s no rush).
I’ve described it to curious friends (and my wife, who didn’t ask) as The Running 
Man, but with kids. Which is puzzling for a supposedly Young Adult book. But, there’s no language and no sex, so what are a few spearings and shootings?
It’s not really a criticism, as the book is far from gory.
The setup is quite simple: Bad stuff has happened in North America, and The Capitol has risen to power and brought order to the once fragile continent. As long as you’re in The Capitol. The rest of the country is divided into districts, and the further out you get, the rougher life is.
Add to that the fact that the government holds a lottery of sorts (called The Reaping), in which two adolescents (called tributes) are selected from each of the twelve districts to compete in an outdoor last-man-standing competition (called The Hunger Games).
That’s right: Twenty-four kids go in, one comes out alive.
Our protagonist, Katniss Everdeen (16 years old) volunteers when her younger sister is selected. Another boy, who once helped Katniss when her family was starving, is also selected.
So now we have two sympathetic characters and we have to root for one of them to kill the other at some point. It plays with your head a bit. In order to root for the protagonist, you have to cheer for her to kill all the others, or at least live on after they all die off.
Because Katniss’s rough life in District Twelve prepares her for the deprivation and brutality of the Games.
How do the Games work? Do you form alliances, knowing that eventually you’ll have to turn on each other? Do you become something you really aren’t? What kind of a government would do this?
(It seems way out there, but it’s not like we’ve never had government-sponsored brutality.)
The book is told from Katniss’s perspective, in the first person. So we never really know what’s going on in anyone else’s head. Which would be nice, especially when Peeta (the District Twelve boy) seems to betray his fellow tribute.
I won’t spoil anything about the rest of the plot, except to say that there’s a sequel. Make of that what you will.
The book is very exciting, and I never got even slightly bored with the narrative. I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the series.
Wordful Wednesday: A Treasury of Children’s Literature
(Scheduled post whiffed again. Better late than never.)
We realized at some point that Ethan’s education in Fairy Tales and Fantasy Stories has been somewhat lacking. And then I saw that A Treasury of Children’s Literature, edited by Armand Eisen, was on our Recommended Reads list, and also in our Home Library.
So now Ethan has a nice background in American Tales, such as John Henry, Paul 
Bunyan, and (his favorite by a mile) Br’er Rabbit. He’s also gotten a smattering of Hans Christian Anderson (The Emperor’s New Clothes a clear winner here) and Aesop’s Fables and traditional tales like Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk, and the Three Billy Goats Gruff.
There are also a couple of short sections of nursery rhymes, and I’ll admit I still don’t get why anyone should be interested in the goings-on of the Cat with the Fiddle or a moon-jumping cow. But it was nice that Ethan recognized Humpty Dumpty when he was featured on Ace of Cakes.
The one real sour note in the collection was a section of excerpts from larger works. I’m sure that Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is excellent, and I’d actually like to read The Wind in the Willows, but how is a young child supposed to enjoy an excerpt from something taken completely out of context?
(Okay, true, Ethan liked the short bit from Peter Pan.)
So now I guess we can go to Enchanted Forest and enjoy ourselves.
Toss-up Tuesday: I, Robot – Screenplay
Have I utterly cast aside Too Funny Tuesdays? Maybe. Right now I’m all about book reviews, so that’s what I’m doing.
Perhaps you’ve seen the movie erroneously known as I, Robot, with Will Smith. I’ve seen it and somewhat enjoyed it, but it’s not I, Robot. Really, it’s not. The “book” the film was “based on” was actually a collection of Isaac Asimov’s robot-themed short stories. And they’re terrific.
(By the way, the audio version with Scott Brick is one of my favorite audio books.)
Just don’t expect to find Will Smith’s character in any of the stories. That’s right, Del Spooner, robotophobe cop, is not an Asimov creation. He probably draws some of his character from Elijah Bailey, a cop from Asimov’s Robot Novels, and some of the plot seems to come from The Caves of Steel.
This isn’t really a rant on movies being different from books. It happens, and sometimes you end up with a good movie and a great book, even though they only share a title. The Count of Monte Cristo is a good example. Enjoy both. Just don’t expect them to be anything like similar.
The problem here is that there was an excellent screenplay that could have, no, should have been made into a faithful adaptation of the original I, Robot stories. In which Susan Calvin wasn’t just eye candy (in fact, she’s characterized as quite 
plain), but was the main character.
Harlan Ellison wrote it (in the 70s), and Asimov loved it. And movie producers dropped the ball.
I, Robot: The Illustrated Screenplay isn’t perfect, of course. Every fan of the original stories probably has a favorite, and one of mine didn’t make it into this screenplay. And the character featured in it is given somewhat short shrift. And he’s an important character. And some of the climax of the screenplay was confusing.
Still, the screenplay works and is totally filmable with today’s technology. It just didn’t happen. And it’s a real shame.
This was the first screenplay I’ve read, and I probably won’t read many others. It took some getting used to the different formatting, but after the adjustment, it was fairly easy to read.
Asimov and Ellison’s introductions to the work and particularly Ellison’s screed about the stupid movie producers were also worth reading.
MM: Camping, Fall Ball, Football
Last week, we went camping with a bunch of other homeschoolers at Fort Stevens. It’s really quite lovely to go on vacation right when everybody else goes back to school, and we even got pretty good weather. (Much better than the rain the weekend campers evidently got.)
We got to use our new tent (used twice for backyard camping, but now officially broken in), new camp stove (Ramen, Grilled Cheese and Canned Soup – Lentil, and Pancakes were cooked thereon), and all that other New Stuff we got specifically for this trip.
And now it’s all inventoried and packed away in the garage for our next trip, which we feel will involve less equipment acquisition. We have the stuff, and it’s ready to get thrown in the back of the van.
Ethan had an absolute blast playing with his friends and sleeping in the tent (we even got upgraded to one of the Yurt sites for one night!).
Of course, camping at Fort Stevens isn’t exactly roughing it, as there’s plenty of drinkable (if less-than-tasty) water and bathrooms and showers. But it still counts as camping, and I didn’t shave or anything, so that makes it more realerer, right?
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After Ethan finished his Coach Pitch Baseball experience, we discovered the existence of Reedville Fall Baseball, also known as Fall Ball. The conversation with Ethan went something like this: 
Us: "Ethan, we might be able to get you into Fall Baseball. Would you rather do soccer again or…"
Ethan: “Baseball!”
Well, he had his first Fall Ball game on Sunday, and he was the starting pitcher. We figured he might be nervous, but he absolutely ate it up. The first inning wasn’t so great, as our team didn’t record an out before the bad guys scored their maximum per-inning total of five runs.
But Ethan put the ball over the plate quite a bit and even induced a ground ball that might’ve been turned into an out.
The second inning was another story, though. He allowed another ground ball to second. Alas, it didn’t turn into an out, and the runner eventually came around to score on a passed ball (pretty much all baserunners steal second, third, and home).
But Ethan’s line for the inning was this, in baseballese: 1 IP, 0H, R, 2K
Now allow me to translate: one inning pitched, no hits (the one groundball would go as an error rather than a hit), one run, two strikeouts. (I won’t reproduce the line for the first inning because it wasn’t as pretty.)
But the best part was how the inning ended. With two out and nobody on, the batter swung at the first pitch and hit a popup between home and first. And Ethan snagged it for the third out, then ran back to the dugout. Here’s the video of his performance:
The Reds (Ethan’s team) did end up on the losing side (either 8-4 or 8-5), but that one inning was awesome. And our team only allowed the five-run-max one time.
The hitting didn’t go exactly according to plan, Ethan ending up with a walk and a strikeout (but it was swinging, which is better than looking). But we’ll work on that.
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I’ve written before of my general dislike of football. Nonetheless, I’ve consented to participate in a Fantasy Football League with some family members. I have not consented to really get into it. In fact, I’m still not sure how the whole thing works, and I didn’t watch any substantive amount of football over the weekend.
I watched tennis and baseball instead. I feel no remorse over this.
But I must rant a bit about football and how greedy it is: It can’t even finish on time. And it’s a game with a CLOCK!!! At least baseball has that excuse. No clock, no real way to predict how long a game will take. Football games have ONE HOUR of clock time to run down, and they still manage to overrun their three hour television slot. With regularity.
This isn’t limited to professional football, of course, and my rant is actually somewhat more targeted at College Football (which is an even bigger mystery to me than the NFL), which impacted my baseball viewing. This is unacceptable.
The NFL did run over and impact my tennis viewing. This is a problem that needs fixin’. But at least I know football will be done by early next year. That’s something. So here it is, the first week of football, and I’m ready for it to be over.
Though I’ll admit I was still glad the Seahawks won.
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Wordful Wednesday: Dead and Alive
Sometimes, when I’m not sure I want to read a book, I pick it up on audio from the Library. When I find that Scott Brick is the narrator, I normally know I will listen to it.
My younger older sister (she has a name that starts with “Meg”) recommended Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein around the time Book One hit paperback. For some reason, the title just didn’t thrill me.
I was wrong.
The trilogy, which includes Prodigal Son, City of Night, and now Dead and Alive is 
just plain fun. Well, okay, book one did revolve mainly around a sick and twisted serial killer and copycat. So that wasn’t all that much fun.
The premise for the series is simple: Dr. Frankenstein is real, and he’s still alive. As is his Monster (known as Deucalion in the books). And Frankenstein hasn’t stopped his work. Indeed, he’s building an army of extremely tough and compliant New Race to take over the world. Deucalion wants to stop him, and enlists the help of a pair of quirky New Orleans cops named Carson O’Conner and Michael Maddison (female and male, respectively, just to add a bit of tension – unnecessary in my opinion).
Sometimes a series is really more aptly described as one book in three parts (Timothy Zahn’s Conquerors series, for example). Not so in this case. The three titles stand, if not on their own, apart. The plots are connected in some way, but a major subplot is basically wrapped up in each book, while the larger arc continues.
The perspective of the series shifts from the cops, to Frankenstein (now known as Victor Helios), to several of the New Race, to Deucalion. But much of the plot is told from the cops’ perspective, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
See, I didn’t really like the cops. Yes, I know they really love each other and want to marry at some point. Yes, their banter is typical Koontzian Clever. But something didn’t quite connect me to them, even if they made me laugh out loud several times (and I'm not a big laugh-out-louder).
No, I much preferred the parts of the book in which the perspective was that of Deucalion or one of Helios’s minions.
One of the interesting questions raised by Koontz (and his co-authors, Kevin J. Anderson and Ed Gorman) is, “If you could live a thousand years but have no hope, what would that do to you?” Helios grows his New Race in tanks, educating/indoctrinating them by direct-to-brain data download, to have neither love nor belief in the transcendent.
Of course, some could imagine this is a good thing, but probably only in terms of a normal human lifespan. But over centuries? Millennia? Life without hope or love could get old quickly. Especially since Helios forbids his creations from taking their own lives (or for killing without his permission). And his control and will are unquestioned.
Or are they? Toward the end of Book One, we start to see cracks around the edges of the New Race. In Book Two, the cracks widen. In Book Three, the plot is basically all about the unraveling of Frankenstein's New Race. I liked the way it ended, and I won't give it away.
As I mentioned, I started taking in the series on audio mostly because Scott Brick was the narrator of Book One. He was not the narrator of Book Two, but John Bedford Lloyd did an able job (he played Jammer in The Abyss and I’ve listened to a couple of other titles read by him).
For Book Three, I requested both the book and the audio version. Both came in at the same time. So I’ll probably listen to it now that I’ve read it. My wife thinks I’m weird for considering this, but it’s a fairly short audio book.
Oddly, my paperback version was also a bit short. Or skinny. The pages were oddly narrow, as if a good quarter-to-three-eighths-inch of the book had been chopped off. Not enough to lose any text, but enough to make me feel like I was about to fall off the edge of each page.
Incidentally, I broke my No-Koontz-After-10pm rule for this one. With the exception of Book One, with the whole serial killer thing, this series wasn’t as scary as some Koontz gets. Eerie, perhaps, but not really disturbing. It might also be that I didn't expect any new creepies in a well-established series.
Eventually I should probably read the original Frankenstein. Not a bad idea, actually…I'll put it on my list for next year.