Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay: The Dodgy Business of Popular Music, Simon Napier-Bell

The style of this history of the music industry is casual and gossipy, and it’d be really easy to read… if I didn’t keep running into phrases like “Red Indians” and “sang the verse like a virgin and the chorus like a whore”. You what? Red Indians, really? In this day and age? And really, a bit of straight-up Madonna/whore bullshit?

I took a couple of deep breaths and read on, but that was just the first chapter and there was plenty more where that came from. If you’re looking for something casual and gossipy, and you don’t mind the occasional stunningly offensive line, then you might well enjoy it; for a non-fiction book, it is actually quite well paced, and there’s plenty of scandal in the music industry to entertain you. Just… apparently very much not for me. So full disclosure: I didn’t finish it.

Rating: 2/5

Time’s Anvil: England, Archaeology and the Imagination, Richard Morris

I really need more books on archaeology; it’s a relaxing thing to read about, somehow, and I prefer it to biography because it can be so varied. Time’s Anvil certainly delivered on the ‘varied’ front, though it is very varied in a way that does feel odd at times: one moment it reflects on the personal life of Morris’ forebears, the next on the historical landscape of Britain, and the two are rather mingled. It meanders, is the best way I can think of to put it. It’s not uninteresting, but some chapters feel immensely dense while others just don’t go into the depth I’d like.

Stuff I did find interesting: the battlefield archaeology stuff, particularly on placing battle sites like that of Bosworth more precisely; the attention to that moment of thrill in holding an artefact that links you somehow to someone hundreds or thousands of years before you; examining the role of metal detecting; examining problems with excavation vs preservation, and in addition, what should be preserved and how we should do that…

There’s a lot of interesting stuff touched on, but it’s not really a book about any one thing, save for the development of English archaeology in general. A book like Seahenge is much more satisfying to me: it sets out a problem, a mystery, and seeks to solve it — knowing always that we can’t have that final scene where the culprit is decisively named. I like the chains of evidence, comparisons between sites, the surprises that crop up during excavations… In that sense, this book isn’t specific enough for me.

So, all in all, enjoyable enough, but not what I really wanted.

Rating: 3/5

A Portrait of the Brain, Adam Zeman

I picked this one up after hearing Adam Zeman do a section in the New Scientist Live consciousness workshop. Like that event, I found it surprisingly simple. The information was mostly stuff I’d read elsewhere; even on neurology and the biology of the brain, it didn’t really touch on anything I wasn’t already aware of. Definitely a good introduction to some neurological issues and the interrelated nature of body and brain; less so if you’ve already read stuff like Sam Kean’s The Tale of the Duelling Neurosurgeons, or even taken a basic course on neurobiology (e.g. Peggy Mason’s ‘The Neurobiology of Everyday Life’ on Coursera).

I was especially puzzled, though, by the choice Zeman made to refer to psychosomatic/conversion disorders as ‘hysteria’. I checked with a psychiatrist of my acquaintance (hi Mum)… As I suspected, it’s not a word that is really used anymore by anyone credible. I think that’s pretty much because it just has all the wrong connotations, and such a bad history of dismissing mental illness — particularly, dismissing female (mental) illness. We have modern terms for it, Zeman seems tolerably aware that even when a disease has no detectable physical cause, it can be serious and in need of treatment… So this just seems like a really weird choice.

I’m well aware of the brain’s power to create symptoms out of harmless bodily sensations. There’s no doubt that that happens, to greater and lesser extents. But to call it hysteria leaves a bad taste in my mouth, because it has such a history of being linked with dismissing women, seeing women as weak and disturbed, etc, etc.

Overall, way too simplistic a book for me, alas, even though I’m still a layperson. Perhaps a good primer for people new to neurology.

Rating: 2/5

The Parthenon, Mary Beard

I enjoyed Mary Beard’s book on Pompeii, so when I spotted The Parthenon in a deal, I figured it’d be an interesting one. I actually expected it to be a bit more about the Greek context of the Parthenon, rather than going into the afterlife of the building — the use as a church and a mosque, the archaeology and tourism, even the literary responses to it, which is what it actually did. It seemed quite inconclusive about what the Parthenon actually was, though the evidence that might tell us about that is more scarce than you would think. It’s unsatisfying — it doesn’t have an altar, so it’s not a temple? But maybe it is? But?

Still, it is interesting to read about the history of the building as a church and a mosque, as well as a temple. I wasn’t even really aware of how much destruction the Parthenon went through: the iconic modern look is actually due to a lot of restoration.

It was very interesting to read the part about Lord Elgin and the issue of the British Museum’s possession of the marbles he took from Athens. On the one hand, it manifestly helped preserve the sculpture: that which remained in situ is in much worse state. But it’s also so… ugh, so imperial and condescending, to assume that Britain is the best guardian. Paternalistic. And while I like Neil MacGregor’s outlook on the British Museum (at least as expressed in A History of the World in 100 Objects), I’m still torn on the subject of the Elgin Marbles. I love the idea of a world museum, and I like the idea of it being in London — because I can conceivably take a weekend off and go there. That doesn’t mean it’s actually the best location, obviously. Just convenient to me. Not that I can think of anywhere notably better, either; I can’t think of a genuinely neutral, international space.

This book really emphasised that the problem of the Parthenon for us is one of cultural ownership, just as Pompeii can be seen as one of preservation. I wanted more about the Acropolis and the original purpose/usage of the Parthenon, but it seems we just don’t know. Which is kind of fascinating in itself…

Rating: 4/5

Genes, Peoples and Languages, Luigi Cavalli-Sforza, trans. Mark Seielstad

I’ve been meaning to read this for a while — even before coming across it in Steven Pinker’s The Language Instinct — because genes and languages are two interests of mine. I’m not much for statistics and I found it difficult to follow some of the analyses of the data in this book, but fortunately, Cavalli-Sforza and his translator managed to put the conclusions across quite clearly. I’m surprised to see opposition to the idea that the spread of genes and languages can be mapped onto each other fairly closely, with some exceptions; Darwin predicted it, and according to the data here, it’s fairly clear.

I think the book might’ve benefited from a tighter focus, all the same; it seemed like the language chapter/s went off on a tangent somewhat. Still very interesting, and no doubt out of date by now — my edition says 2001 — so I really should look for more up to date stuff.

Rating: 3/5

13 Things That Don’t Make Sense, Michael Brooks

Some of these things are sort of covered in Brooks’ other book, At the Edge of Uncertainty, while others weren’t. There’s a bunch of interesting stuff about extraterrestrial intelligence and the experiments looking for microbial life on Mars, for instance. As with the other book, Brooks gives clear explanations. In fact, reading both books illuminated more about the topics that were in both. Each topic leads to the next in a very logical way, too.

The topic selections are all interesting: life on Mars, the ‘wow’ signal, discrepancies about universal constants…  It may not all be of interest to every reader, but it’s a good selection of scientific mysteries and frontiers. It explores them quite well, without going into too much detail.

Very much a pop science book, suitable for readers of New Scientist and similar publications. Which isn’t surprising, since he was an editor for that magazine!

Rating: 3/5

The Better Angels of Our Nature, Steven Pinker

I better admit up front that I don’t have any intuitive or educated grasp on statistics, and without actually sitting down with the data sets, I haven’t the least idea of whether they’re appropriately chosen, correctly delineated, etc, etc. I do note, though, that Steven Pinker is a respected academic, Penguin are a respected publisher, and I was directed to reading this by another academic. Where he talks about history, he seems to be broadly correct, and his explanation of his graphs and statistics makes sense to me.

Some aspects gave me serious pause, though, equally. The fact that somehow he manages to endorse all his own views and the views of contemporary Western society as the civilising effect, for example. The fact that he dismisses the issues of hate crimes as decreasing, without much examination. (For example, could the fact that trans* people can now pass much better, due to improved medical procedures for transition, be part of the reduction in transphobic violence?) Colonialism gets a pass because it reduced violence, without looking at the economic problems it can cause, etc, etc. I think sometimes Pinker dismisses serious areas of violence based on fairly spurious data like police reports.

I’m not sure if this is a kneejerk feeling in myself — “colonialism can’t be an unalloyed good!” — or whether it’s an actual issue in the data. The problem with reading pop psychology is that you just have to take the author’s word for it, at times. I did laugh at his overly optimistic depiction of the fall of homophobia, though. Apparently queer people no longer have anything to fear, and there’s no difficulty in coming out! Um. I need to have a word with you, Mr Pinker.

The overall thesis that violence is declining, I’m inclined to accept, on balance. When people immediately cry, “look at the events in Paris recently!”, Pinker would have an answer for them about the origin of that violence (it might’ve taken place in Western Europe, but where does the motivating ideology stem from?), and when people say that crime is clearly on the rise based on reportage, that’s definitely an example of the availability heuristic at work. Also, he is talking specifically about violence, not about crime in general — which surely means that non-violent thefts, white collar crime, etc, are not included in his dataset.

While I’m not ultimately sure how much to believe this, I enjoyed Pinker’s discussion of the issues, his potential explanations of the data, and his deconstruction of the violent bases of things like the Bible and the code of chivalry. It’s a heck of a tome, but fascinating, even if you disagree. There’s a lot of criticism out there, but again, because it’s not my field I’d be taking that as much on faith as I have to take this book, so I’m not heading down that rabbit hole.

Rating: 3/5

At the Edge of Uncertainty, Michael Brooks

I picked this up after attending the New Scientist “instant expert” workshop on consciousness. Michael Brooks introduced the lecturers and such, and chaired the Q&A session, and it was mentioned one of his books mentions epigenetics. Well, that’s possibly even more my thing than a workshop on consciousness, so of course I picked it up.

It’s an overview of the parts of science where we don’t quite know what’s happening. Where the story becomes blurred and you definitely don’t teach it in GCSE Physics, because even eminent scientists aren’t sure what to believe. It makes things we take for granted — the Big Bang, hereditary diseases mostly through DNA itself — a little shakier. So Brooks’ account is understandably speculative, just giving us a look at current thought in the field — the big ideas which could change the way we look at the world.

It’s reasonably easy to read, despite the big concepts, and I quite enjoyed it. If New Scientist works for you, then this is about the same level, to my mind. It covers a lot of areas of science and goes in-depth on none, so you certainly don’t need to be an expert. If you are finding the concepts a little difficult, I would suggest reading one chapter at a time and giving yourself time to digest the ideas — I did that with a couple of chapters.

Rating: 4/5