Month: February 2023

For anyone with even a passing interest in books as objects and (less so) repositories of creativity, “Portable Magic: A History of Books and Their Readers” is sure to delight. Indeed, as someone who has migrated wholesale to ebooks and still reads a dozen a month, I have to say that I disagree with her central thesis, that books are as potent in their physical form as they are in their content, but I still found this historical and conceptual journey an absolute treat. What distinguishes Portable Magic is the gloriousness of the author’s prose, the cadences and rhythms, the wry humor, the embodiment of wonder. It often seems like every page contains a gem of style or sparkling content. I waited until the closing chapters for Emma Smith’s views on the ebook and was gratified by the wise observation: “Until ebooks develop their own particular communicative rhetoric, design, and features, they seem to be shadows or supplements of the physical book, rather than its opposite.” Heartily recommended.”

“The Last of the Seven” is a historical WWII war adventure, that, despite inheriting the deathly tag of “based on a true story,” provides rattling action and Middle East/Italy atmosphere, while dabbling in lyricism that only occasionally misfires. The tale of a German-born Jew who thirsts for revenge against the Nazis, recruited to head up a band of similarly rage-consumed soldiers asked to exfiltrate a scientist from a missile base, is not afraid to dwell on the gaps of time between the horrific wartime action. The author is no Ondaatje (I was reminded of The English Patient) but is often a captivating stylist. As befits such a boy’s-own story, I read The Last of the Seven in a single sitting and can commend it.

“Euromissiles: The Nuclear Weapons That Nearly Destroyed NATO” sounds like an arcane topic but in the hands of a superb, engaging American historian proves to be an engrossing delight. It is the story of the 1960s-1980s intermediate-range nuclear weapons—the SS-20s, the Pershing-2s, the cruise missiles, titles that resonate with my memories but might mean little to younger readers—that were touted for the defense/offence of Europe at the “second” height of the Cold War (assuming the Cuban Missile Crisis represented the apogee). Weaving in an astonishing array of archival and other sources, the author relates how a strategy of “flexible response” drove European nations and the United States to develop new missiles; how this galvanized Europeans (and not only Europeans, I remember enlisting in the peace movement in Australia in the early 1980s) to protest; how the new missiles began to be deployed just as Gorbachev entered the scene; and how he and Reagan and later Bush ended up agreeing to junk the lot of them. The author conveys both the inner workings of NATO and the two superpowers over this period, and the on-the-ground political chaos in Europe. Written in a rhythmic, digestible style, and effortlessly ducking back and forth in time amidst the complexity, she has written one of those rare books: a robust history that will stand as a reference book and also an accessible drama for us normal readers. A chapter called “The Year of the Missile” is as riveting as a thriller. Euromissiles is a triumph.

Any Geraldine Brooks novel is a welcome event and “Horse,” a fictionalized biopic of famous American racehorse Lexington, overlaid with a modern story, is a rich treat of measured, intelligent prose. The current-day tale of a museum scientist and black art historian, revolving around mysterious paintings and bones, seems at first to be on the sidelines of the main storyline of Lexington and his slave groom in the 1850s, but the author meticulously braids all the strands together. I could not imagine anything about horse racing to hold interest but somehow Brooks not only renders that world fascinating but illuminates slavery and racism resonating over nearly two centuries. The characters, especially the three core ones and a charismatic rogue, all sparkle, and the author’s prose is seamless and affecting. Horse is an unexpected triumph.

A runaway hit, “Lessons in Chemistry” is a sparky, socially aware novel that centers on a single mother in the strait-laced America of the early 1960s. A dogged, resolutely rational scientist battling the forces of misogyny and patriarchalism before feminism, the young chemist accidentally falls into hosting a national cooking show, on which her earnest scientific views threaten to overturn housewives’ lives. The first third of the novel, in which the author imaginatively and with great brio thrusts us into the era and the various lives of the characters, works spectacularly well, at once propulsive, entertaining, and often funny. And the pell-mell climax, in which the various narrative strands come together, and a mystery is revealed, felt most satisfying to me as reader. The middle section was less successful, at least in my humble opinion, with characterization forced and the style less vivacious. All in all, Lessons in Chemistry entertains while mildly provoking, making for a hearty three-night read.

Former doctor turned journalist, Paul Biegler has vaulted from his own knee pains to a fascinating exploration of the mystifying world of pain. To my untutored mind, the question he asks is: why is one person’s chronic or severe pain another person’s ho-hum. “Why Does It Still Hurt?: How the Power of Knowledge Can Overcome Chronic Pain” travels the world interviewing people with harrowing pain journeys, and the scientists and doctors who seem to be groping towards a more accurate picture of pain than the one societies currently have. Taking a crude notion such as neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability and tendency to rewire itself, towards specific clues as to pain’s origins (besides the obvious one of a physically painful instance) and towards revolutionary treatments (that no longer fixate on surgery and pills), Biegler provides an enlightening window into pain. And this is no academic yawn: the author is an evocative, fluent stylist supremely in control of his material. Why We Hurt is modern scientific/medical journalism of the highest order.

The second in a brainy sci-fi series about modern AI, “Intelligence Horizon” is a worthy sequel to Intelligent Consent (see my review), in which an AI-designing engineer finds himself dealing with a robot carrying a mind identical to his. As in the first instalment, this time we see a pair of humans wrestle with their own consciences as their robotic skills seem destined for military us, whilst the robot and a new friend struggle to survive against villains on Mars. A quick read enhanced by wry humor, Intelligence Horizon suits its genre well.