An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth, Chris Hadfield

I’ve been meaning to read this forever, after getting quite into the videos Chris Hadfield posted and the stuff he tweeted when he was on the International Space Station. This is both less glamorous than you’d imagine an astronaut’s book to be, and more practical in terms of actual advice about everyday life. There are details about NASA, about what it’s like to fly a plane or go into space, etc, but there’s also a lot about being a team player, communication with family, and all sorts of ordinary things that maybe you wouldn’t think an astronaut would talk about.

Overall, Hadfield comes off as a down to earth (ha) and likeable guy, with a sense of humour about life and humility about his achievements, even though they’re pretty epic achievements. I found his book mostly interesting, although sometimes talking about bureaucracy was just bewilderingly frustrating — and why should he have exploratory surgery to prove that he doesn’t need exploratory surgery again? Aaargh, world, you are weird.

It’s mostly not really about being an astronaut. It’s about loving your job, working hard, and trying to be a decent human being. The moments of wonder are there too, but this is mostly about the road taken to get there.

Rating: 4/5

Permanent Present Tense, Suzanne Corkin

The first thing you should be aware of about this book is that Suzanne Corkin was one of the people who did most research with Henry Molaison before his death, even involving herself in who was his guardian and the arrangements for what would happen after his death. She liked him, and clearly thought that he was a good man, but she also remained first and foremost a researcher. So she was pleased when, after his death, they successfully removed his brain intact for study. If that’s going to bother you, this may not be the book for you; Corkin remains a scientist primarily, throughout.

For me, though, it was fascinating. It explains a lot about the various different tests that were done on Henry Molaison, yes, but it also describes his willing cooperation, his character, the way the operation which took his memories affected him, even his sense of humour and the things he enjoyed. According to Corkin — and I’ve heard nothing to contradict this — he was happy to offer himself up for research, happy to contribute to medical science. It ends up being a touching account because of that: the number of people who cared about what happened to him, about his legacy, and the number of people who benefited because of his willingness to be studied.

Of course, you can question whether he would have been so willing if he remembered the immense number of trials he was run through, the sheer amount of time he spent in the labs. Probably not, I would think — it requires an immense amount of patience, after all. But if he had his memory, he wouldn’t have been the object of so much study, so it’s a bit of a circular argument. I would be interested in reading a book about the ethics behind all the experiments run on him and if any of them caused him any distress, etc, but as it is here, it doesn’t seem so — and certainly the fact that he was closely monitored at all times made sure he received good medical care throughout his life.

It’s difficult to construct a continuous narrative of a life as necessarily fragmented as Henry’s, so Corkin follows the progress of study on his brain instead. It’s not primarily about H.M. in that sense — except that without him, those advances couldn’t have been made. I think it still brings across a tenderness and affection for the man, despite Corkin’s academic interest.

Rating: 5/5

Built By Animals, Mike Hansell

This is not a book full of gorgeous full colour photographs of bowers made by birds, chimpanzee tools, termite nests, etc. I was a bit baffled to see someone giving it less stars because it isn’t that kind of book. Instead, it’s a book that goes into how making structures and using tools could be evolved, and whether it’s automatically a sign of intelligence. To me, the point begins to get a bit laboured, because I can well believe that small changes, small steps, can build up to huge effects. I mean, that’s evolution for you. That’s how it works.

The interesting thing, perhaps, is that Hansell would like to be more optimistic about the link between intelligence and tool use, and yet has to acknowledge that the data really doesn’t support it. In consequence, if Hansell told me something is a sign of intelligence, I’d be inclined to believe him. He doesn’t blind himself to the actual data through wanting a certain outcome.

My main issue with this was really the way it sort of… tailed off. There’s a final chapter talking about birds and whether they create art, and perhaps how art developed in humans, and — then there’s nothing. No conclusion. Even the chapter seems to end a bit weakly. I’d like to see something that synthesises the whole argument and presents it in a nutshell, along with any points about data yet to be collected that could shed more light on the issues. I’m sure Hansell could’ve done that; all the info is there. But this critique is maybe more the English Lit graduate part of me.

Rating: 3/5

Terra, Richard Hamblyn

The subtitle of this book is “Four Events That Changed The World”, which might raise a question in some people’s minds since none is earlier than 1755. Well, it’s not saying these are the only important disasters to change the world, or even the most important; the idea is, I think, that these are events which prompted thought, scientific advances, and provisions for the future. The earthquake in Lisbon prompted innovation in building techniques; the toxic fog in Europe prompted thinkers like Franklin to work on the atmosphere (and gave us important information about climate change); Krakatau prompted research on volcanoes and impacted ecosystems; the tsunami in Hilo prompted international cooperation to get together a warning system.

These aren’t really about single great triumphs of someone in particular, but about the development of a deeper understanding of the Earth and the way it works. Sadly for me, it’s mostly about eyewitness accounts and less about the scientists, architects and politicians who had to respond to the events. It’s pretty much disaster porn to just go on about the way someone’s skin was hanging off their body during the eruption of Krakatau — I’d be much more interested in the scientific side of things.

But I guess for that, I have my Open University textbook… I just wish this had been somewhere in between: illustrative, but more scientific. It’s not badly written, and there is interesting information, but I got a little bit tired of the scenes of horror.

Rating: 3/5

The Lucifer Effect, Philip Zimbardo

This is a horribly difficult book to read, not because Zimbardo’s writing is bad or the subject is uninteresting, but because it exposes how easily people can be manipulated into a role — and I don’t just mean the guards, but also the prisoners. It’s important because it examines, in minute detail, the events of a now infamous experiment: the Stanford Prison Experiment. This was run, not by Stanley Milgram, as people often think, but by Philip Zimbardo, and even he became caught up in the act of it. It wasn’t even a very convincing prison, and yet it quickly made both guards and prisoners act their roles. And not even them, but people outside it who should have seen through the illusion, like the chaplain.

Both this experiment and Stanley Milgram’s experiments are kind of horrifying, because we don’t want to think it’s that easy. If you read Behind the Shock Machine, by Gina Perry (the title links to my review), she shows that it’s not that easy — Milgram’s experiments were honed to a fine point, and only the results which supported his conclusions most spectacularly were published. But still, the fact remains that you don’t have to scratch far below the surface to find something unsavoury about the way humans seem to act.

As Dar Williams says in ‘Buzzer’: I get it now, I’m the face, I’m the cause of war; we don’t have to blame white-coated men anymore.

This book, this experiment, isn’t all there is to be said about human nature, of course. But it’s an important account of something which revolutionised our understanding of human psychology, and shone a light on things we need to examine — even if they turn out not to hold as true as we fear. Kudos to Zimbardo for his unflinching discussion of everything that went on in the experiment, and every time he failed to safeguard the interests of the participants.

Rating: 4/5