‘Under the Silvery Moon’ by Colleen McKeown

The perfect bedtime companion, this beautiful children’s book is soft, sweet, and magical.

So often it’s the words or images alone that make a children’s book, with the other standing in the side-lines paying an occasional well-placed compliment. This little book strikes the perfect balance between the two, with beautiful flowing words perfectly captured by magical, moon-dappled imagery.

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“Around us swirls a summer song; it’s whispered through the trees.
The evening wind is blowing through the softly rustling leaves.”

The sun has set, and bedtime has long past, but one little kitten is struggling to sleep. Snuggled up in the hay lofts of a cosy wooden barn, the scene is perfect for slumber, but outside, animals are stirring, and the night-time noises fill the little ginger tom with fear.

Under the Silvery Moon is the softly sung lullaby of Mother Cat, as she guides her little one on a journey through the sounds of the night, stopping to visit each nocturnal creature along the way.

We pass the shadow-like figure of a fox, singing his night-time song, a happy trundling badger, barking with delight, a host of croaking frogs, bathing by the light of the moon, and snuffling, scurrying hedgehogs, out for a midnight snack.

Elsewhere, a mother duck snuggles with her ducklings, and other animals, tired from a busy day, get some well-earned rest – just as little kittens should.

Mother Cat’s soothing lullaby shows the night is full of noises, but none we need to fear.

Under the Silvery Moon is a calming bedtime read, perfect for settling any little one to sleep, the soft rhyming text and beautiful, dream-like illustrations paving the way for a sweet slumber filled with nocturnal adventures.

‘Beijing Smog’ by Ian Williams

Social media is a powerful thing, even in a world where government-sanctioned firewalling attempts to keep it under wraps. In a place where public opinion is learned, not formed, and freedom of expression is non-existent, innocent Tweets, shares and updates can be taken all too seriously. Even the smallest of jokes can end up spiralling out of control.

41Q5eoeLSxL._SX322_BO1,204,203,200_So goes the story in ‘Beijing Smog’, the debut novel from Ian Williams, former correspondent for Channel 4 News and the Sunday Times newspaper, who spent more than two decades living, working and reporting on China. Dark, cynical and somewhat satirical, Williams presents a modern Chinese society that is suffocating and depressing, and might prove for hard reading were it not for an entourage of well-rounded, relatable characters, and, what I hope will prove to be, Williams’ signature satirical humour.

A book of multiple pathways, ‘Beijing Smog’ centres first and foremost on the life of Wang Chu, a video-game-addicted computer science student and the unexpected father of revolution, who hides behind the screen of his smartphone, in a world inhabited by crazed monkeys, brain-hungry zombies, and poorly drawn aliens.

Wang’s devil-may-care attitude to social media has a far more prominent effect on his followers than he could have ever imagined. How could anyone have foreseen that an innocuous Tweet, subtly poking fun at the modern Chinese government, could start a revolution? That all it would take to undermine the ruling Communist Party is a simple, crudely draw stick alien with a wide bulbous head and round, sloping eyes? It started life as a joke, but the Party are not laughing.

As he wanders blindly into the heart of the storm, Wang’s story intertwines with that of two others: Chuck Drayton, an American diplomat, sucked into the world of cyber security not by desire, or ability on his part, but apathy and incompetence of everyone else; and Anthony Morgan, a listless British businessman, striving to keep his Chinese partners on track while revealing his true feelings via VPN with gloomy predictions published under the Twitter tagline @Beijing_Smog. As their stories collide, the alien revolution set in motion by Wang takes on an unpredictable life of its own, threatening all those involved, none more so than the Party itself.

This is a book about espionage, corruption, censorship and alienation. Cyberspace and the choking Chinese smog form a striking metaphor of the disorientation that clouds the main characters’ brains and the wider Chinese public. As government sensors work tirelessly to conceal, delete and mould online opinion, businesses boom with the sale of inadequate gas masks and smog apps and university students hide within a world far more palatable than reality. It may seem apathetic; a generation of students unable to look up from their phones and at a total loss when the internet goes down, but it is online that revolution is brewing.

This is not an historical novel, nor an exact representation of life in the People’s Republic, but rather a book which seeks to capture the madness and intensity of life within a highly censored society. This is something that Williams achieves without a doubt, his sparky style and dark satirical humour creates a world where student sinks overflowing with ramen dishware, shabby coffee shops with more tab than substance, and cracked smartphone screens, sit alongside bloated, machete-mutilated corpses, hungry Siberian tigers, and invitations to ‘tea’ with the university authorities. A world where a single slipped word could see a person disappear.

This review was first published online for E&T Magazine 

‘There’s a Bear on my Chair’ by Ross Collins

I’m a sucker for a book with rhyming couplets.

Rhyme offers so much opportunity to explore the written word in children’s books – archaic and dated words fit right into the flow of text, alongside nonsense terms and odd turns of phrase. In short, anything goes. Get the rhythm right and the rest will follow, children are sure to love a book that rhymes.

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This book caught my eye in WHSmiths during one of my regular lunchtime strolls at work, and I decided to give it a read, sucked in by the triple rhyme in the title, and the furious mouse on the cover image. What’s his story?

It’s a simple book – but the simplicity is what makes it so excellent. Collins writes in rhyming couplets using only ‘Air’ words, and the result is quite delightful.

The story has a childish humour running through it that adults and children alike are bound to enjoy. A poor little mouse discovers a selfish polar bear sitting in his favourite chair, which simply is too small to share. The poor little mouse attempts all sorts of amusing tactics to shoo the bear (to make him go back to his lair), he gives him quite a nasty glare, he tries to tempt him with a pear, he jumps out in his underwear, but nothing works. The bear just simply does not care. You get the picture.

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In the end, the mouse gives up, being driven to the end of his tiny mouse tether by this big troublesome bear. He leaves his house, distraught and beaten, to find a new place to rest.

Once the mouse has gone, the bear, of course, gets up and walks home.

Here we find the delightful twist in the tail.

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I confess, I laughed. I laughed loud, and insisted that my colleagues give the book a read. Waiting patiently for the satisfied chuckle I knew was coming once they reached the end of the book.

It’s simple, but clever, and I really didn’t see it coming.

This book would be perfect for sharing with children, to help foster a love of reading from a young age. It’s no ‘Cat in the Hat’, or ‘Green Eggs and Ham’, but it does have a vaguely Dr Seuss-esque feel to it, in style, substance, and illustration – a winning combination that truly represents the power of the written word.

 

‘A Portable Cosmos’ by Alexander Jones

More than 100 years after it was first discovered, and following on from decades of research by scientists and theologians alike, author Alexander Jones reveals a new and unknown approach to understanding the mysterious Antikythera mechanism.

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Since the dawn of society, mankind has striven to understand the forces that dictate history. Ancient Greeks found answers in fate, with shrouded white beings, known as the Moirai, depicted alongside the gods as the bringers of destiny.

It would be easy to suggest that fate was at play in 1901, when sponge divers off the coast of a small Greek island stumbled upon the ruins of an ancient shipwreck, which just happened to be one of the most important archaeological discoveries of all time.

The contents of the wreck, dating back as far as 60 AD, revealed untold wonders of the lives of the privileged in Ancient Greece. The vessel was laden with artistic masterpieces in the form of bronze and marble statues and intricate glassware and ceramics. Most important of all, though, was the unique Antikythera mechanism – the crumbling remains of an ancient gear-driven device, since dubbed the first analogue computer.

‘A Portable Cosmos’, written and researched by Professor Alexander Jones, from New York University’s Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, attempts to unpick the murky history of the Antikythera mechanism. The book presents the device as a gateway to the understanding of scientific thought in Ancient Greece, where the divine and the methodical were inextricably entwined.

Jones takes the reader on a journey through the various years of research into the mechanism’s background, as well as into the device itself, affording a glimpse beneath the corroded surface and into the interior gears and cogs.

Since its discovery more than 100 years ago, scholars and scientists have dedicated years of research to uncovering the secrets hidden beneath the mechanism’s corroded exterior. The symbols, writings, gears and cogs uncovered by years of investigation have revealed that the mechanism is some kind of advanced astronomical calculator, with dials given over to tracing cycles of time and the movements of the sun, moon and planets.

Various theories have arisen as to the machine’s true function, with it being labelled as both an astrolabe and a planetarium at various stages throughout the 20th century. It was not until Derek de Solla Price began researching the object in the 1950s that the word ‘computer’ arose and with it the idea that the device could have been used to determine certain predictions and calculations.

For Jones it seems unlikely that the mechanism was created to compute data in any practical way, but rather, was more likely created as a reflection of certain beliefs and aspirations in Ancient Greece. Navigational and other purposes would have been much more easily supplied by other, cheaper means, whereas the range and breadth of information expressed by the mechanism is far and beyond the realms required by any merchant ship.

Instead, Jones poses the idea that the device may have served as vessel for teaching the ‘educated layman’ how astronomical phenomena were interwoven with the natural and social environment. Take a glimpse at Ancient Greek texts and one can see the presence of mechanical thought within the understanding of astrological forces. Vitruvius described the heavens themselves as spun about mechanically – viewing astrological revolutions as driven by a system of invisible, interlocking parts. For some, this theory went further, into the very nature of fate itself.

Within the Antikythera mechanism, each astrological and chronological function had a rich context in Ancient Greek life and as such serves as the perfect gateway to understanding astronomy and scientific technology within society at the time. Just as fate and serendipity fascinated and guided the hands of ancient scholars, so too has it dictated the journey of the Antikythera mechanism, from a corroded piece of rubble to one of the most important discoveries of modern times.

This review was first published online for E&T magazine

‘What to do when machines do everything’ by Malcolm Frank, Paul Roehrig and Ben Pring

There are plenty of predictions out there for what a future world filled with artificially intelligent machines might look like, from utopian visions of technological miracles and marvels, to dystopian predictions of man enslaved by robotics. In a world where such systems are becoming the norm, how do these visions relate to reality?

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Last week, I was struggling with a problem with my hard drive when a member of IT came over to help. He saw a book, ‘What to Do When Machines Do Everything’, lying on my desk and smiled. “What will we do?” he asked, “go on holiday!” I countered this argument quite quickly – “but you won’t have a job, how will you afford to go on holiday?” I asked. “When machines do everything, everything will be free,” he assured me.

It’s a nice thought, but perhaps a little optimistic.

Whatever your opinion on artificial intelligence and automated machinery, there is no doubt that these products and systems are now a reality. The last few years have seen many intelligent systems escape from the experimental cages of the past, outgrow industrial testing labs, and enter the world of work. For some, that’s exciting, for others terrifying, but for all, it’s inevitable. This new publication from Wiley, written by thought leaders from IT services company Cognizant, takes a closer look at the rise of intelligent machinery and robotics within the industrial sector, to analyse how such systems are revolutionising the world of work, and how businesses and industries can ensure they make the most of the situation.

As leaders of Cognizant’s Center for the Future of Work, authors Malcolm Frank, Paul Roehrig and Ben Pring are well placed to discuss this subject. After three years of intense research, and no doubt a little bit of philosophical head-scratching, they have produced a book for thought leaders and business owners at all levels, which serves as an action plan for success in the new era of industrial production. This isn’t a look at what might happen in the next 25 years, they assure the reader, but rather an in-depth look at what will happen in the next five. It’s a book for those who want to make the most of the digital revolution, to help them to survive and thrive in a world where machines do everything.

According to the authors, we are living in a time of the ‘know-it-all’ business – brought on by systems of intelligence or ‘thinking machines’ – in which leaders and managers can and should have a continuous awareness of what is going on in the company’s operation. The primary means of the digital industrial revolution is data, a resource that is cheap to gather, cheap to distribute, infinite, unique, exponentially valuable, and as such far superior to those that came before. Data has the potential to transform workplaces and increase productivity, but must be handled carefully.

With this in mind, the authors encourage industry leaders to think practically. While it is OK to take inspiration from the Facebooks, Amazons, Netflixes and Googles of the world, it is important to remember the role of industry as fundamentally different from those companies born of the digital revolution. Complete digitalisation is an impossibility within industry, a sector which will always require processes, systems and factory floors. The key to success is in careful blending of digital and industrial.

Taken at face value, ‘What to Do When Machines do Everything’ is a helpful ‘how to’ guide to succeed in a world of automation, intelligent systems and robotics, which outlines what you should do, why, and what will happen if you don’t.

According to the authors, the good news, or perhaps bad news where my friendly IT technician is concerned, is that when machines do everything, there will still be plenty for us humble humans to do.

This review was first published online for E&T magazine

 

‘Time Machine Tales’ by Paul J Nahin

 

A blend of science and philosophy teases out the paradoxes surrounding whether it will ever be possible to slip back and forth between the ages.

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Time travel is a curious thing. Imagine having the whole of history at your very finger tips; it would be easy to travel back to the day when JFK was shot, to discover if it really was Lee Harvey Oswald behind the assassination and reveal the identity of that troubling ‘Babushka Lady’, or to hop over to ancient Egypt to watch the pyramids being made, or discover the meaning behind Stonehenge. The possibilities are endless, but so is time, and any talk of time travel, or travelling backwards in time at the very least, opens up all sorts of troubling questions and complexities.

In ‘Time Machine Tales: The Science Fiction Adventures and Philosophical Puzzles of Time Travel’, Paul J Nahin delves into questions surrounding time travel as presented through the world of science fiction. A science writer by trade, Nahin takes a philosophical seat here, leaving behind the dreary equation-filled technical notes of the past in favour of colourful anecdotes from favourites including Arthur C Clarke and Isaac Asimov, interjected with thoughts and theories of leading physicists. Quite fitting, perhaps, as not so long ago, talk of travelling through time was relegated solely to realms of science fiction.

As excited as many sci-fi fanatics might get at the thought off hopping forward or backwards in time, for the most part such ideas have been dismissed as implausible. After all, the basic premise of travelling backwards in time inverts the cause and effect paradigm by which we all understand life, by demanding backwards causation. Today though, talk of time travel is a much more respectable business. As Nahin points out, the only reason time travel seems so implausible is because there is no rational scientific theory to explain it.

To put this into context, in 2013 Professor Brian Cox announced that time travel is theoretically possible, but only into the future, and that once in the future, it is impossible to go back. This is due to Einstein’s special theory of relativity (hypothesised in 1905 – it’s old news now), which states that when an object approaches the speed of light, time within the object slows down. The idea being that the closer a rocket ship travels relative to the speed of light, the slower the seconds pass by on a watch worn by an astronaut compared to that of an identical one back on Earth. Of course, no technology exists today that would be able to take someone very far into the future – the energy required would be astronomical – but it has already been done, albeit on a very small scale, by Russian cosmonaut Sergei Krikalev, who spent 803 days, 9 hours and 39 minutes in space and returned to Earth 0.02 seconds into his own future.

With the right explanation, time travel doesn’t seem so far-fetched after all. Not so, though, with the idea of travelling to the past.

Backwards travel conjures up far more issues, not least the cumulative audience paradox. This is the idea that, if backwards travel were possible, there would be untold numbers of time tourists present at the crucifixion of Christ, the assassination of John Lennon, the battle of Battenberg, the birth of Prince George and any other historic event that anyone could ever have even the slightest interest in. Of course, as Nahin points out, the absence of temporal visitors is an objection to the actuality of time travel, and not the possibility of it. It could be, as many science fiction writers have suggested, that in the future, there are certain rules forbidding time travel to the past.

If it seems impossible, though, why are we so obsessed with talk of time travel? The answer is simply because, although we believe it to be impossible, it has not yet been proven to be impossible, and many are simply not satisfied with this. Professor Stephen Hawking has said that he believes there is new physics yet to be discovered that will forbid would be time travellers from travelling up and down the centuries – but until such a discovery is made, and proven, the conversation is likely to continue.

This is an unusual book, falling somewhere into the murky depths between philosophy and physics. Nahin approaches the science fiction of the past using current discussion from leading physicists and philosophers, to create a book which will make you pause, think, and quite possibly probably scratch your head as you try to contemplate the reality of time machines crashing into themselves, the implications of the bootstrap paradox, and the mind-bending characteristics of a Möbius strip.

This review was first published online for E&T magazine

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley – Annotated for Scientists, Engineers, and Creators of all kinds

Edited by David H Guston, Ed Finn and Jason Scott Robert

There are some books which, regardless of their age, continue to resonate with audiences, and of none is this so true as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. From its origins as a ghost story written by an intelligent yet rebellious teenage girl on the shores of Lake Geneva almost 200 years ago, the book has gone on to become a defining pillar of English literature, one which has much to say about the way we as humans imagine science and its moral, societal and technological consequences.

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Over the years Shelley’s text has become standard comparison for every scientific attempt to harness the power of nature, be it in the form genetic engineering, stem cell cloning, or even the creation of artificial intelligence. Yet despite its clear relevance to science and engineering, the study of Frankenstein has often been left solely to students of the arts and humanities.

This new publication from The MIT Press strives to change this, by directly applying Shelley’s classical text to the modern, scientific world. The original 1818 edition of Frankenstein is paired with annotations discussing the ethical aspects of scientific creativity and providing additional background information on the period in which the novel came to life including references to industrialisation, and scientific studies in alchemy and galvanism.

The comparisons to our own situation are clear: Shelley’s society was caught up in a tumultuous network of changes, experiencing for the first time the wonders of steam power and industry, and today, we find ourselves caught up in a similar situation – though travelling in very different directions – and still with many of the same concerns. The editors present the idea of a modern day Victor Frankenstein creating a form of self-replicating nanotechnology – not unlike the ideas we explored last year in our Frankenstein special edition of E&T – highlighting the continued significance of Shelley’s warning.

While the book is written as a companion to those of scientific thinking, it also drives up discussion about the importance of literary thinking within science and technology, and of incorporating art into STEM subjects. The editors encourage a scientific respect of the humanities as offering a valid means of defining and even improving the world. Indeed, the factors driving scientific imagination are not so far removed from the literary mind as one might imagine. Shelley’s work speaks of an interest in the scientific and technological discoveries occurring in the early 19th century, but was no doubt also inspired by nature, and the tumultuous rainfall the girl experienced at Lake Geneva. In much the same way her creation, Victor Frankenstein, experienced his first sparks of creativity after witnessing a tree smashed to smithereens during a thunderstorm. Both occurrences, though literary, are not so far removed from Edison’s inspiration for the study of gravity coming from an apple falling from a tree.

To give further context and encourage thought and discussion, the annotated book is accompanied by a chronology of scientific developments throughout the life of Shelley, as well as several essays by leading scholars which explore the social and ethical aspects of scientific creativity and discovery within Frankenstein. Questions emerge surrounding the responsibility behind scientific creation, the place of science fiction as an influence rather than a predictor, of the future, and the changing conceptions of human nature, and their relevance and emergence within the text – providing food for thought for STEM and humanities students alike.

Interestingly enough although the book has been edited by men, the idea for the project itself came from a woman, the colleague of Guston, Finn and Robert, Cajsa Baldini. The irony of group of middle aged men following in the footsteps of a teenage girl is not lost on the editors, and they take the time to confront the issues of gender in Frankenstein, as well as pay homage to the author, for whom writing and publishing a novel without the support of her family, and with open disdain from society, was no mean feat. In this way, the book serves not just to represent how Shelley’s work provides an opportunity to reflect on how science is framed and understood by the public, but as a commemoration of all that Shelley achieved.

This review was first published online for E&T magazine