There was a time, long before the days of blockbuster sci-fi movies, when anyone professing an interest in science fiction – or who had even heard of the genre – was likely to be a science geek. These days it’s different. Everyone has heard of science fiction, and even people who automatically think ‘all science is boring’ may count themselves as sci-fi fans. This translates into a huge opportunity for science communicators. After all, how can a science book be boring if it uses ideas from science fiction as a springboard? Brian Clegg has already used this approach on two of science fiction’s best known themes: time travel (How to Build a Time Machine) and interstellar travel (Final Frontier). In his latest book he applies the same logic to a whole range of other sci-fi tropes, from robots and ray guns to clones and cloaking devices.
If the book has a recurring message, it’s that real-world technology is less impressive than its sci-fi counterpart. Present-day quantum teleportation may do pretty much the same thing as a Star Trek transporter, but it does it on approximately 1028 (ten thousand trillion trillion) fewer atoms. Modern computers may have voice synthesisers that sound as good as HAL 9000 in 2001: A Space Odyssey, but they don’t have anything like Hal’s deductive or conversational powers. The security hologram on your credit card is, all things considered, not in the same league as the holodeck in Star Trek: The Next Generation.
Of course, there’s no reason why sci-fi technology should be a feasible proposition in the real world, either now or at any time in the future. As Brian Clegg points out in the book’s first chapter: ‘Science fiction does not set out to predict the future – instead it’s about asking “What if?” for all kinds of scenarios. It doesn’t matter if those possible futures are likely to happen or not, as long as they are interesting.’ In light of this, the surprising thing is not that real-world counterparts fall short of sci-fi expectations, but that real-world counterparts exist at all.
Ten Billion Tomorrows is essentially a book about science, not science fiction, and the author doesn’t let himself get bogged down in sci-fi geekiness. Most of the chapters are focused on a well-known sci-fi concept – something that is so familiar, even to the casual movie-goer or TV viewer, that it barely needs to be described before plunging into the – usually much less familiar – scientific reality behind it. A notable exception is Chapter 13, which deals with trips to the Moon. In this case it’s the reality – Project Apollo – that is so familiar it hardly needs to be described, while the preceding centuries of fictional lunar voyages are almost forgotten. Yet these make interesting reading, if only because they never quite managed to get it right – even in the 1950s, when all the scientific groundwork for Apollo was already in place.
As the title suggests, the potential scope of this book is enormous. It’s inevitable, therefore, that some readers are going to spot omissions they feel really should have been included (a point the author acknowledges right at the start). At the same time, the book covers so much ground that everyone will find something new in it, no matter how much of a sci-fi fan or science geek they are. Brian Clegg’s books are always enjoyable and informative to read, but this one has the added attraction that it flits so quickly from one subject to another that you never quite know what’s coming next. If there’s such a thing as an ‘edge of the seat’ popular science book, this is it!
Review by Andrew May
Please note, this title is written by the editor of the Popular Science website. Our review is still an honest opinion – and we could hardly omit the book – but do want to make the connection clear.
Tom Cabot is a London-based book editor and designer with a background in experimental psychology, natural science and graphic design. He founded the London-based packaging company, Ketchup, and has produced and illustrated many books for the British Film Institute, Penguin and the Royal Institute of British Architects. Tom has held a lifelong passion to explain science graphically and inclusively ... ever since being blown away by Ray and Charles Eames’ Powers of Ten at an early age. His first book is Eureka, an infographic guide to science.
Why infographics? For me infographics provided a way to present heavy-lifting science in an alluring and playful, but ultimately illuminating, way. And I love visualising data and making it as attractive as the ideas are. The novelty of the presentation hopefully gets the reader to look afresh. I love the idea of luring in readers who might normally be put off by drier, more monotone science – people who left science behind at 16. I wanted the boo…
Books on Einstein and his work are not exactly thin on the ground. There's even been more than one book before with a title centring on Einstein's mistake or mistakes. So to make a new title worthwhile it has do something different - and David Bodanis certainly achieves this with Einstein's Greatest Mistake. If I'm honest, the book isn't the greatest on the science or the history - but what it does superbly is tell a story. The question we have to answer is why that justifies considering this to be a good book. I would compare Einstein's Greatest Mistake with the movie Lincoln - it is, in effect, a biopic in book form with all the glory and flaws that can bring. Compared with a good biography, a biopic will distort the truth and emphasise parts of the story that aren't significant because they make for a good screen scene. But I would much rather someone watched the movie than never found out anything about Lincoln - and similarly I'd much rather someon…
Scientists sometimes tell us we're in a post-philosophy world. For example, Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow in The Grand Design bluntly say that that philosophy is 'dead' - no longer required, as science can do its job far better. However, other scientists recognise the benefits of philosophy, particularly when it is applied to their own discipline. One such is Eric Scerri, probably the world's greatest expert on the periodic table, who in this challenging book sets out to modify the philosophical models of scientific progress.
I ought to say straight away that A Tale of Seven Scientists sits somewhere on the cusp between popular science and a heavy duty academic title. For reasons that will become clear, I could only give it three stars if rating it as popular science, but it deserves more if we don't worry too much about it being widely accessible.
One minor problem with accessibility is that I've never read a book that took so long to get started. First t…