Science
Scientists and thinkers focus their attention on cosmic questions, from the monumental to the infinitesimal.

Sunday, May 28, 2006

All Things Big and Small

As Marcus Chown sees it, scientists and science writers have a difficult time conveying to the masses the beauties of the twin pillars of modern physics -- quantum theory and Einstein's general theory of relativity -- because they don't completely understand the science themselves. In The Quantum Zoo: A Tourist's Guide to the Neverending Universe (Joseph Henry, $24.95), Chown has a go at making good on Einstein's promise that "the fundamental ideas of science are essentially simple and may, as a rule, be expressed in a language comprehensible to everyone."

Chown, who holds degrees in physics and astrophysics from the University of London and Cal Tech, respectively, has the science chops for the job, and he also has had success as a writer of popular science through a series of books including The Magic Furnace and The Universe Next Door .

The Quantum Zoo is divided into two parts: "Small Things," which deals with quantum theory, and "Big Things," which deals with relativity and our understanding of the universe. Toward his goal of presenting this complex science in a way that both educates and entertains, he enlists a range of noteworthy explainers, from Einstein and the physicist Richard Feynman to "Star Trek" and the comic Steven Wright. It is a largely successful endeavor, with wonderful takes on such things as the nature of atoms (if all of the empty space in them could be removed, all of humanity would fit into a space the size of a sugar cube) and relativity (which, among other things, means that a person ages more slowly on the bottom floor of a building than on the top floors). On the other hand, the book's brevity (200 pages) means cases where advances or missteps are noted but not explained, which reduces the likelihood of confusing or boring readers but occasionally leaves them hungry for a how and why behind the what.

Chown notes that sometimes, the hows and whys aren't even there to be presented: "If you find the ideas of quantum theory a little difficult, you are . . . in very good company. It is fair to say that, 80-odd years after the birth of quantum theory, physicists are still waiting for the fog to lift so that they can clearly see what it is trying to tell us about fundamental reality."

In The View From the Center of the Universe: Discovering Our Extraordinary Place in the Universe (Riverhead, $26.95), the physicist Joel R. Primack and his wife, science philosopher Nancy Ellen Abrams, aim to pick up where Chown leaves off. Primack and Abrams argue that the explosive growth in our understanding of the universe has brought us to the to the brink of a revolution in cosmology similar to the one in physics after Sir Isaac Newton or in biology after Charles Darwin. The barrier, as they see it, is that the scientists leading us in this exploration are generally unwilling to accept the idea that humanity's desire to make sense of our place in the cosmos is evidence that we are in fact at the center of it all.

"From a Darwinian point of view," they write, "it may seem inexplicable that humans should be able to decode the origin and nature of the universe, since this kind of knowledge seems to have no practical consequences and thus no survival value." So their argument, essentially, is that modern science needs higher meaning every bit as much as did ancient societies that traced human ancestry back through the forces of nature. As an example, they note that the Huichol Indians of Mexico believe themselves to be descended from Grandfather Fire -- a decidely scientific idea, given our modern understanding that everything in the universe is the result of an unbroken chain going back to the Big Bang.

Primack and Abrams argue that one of the key findings from science's exploration of all things great and small is that man is right in the middle of the scale between the largest and smallest things in the universe. Their case is well-argued, if occasionally undermined by the introduction of concepts with fringe-sounding names like Cosmic Uroboros (for the size scale that places man at the center of the universe) and Midgard (the section of that scale where mankind exists). But given their goal of breaking down barriers between the modern and traditional understandings of the universe, the occasional odd-seeming concept is to be expected.

In the end, the book's argument is as much social and political as scientific or spiritual. In advancing the idea that man is at the center of the universe, the authors are implying a responsibility for seeing ourselves as intimately connected to the universe -- and, ultimately, responsible for it.

-- Gregory Mott

The Sunset Years

In The Denial of Aging: Perpetual Youth, Eternal Life, and Other Dangerous Fantasies (Harvard Univ., $25.95), Muriel R. Gillick whacks all the major players orchestrating the Last Dance of America's senior citizens. Medicare is misguided, she argues. Nursing homes are like prisons. Assisted living facilities are too often motivated by greed. Doctors (Gillick is a physician, by the way) are too willing to extend life at any cost. Relatives often have lousy judgment about what's best for a loved one. Even those facing their own finality are too focused on themselves.

In assessing the nation's retirement and health care institutions, Gillick is not the first to see flaws that are ruinous both for the seniors receiving aid and for those of us receiving huge bills for that aid. For example, she notes that while most people want to spend their last days at home, only a quarter of people over age 65 do so. Twice as many die in hospitals, which are so focused on keeping patients alive that they haven't mastered the art of respectfully allowing those near death to leave this world.

For those who need medical care, Gillick would deliver more of it at home, via phone calls, visits from practitioners and other simple measures that have proved effective and efficient. But don't mistake Gillick for a heartless advocate of rationed care. She wants to keep old people alive and well for however long each person can thrive. But she views many efforts to protect nursing-home residents as more of a problem than a solution. By focusing on statistics and standards aimed at ensuring quality of care for these people, she contends, the government is actually prompting these institutions to ignore quality of life.

Gillick challenges Baby Boomers to reengineer nursing homes, first into true homes where elders can thrive and, when necessary, into places providing the care they need to either recover or spend their final days in comfort. More broadly, she challenges her generation to embrace the inevitability of aging and to make the most of it. That would be quite a legacy for the Baby Boomers to leave their children.

-- Tom Graham

Storm Watcher

Like the weather forecasters who warned that Hurricane Katrina possibly, then probably, then almost certainly would be the Big One, Marq de Villiers is not someone to let a gathering storm go unwatched. Bitten almost fatally by the weather bug at an early age and stung again by storms several times thereafter, de Villiers appreciates the damage caused when a billion tons of water suddenly go airborne. He also knows that weather can feel intensely personal -- to the yachtsman who didn't hear a bulletin and even to a battened-down writer marveling as a storm born in the tropics tears up the coastline outside his Canadian home.

De Villiers's new book, Windswept: The Story of Wind and Weather (Walker, $25), excels in tracking 2004's Hurricane Ivan, from its inconspicuous birth in the Sahara to its final furies weeks later. Sadly, Windswept digresses too often. Yes, it's good to learn about planned wind farms in Nova Scotia, in Massachusetts, even in West Virginia. And given the huge spike in electricity prices facing many people in the Washington area, it's intriguing to learn that wind power may not always be too expensive to produce on a large scale. But de Villiers spends too much time on such matters, as well as on the mechanics of flight and the ancient mythology of wind.

The further de Villiers strays from his own experience, the more a reader feels unmoored. He is admirably honest about relying on a number of books by other authors, but one wonders whether he has leaned on them too heavily. The result, too often, is that we seem to be reading his account of other people's work rather than an original perspective on wind and weather.

-- Tom Graham

The reviewers are editors at The Washington Post who cover science and health news.