
THE shortlist for this year’s , which celebrates the best in popular science writing, is an impressive and diverse group that ranges from evolutionary biology and probability to olfaction and history. If you are looking for a holiday reading list, you cannot go wrong with this one. Deciding on a winner for the £10,000 prize, to be announced on 15 September, will be no easy task for the judges.
There is not one book on the list of six that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy. In Your Inner Fish, Neil Shubin firmly grounds us in our evolutionary past. With contagious passion he explains that the genetic recipe that builds our bodies is nothing more than a modified version of the same one that has been passed down from generation to generation, species to species, for millions upon millions of years.
Richard Holmes’s The Age of Wonder unites Enlightenment rationality with European Romanticism. Though the two are long thought to have been in ideological conflict, Holmes recreates a stirring moment in history when scientists, poets and artists all basked in a shared glow of wonder.
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‘s entertaining and accessible guide to probability, The Drunkard’s Walk, reveals just how much of our lives is driven by little more than chance.
For the quality of writing alone, Jo Marchant’s Decoding the Heavens shines. The beauty and ease of the prose, the gripping pace of the story and the colourful rendering of characters hook you in and bring ancient civilisations to life in an adventure story that changes the way we think about antiquity and technology today. I’m also proud to note that Marchant is a former editor at New Scientist.
For pure fascination factor, I’d give my vote to Avery Gilbert’s What the Nose Knows. He explores the quest to recreate the smell of marijuana, determines whether men’s or women’s farts are smellier (sadly, women’s) and suggests that Freud suffered from hyposmia, an impaired sense of smell. Gilbert’s playful, fact-filled and often funny book is a fabulous tour through the smellscape.
However, if I had to pick one winner for the prize, it would have to be Bad Science by Ben Goldacre. First of all, it’s hilarious. I found myself laughing out loud whenever I began to read. More importantly, it proves that science can be endlessly useful and even cool, and performs an invaluable social service by teaching people how to spot nonsense dressed up as science. From homeopathy to the MMR vaccine scare, Goldacre unravels what he sees as a dangerous portrayal of science as “groundless, incomprehensible, didactic truth statements from scientists, who themselves are socially powerful, arbitrary, unelected authority figures”.
Instead, he shows that science is perfectly comprehensible if you know how to perform some simple acts of reason, and that no authority, be it a scientist or a pharmaceutical company or the press, should be taken on its word.
Whether he is obtaining the same credentials for his dead cat as those boasted by a self-proclaimed “expert”, undermining the popular view of antioxidants or pointing out the irony of “taking homeopathy to a country that has been engaged in a water war”, Goldacre’s wonderful irreverence is a much-needed antidote in this age of increasing scientific illiteracy. And unlike those books that tell you how stupid you are, this one tells you how to figure out how stupid everyone else is – a skill I can’t imagine anyone turning down.
“Unlike books that tell you how stupid you are, it tells you how to figure out how stupid everyone else is”
My only qualm is the title, though I realise it is taken from his column in London’s Guardian newspaper. The “bad science” here is usually not science at all – and that’s the point. In exposing it, Goldacre is showing us science, and science writing, at its best.
Competition
What popular science book still needs to be written? Enter our competition to win one of five full sets of the books on the Royal Society shortlist. For details and to enter, visit www.newscientist.com/article/dn17384
Penguin
Harper Press
Penguin
Decoding the Heavens: Solving the mystery of the world’s first computer
William Heinemann
Crown
Harper Perennial